Since 1940

The characters depicted in the following have false names due to the fact I currently am training in a Care Center facility and don't wish to get my ass reamed or failed. This is not a usual comical story, yet a touching one. Get out your tissues. Enjoy.

For three days I've been socializing with the elderly of my little town of Wyoming, cleaning messes, feeding them, and everything in between.  Today, I got to be acquainted with a particularly interesting couple- we'll call them Sue and Dale. The CNA that I was to shadow that day had that lovely couple in her care.  It was about lunch and time for a bathroom break.  For those of the audience who aren't aware, it is rare that an elderly, at any given care center, won't need assistance.  We walked Sue and Dale to their shared room- to meet their little dog of which I came to find out they'd had for six years.

Ladies first, so as the aid helped her, I conversed with Dale for a small bit until his turn. He smiles as he almost immediately starts to tell me, "You know we've been together about 75 years." I'm intrigued. "Oh yeah?" I hint to more, with a smile. "Oh yes yes." He breathes in deeply, I wait for him to continue. "You know, it was me and a buddy who were at a basketball game many years ago. We saw two of the cutest cheerleaders and snuck up on them and told them we wanted them over at our place after the game. They told us they had boyfriends that were to wait for them after the game.  So we told them to go ahead and get changed when the game was over and sneak out the window of their changing room. We'd help them down and take them to their boyfriends. So, after the games we helped them out of the window and left with them. Been together ever since." He smiled as he was finished with that portion of the story.

He saw me smiling in disbelief and amazement. "Yup," he said," my buddy and the other cheerleader were together too, but they passed away some time ago. A sort of reminiscing in his eyes and this thought. "I'm in awe. That's a very long time." I commented. What else do you say to that? "Yup. We don't fight. I still love her. We grew up here together."
"You've lived in *said city* your whole life?"
"Mmhmm."
"And her?"
"I don't really know where she's from anymore." He chuckles. So do I. "But I think she's from here too."
At this time, Sue comes out, and Dale goes in.
While passing each other, her in walker, him in wheelchair, Dale says to her, "Give me a kiss." "What?!" She instantly responds. "Don't worry," he says, "I'll give you one back." Sue smiles and surely gives him a kiss on the lips and tries to pull away. "Wait!" Dale says, "I didn't give you one back." She leans over and receives her kiss.
Sue's time for a chat. As she's sitting down, I'm wiping back tears, trying to gain composure. "So your husband tells me you've been together for quite some time." She smiles that smile. Even under her elderly skin, all of those wrinkles and delicate features- I know that smile anywhere. She loves him still before she even says the words. "We got married in 1940." She tells me. " But were with each other before that." The tears keep coming as she tells me her side of the deal, "I was a cheerleader and he liked to pick on me. He's straightened up over the years." We giggle the gossip-chuckle together. She restates his thoughts, "Yup. Been together 70-some years and still I love him. We don't really fight. We argue. But never fight." She smiles. " I think we'll be just fine as long as he keeps his act together." A shared gossip-chuckle again. "What about you?" She asks, catching me a little off guard. "What do you mean?" I ask. "Well, your smile, how did you and your guy meet?" I blush a little bit. Didn't think I was obvious. "Well. We worked at a store together. Then he needed help moving into another place, then took me on dates and we've been together ever since." I smiled my biggest, as she caught that my last line mimicked her's. "How long have you been together for?" She asked. "A year." I smiled once more. Today that she ask me is the day we've officially been a year. She mimics me in return," Oh wow!" and we laugh. "Nothing like 75 years." I say.
Dale comes out and the two exchange a glance. "Ready for dinner, sweetheart?" Dale asks. "I am, dear." She replies. The two head down the winding hallways to the dining hall.

I love that. I can't tell you how much my heart goes out to those two and other couples who have stuck with it over the years. Anyone that knows me can tell you I'm no sap and don't give into the romantic comedy chick flicks of today. You can keep your flings and heart-throbs- I don't want em.  Some day I hope to be able to say I've been with someone for even fifty years. I think it's phenomenal- some of the relationships that last to the end of their days. I think it's the most beautiful thing ever to love someone, and actually show dedication by finding something every day about them that you love. Every day being patient with them. Every day having new adventures as not to take each other for granted. I love the elderly. So tossed aside in the world of today in the American culture. So underestimated.

A College Freshman Once

 It's been a while since I've written, mainly because I've been quite busy with school I find it hard to record my adventures. So here's a little story I found digging through some things I wrote freshman year.....




One afternoon I was walking back to my dorm, when from the outside, the same idiots that have the courtesy to yell at everyone else has the nerve to yell at me, all on my lonesome, "HEY SEXY!"

How flattering.*Note Sarcasm* I take this time to act upon big uber-blonde men and go straight up to their room - wasn't hard, the first door nearest the window upstairs.
I knock.
A reply from the muscular blonde boy opening the door. "Yes?"

" You had something to say to me? " I said, eyebrow cocked and ready for this.

" No. Just kidding around," as he starts to close the door, "You're not hott. "

Oh poor me, a big blonde child doesn't think i'm bangable. Hm. Let's see if any of the other girls will think he's bangable.

I go back to my room, pull out a sharpie and some paper to tape together to make a lovely sign.

About ten minutes later, a sign was heavily taped on that door stating :

" I MIGHT BE MUSCULAR BUT I HAVE A TINY PENIS. I YELL OUT WINDOWS BUT I'M CHICKEN SHIT TO YOUR FACE. COME PLAY WITH ME. IT'S BEEN A WHILE."

Hm. Wonder who could have done such a thing....but the feeling was satisfying to see two guys walk by and start chuckling to themselves.

Lucy is Still Lucifer

Sorry it's been a while since I've written. I've been busy, things on my mind.. the list goes on. Here's something...

Lucy is Still Lucifer

The hair on the back of my neck raises
Every time I have to look at you.
Think about you.
I don't think you understand- it's not a good thing.
My heart races just thinking about you now,
Thinking about how I'll never get you out of my head.
And I don't even love you.

There are few people I don't like in this world,
Fewer I would claim to hate.
But you. You. So much hate festers
You attention seeking whore.
Slut, harlot, she-devil, good for nothing, makes me sick to my stomach-
thinking about you with him.

You and your airbrushed hair,face, nails;
You and your fake, misleading,under-mature, overrated, under-dressed, ill-advised, selfish bovine.
You and your wretched, miserable, serpent-like personality and face.
He may not see it; never will.
I always will.

I am not blinded by the classic societal wench
I am not blinded by the cutesy attitude thrown along with naked bodies
As if they've not wronged.
As if the temptation of men and the cheating of their women's hearts was not done.
As it was.

But you- you can not be released from this life you've clung on to-
The life you turned away because of your own selfish desires and
once it was gone
you wanted it.  Typical I say.
Typical of you and those around before you who set the standard.
Your typical age, gender, hormonal drive, and need to captivate the most difficult of attentions.

I wish it were difficult for you.
I might then say he loved me more than he does you.

Malachi and Copernicus Rise Again

Monday mornin- "Dude I'm dropping my math class. Wanna go to Salt Lake for a concert?" Queer asks. "Yup." I say.

As always, we go on spur of the moment, Queer and I. No trip is ever really planned. If we talk about it and try to plan it, it won't happen like most things people talk about anymore.  We were supposed to leave that night, but I had night duty in my residence hall which I skipped anyway due to sleep deprivation. Woke at about 1:30am and saw if he was still awake. He was.  Messaged my boss to approve the future night absence. Approved.  Got that Asian out of bed to see if he was up for an adventure to his home town, and off we were at approximately 3:00.

We arrived at about noon, mostly alive save the panic attacks from Queers maniac driving. That mixed in with some ginger hype no one quite understands makes for a dangerous time.  Oh what fun I say!  We drove around a bit, looking at the mansions of the snooties built on the side of the mountains, looking at their view from the streets we drove. 

Lucky. Unnecessarily lucky.

Checked out the town a bit, located the venue, and visited the Asian's brother. We'll call him Blondie. (Just the streak in his hair folks... struck me as odd.) Watched his friend play Portal until we decided to hit up the movies.... I'm glad it was only a buck each.  Thirty Minutes or Less was NOT worth it, even if you are a huge Jesse Eisenberg fan.

After that, a bit more time to kill.  More mansions, streets, sun and wind... and hunger.  Damn Asian. You have to feed that thing hourly. Like a garbage disposal! Just... EVERYTHING in it's path. Beware. So we om nom nom'ed and went to the venue.  Lost driving around the same block three times some how, but we finally found it again.  "HE JUST HANDED THAT MAN COCAINE!"

Seriously! The guys, acting all big city suave, told me to hush hush about it, saying it's normal.
Look you two, none of us are from the small town- remember that.  But how desensitized are you when a man hands over a baggie of powder in broad daylight, and you find no amusement? Tisk tisk hehe. Seriously though. On the street. A busy street. Perhaps these small town po po should move to a bigger city where there's real trouble and stop giving me damn warnings for loitering. WHILE WALKING. Another story, another day.

Queer was stoked- had been waiting since he graduated to see them- The Sounds.  The lead singer, a lovely Swedish lady, is what catches his fancy. Ironic, I know.  Immediately after walking in, the piss hits us all- after coming out, queer states eagerly he'd just shaken hands with someone who might not have washed his hands and took a piss right before hand.  "I know he's on something. I made a friend."  I chuckled a little, looking over at Asian to see him nodding matter-of-factly.  The bass was booming in the whole place. I hate concerts like that only because it makes me jealous and think my awesome bass in my car is nothing comparable.  MMmmm. Bass. 

The first group was dank- Kids at the Bar.  Just a couple of DJs rockin it out, getting our ears ready.  Then The Limousines, a band I took a particular liking to and was so inclined as to buying a cd.  Then the moment Queer waited for so long.  The moment he'd shat himself about when he found out we were to go.  The Sounds stepped out all glorious in the fog machine.  Everyone jumped and screamed, and to me, for a moment, it was like there was no one else in the room.  Just me.  Just bass and loud music. He took a million pictures.  "I have to get closer." He said, looking at me with puppy concern.  "Get up there." I smiled, not wanting to leave Asian to get trampled, hating crowds enough as it was.  He just danced there excitedly, having little blonde renegades grind up on him. He didn't care, this was The Sounds. THE SOUNDS. From Sweden!

I yell to Asian "I'm taking him closer!" He nods, I grab Queers hand, and bolt my damndest towards the front. Elbows flying, everyone going off balance- packed in there tighter than a whore's tits on Black Friday.  No idea what that means. Just made it up. Go with it.  Anywho, I get nasty looks but like I care- I'll never see them again.  I have to get him closer. We did NOT drive all the way to Salt Lake for some shitty pictures!! We were three persons away from the stage, the singer flashing us in all her glory.  My shoving momentum had people off balance and forced to shove back and back and forth and back and forth until it got violent- oh shit guy. I started a mosh pit.  Crazy faux-hawkin ging coming from a bum-middle-of-no-where college started a mega mosh in the midst of all these 'hipsters' and 'scene' kids.  WIN.

After three or four songs we had to get out of there. I'm not even sure it was that many songs, time flew and slowed down and the motion of the mosh never stopped all the while. We needed hydration. The little Asian had come into the mob and was getting thrown left and right. Had we three not been linked so well, he might have vanished.  We agreed to make a break for it out of there, straight back.  It was odd, you'd think people would willingly let you through going OUT to let them further IN.  Ohhhh no, not these crazies.  One blonde idiot tried shoving me back in after I gave her among a many other the rugby shoulder.

Wrong move dinky.  BAM. Elbow to the face.  I don't think she fell completely, but back a bit into guys' arms with glares.  I b-lined it out of there. We all looked back at the stage.  The sound enveloping us like sprinkles in cool whip.  Like cheesecake in strawberry sauce.  Like Potatoes in mayo.  Damn I'm hungry... can't find a good one that fits...

Enveloped.

That was when I bought the cd and got to take pictures with the other two performing groups.  We had a deadline to meet in order to get back for work and school and things.  Cj didn't get to meet his lady,  but he was happy nonetheless.  We had a quick bite on our way out and stopped by once more at Blondie's then bounced.  Queer got us out of city limits, and I drove quite a ways, going no less than 90 wanting to get back as quick as possible to catch some ZZZs before work.  We ended up shaving two hours off of our time for the trip down there. 

So much awesome packed into a 24 hour period.  Conclusion? The longer you talk about it, the less likely you are to DO it.  Oh, and never give an Asian a snack. Always, ALWAYS full meals.  This way you save yourself a million snacks. <3

Follow-up on Your Roosters

This Monday (after the last Friday- the Epic Blowout) I saw the Ring Leader again.

He was in the lunch line right behind me.  I see his smug smile from the corner of my eye.  "How's the dick sucking going?" I ask, smiling ear to ear.  "Better now that you're here." He smiles back.  I just chuckle and walk away to sit with my friends.

A couple of days later I see him again in the lunch room.  I'm grabbing soup from the lunchroom to bring upstairs to where I work. He was in the line and as I walk by him, I give him a pat and squeeze on the shoulder, "What's up buddy?" And walk away to my soup.  Shortly he walks over to me and asks, "Am I really your buddy?" "Ha, yeah man." He walks away, "Sweet." 

So we're on speaking terms?  Decent acquaintances?  No idea, but it's so funny how life works with a smile.

Got a Big Schlong? Mine's Bigger.

WARNING: Explicit materials for those under appropriate age of harsh words or wrestlers.  Read with caution and brain cells.

Today was the day, my friends.  Well, remember the gaggle of ass-hats that wouldn't leave me be about my faux hawk?  This ging stepped up to the plate. She won.  

Everything was wonderful about today- save the fact I stilll can't find my wallet.  I woke up happy, showered, threw up the do into it's wonderful ginger wave, slapped on my favourite heels, had coffee- just an all around awesome day.  There was no way anyone or anything could ruin this day.  Not even a gaggle of pea-brained wrestlers. 

I was to have dinner with my queer and everything was ordinary- get some food, get some drank, let's scarf this and bounce.  As I was pouring myself some raspberry tea from the fountain, I heard it- the rooster call.  I look back and there they are, all sitting at the long table exchanging girly giggles and smirks as if I didn't know where it came from.  I look to Queer, "This is the day. One more time and no more."  I smiled. I felt confident. These boys didn't have any idea who they were fooling with.  I had waited for this moment a long time.  I walked confidently towards some fellow RAs that were already seated at a table.  "This time you have backup." Queer reassured me. 

"Ca-caww!" I smiled that Red Menace smile my mother had warned everyone about. Show time.

I whip around to face all of them and slam my food and things at the end of their table.  " Okay, which one of you is doing the damn rooster call?!" My voice, loud, but not yet booming.  "Uhh," one of the ass-hats started, "I think it was someone over there..." he trailed off, gesturing toward the soda machine.  Before he could finish I cut him off and was louder than before.  " No you asshole, I think it was you! all of you! Because you do it every time I wear my hair up and I'm sick of it!! You want a cock then you should go suck one!!"  The bastard closest to me (the Ring Leader, as I refer him as) had the audacity to look me in the eye and say, "Present it."

Wrong move.

" YOU WANT ME TO WHIP OUT MY COCK RIGHT HERE IN FRONT OF EVERYBODY?!?"
A very soft "oooohh" from the cafeteria.  "Well, I'm out of here!" Said the Ring Leader.  Most of the gaggle left after that. You should have seen their faces.  I gracefully picked up my food, relocated it to the table I was headed, and sat down." The boys around the table I sat at now looked at me dumbfounded.  "Wow Thibby, what was that about?" Dugg asked me.  "I've been wanting to do that for a while now," I said with a smile as tears welled up in my eyes," and now you'll have to excuse me."  I escaped to a side room off the cafeteria to gather myself until the adrenaline cooled.  As I was about to come back to the dinner table, Queer greeted me at the doorway with a hug. "That was awesome, sweetie."  I walked back and sat down to the boys talking, "They totally deserved it." Said Half-ton ( A name given to him by our rugby team.)  "You wanna suck my cock?" We giggled and mocked together.  "Man, when a redhead is mad you know something's going down," said Half-ton. "Yeah, she'll whip out her cock!" said Dugg.  Not even five minutes later, our other friend... we'll call him Simba (because you all know by now I don't ever use real names)- came and sat down. " So I hear there's a story you need to tell me."  I look around the table and everyone is wide-eyed. Talk about a shot heard around the world! "Wow, that happened not even five minutes ago!" said Dugg.  I told him what happened and he smiled with a, "Good for you."  "Who'd you hear it from?" I asked.  "Everyone." Simba said.

Just a couple other friends came up saying that it was awesome, and one guy even said he'd dedicate his status to me.  Haha thanks Cowboy....

"You know big dicks like that don't like being put in their place. It might get worse." Queer warned.  "I know," I smiled, "and this time I'm more than ready for it."

Rugby is for Real Men

Red Baron.  This is the name given to me from the college rugby team I'm on.  I played my first game this past weekend and here's what I have to say about it.

In high school I always wanted to play football but never had the chance. "You're a girl." "You're not tough enough." "I won't allow it." Even when me and a few other brutal gals in the school tried to make a 'Powder Puff' football team, the principal said no because an incident three years prior- uniforms were not provided and the ladies wore baller shorts and one had them pulled off of her to reveal a thong underneath for all faculty and parents to see.

Those comments came from adults but the students in my gym classes had other things to say about me. "THIS IS NOT FOOTBALL!" Said a girl once while playing ultimate frizbee as I nailed her ass to the ground. Another time whilst playing soccer, I knocked the wind out of a gal just by bumping into her. And another accidentally got a boot to the head.... while he was standing. Did I mention he was 6'1 at the time?  Of course my favourite for last, playing capture the flag as a freshman with my youth group and running my youth pastor to the ground to capture the flag he possessed. He was not a small guy. I'm not a total ass by any means of the word, just stronger than what people would give me credit for with all of this aggression and nothing to take it out on.  I just wanted something- anything to show not all gals are defenseless. Not all gals are wimps and need protecting. I also needed something to teach me how to channel the force more specifically.

That brings me to my third year of college- a rugby team. Now, I wasn't stoked at first, seeing as how what I'd heard and witnessed of other teams, all they did was drink in their spare time and they were all a bunch of asshats that had no other friends but themselves because no one wanted to tolerate their hard-headedness.  Then I heard about who was going to be on the team and though, hey, maybe this will be different.... and it is.  I don't know how, but said college I attend has managed to ring in the sweetest most genuine rugby players I've ever met.  I watched their first game up in Montana- a defeat, but they learned a lot considering only a select few had even played before. As I watched I was more fascinated by the second, no time outs, no breaks every time someone hit the ground, pretty much a free for all with a little rules on tackling and such, but it was magic. 

A women's team? Oh yes. That was the first thing that came to mind. If there was that many in high school that had wanted to play footballs, who's to say there wouldn't be as many women here that would want to play a sport we all would be fairly new to?  I asked the captain how he got it started.  He said they weren't even technically a team, just a club.  The school didn't fund them yet, or arrange games for them to be at.   Why the hell not? I wondered.  When I returned to college, I talked to a coworker about a women's team. She was game, noting that she had played rugby a bit in Germany.  We immediately started recruiting.  I think the most we ever got to show was eight or nine... but as the week went on, there were a set four or five.  Not enough to make a team by any means but the few of us still practiced with the guys. 

Tuesday hit and practice was over, "So who is wanting to play for the game this weekend?"  I saw guys all over raising their hands, and Little Tank (her designated rugby name) and I looked around questioningly, wondering if we should raise our hands or if we were even included.  The Vice President looks back at me, "Red Baron, you coming?" "I'd like to go." I say in hopes. "Well alright then, go." A fellow player gives me a high five.  Little Tank raised her hand to go too. 

Friday at five, we met at the back of the field we normally met at.  Our faculty member (a lady friend of one of the players) had gotten a 12-seater from the college and a little funding for gas and a couple hotel rooms.  What a sweatheart. For the 20-somes of us, we split into the van and vehicles and were on our way. Got to our rooms, packed in there as we were, and woke the next morning to get to the field at seven forty five or so.  A bit early we learned... games didn't start until ten. We were misinformed. Nevertheless, started throwing, did warmups, just what we'd do in practice but nothing hardcore before a game. 

They even let me rock the faux hawk.  Amen.

The first game, I was a flagger... or whatever the hell they call it. All I know is that it meant I had to stay parallel with the ball and if it went out of bounds I'd signal which team got it.  That even meant going into enemy territory to be harassed by the jackasses calling my team fags and cheaters and harassing me about the assigned job I had to do.  "I'd appreciate it if you'd stop talking shit on my team, I'm standing right here." A little snickering, but they backed off.  We lost. But not as badly as the first weekend, so we weren't as down as you'd expect.

Then as another game was happening and we were waiting for our second game, the ref from our game took us aside and gave us some pointers.  We watched the rest of the game, then started getting ready for the final game.  "Whoever did not play last game is starting for this one." Ohhhhh lawrd.  I looked at Little Tank and shook my head.  This was it. Ohh boy. I tried not to get nervous. I'm Thibs, I'm unshakable.  I told myself.  Those that know me know that I tell myself this when I'm nervous.  Snakebites out, ring off, socks on, breathe.  "You feel comfortable being the hooker?" says the President.  "As long as I know what it is." They explain I'm to hook the ball with my feet whilst the team clusterfucks with me for a battle royale. (My interpretation hehe) "Okay." We practice the formation a bit.  It was showtime.  I listened to orders and followed that damn ball wherever it went. Lots of running. Tackling. Even got shouldered to the boob by what appeared to be an Asian/ Filipino mix. It was epic. 

We lost that game too, and if I remember correctly by a smaller dent that the previous game. I wasn't too depressed about it at all. I played damn RUGBY!  The team was super supportive of each other, giving the 'good game' hand slaps and 'you did a good job' gestures.  We had a shit ton of pizza afterwards and cake from one of the guy's anniversaries. His gal was there to bandage the players up.  Adorable. 

This has been quite the post, one of my longest but if you read all the way through thanks. It's been a while but I'll try to stay on it. This is a shout out to my fellow team members for making this sport what I wanted it to be.  Just an odd cluster of people getting together to represent something though that something might be different for everyone.

Morning Person?

I'm never offended to be awaken early, let alone at all. But there are particular moods in which I am terribly tired and if you wake me I can react in one of two ways- so violent you better watch out, (my queer learned this one the hard way) or you will get the most random sayings possible ( in which my asian learned this the humorous way)

I love telling my stories to a crowd and at said college, there is an Open Mic Night that used to happen every Monday or Tuesday night... or something like that.... anywho, at the hall I was in last year, my Queer lived right down the hall and I knew all the ladies in my wing so I had no problem leaving my door unlocked. I passed out hard core one afternoon, skipping dinner and all. Didn't even have time to take off my spike stilettos. Queer comes in to wake me for dinner and I was quite snappy, none of which I remember. He again came some time later trying to wake me for Open Mic Night, knowing how fun it was for me.
A bit later I wake and I see that I am late for Open Mic. I haul ass to the student building it was to take place in. After I get up and tell whatever story was on the mind that night, I go to sit by Queer. He did not look pleased. "Why didn't you wake me for this?" I asked. 
He looked at me like I'd just shat my pants and tried to smear it on the wall. "I DID!"
I looked at him confused. He proceeded to tell me that when he entered my room, first he shook me and I mumbled. Then a little more aggressively and I began shouting profanities at him about how tired I was and how much I was going to stab him with my heel and how much of an ass he was for waking me. The last thing he did was take a picture of my limp body on the bed and splash me with water.

Another time I was awaken by the Asian. You must understand, the semester it happened was a semester of little to no sleep, seeing as how I had schooling all day, theatre by evening, and worked graveyards 10pm-7am.  I usually crashed at his place because he lived in the town I worked and I did not. He tried waking me one afternoon for a class or something of the sort. He tells it that he gently shook me and I rolled over, not opening my eyes, only to whisper, "Asians everywhere....." and rolled over and went back to sleep.
He decided it was cute enough to let me sleep.  I'm guessing it was due to the fact we'd done nothing but watch Japanese movies for days.... other than that, I've no explanation for the comment save the dreams that come with the movies.

Of course, the most recent tale that brings me to why I even wrote about my odd sleeping habits- Again, the Asian and I had passed out.  I guess I was the one that woke this time and tried to wake him up. It's still funny to me because I remember only blips. He says I kissed him and said,
"I love you, even if you hate the fries."
"What?"
"Oh shit! Why am I thinking about work?"
After that last statement, he says I burst out laughing, in the fashion that I do, and laughed myself to sleep only to wake up less than a couple hours later.

Anyone else have odd sleepings and/or wakenings?  Tell me in the comment section!

Take a Lesson

You know what I have genuinely never understood? Those who aren't accepting. Those who genuinely think that because someone that doesn't dress like them, look like them, are interested in the same things are them, and think like them are just other worthless individuals. Those of you reading are probably more open and I'm preaching to a choir. Those who aren't reading probably read the first line, scoffed, and went on with their lives. Here's just a day in what I get havoc for ....

I'm currently an R.A. for a said college in Wyoming. I don't mind sticking up for others and putting others in their place, but this past week when shit is tossed to me, so to speak, I have felt I couldn't use my techniques to make the asses look like idiots because I'm supposed to be some sort of 'better example' to other students.
 I recently have whacked my hair from past shoulder length to a faux hawk.  The longest part just a little past my ears.  Of course the lesbian jokes started and I've always gotten those so I laughed along.

The particular incidences comes from a group of individuals who tend to dress.. oh, for easy visualization's sake, we'll say hickish but without the cowboy hats and their fathers' dirty baseball caps instead. Get the picture? Okay-

Ever since my hawk's first appearance, almost every day in the cafeteria I'd hear it- the rooster call. At first I brushed it off. Not my style of doing things, but as an 'example' or whatever I tried to not let it bother me.  Then again. And again. I started glaring back, hoping they would back down.  Today there were fire drills in all five resident halls of our campus. I found out where the particular group of boys lived.  As I passed they proceeded to rooster call. I glare back. "Ever heard of a flock of seagulls?!" Wow. How original asshat. I felt I couldn't do anything. All of their fellow peers there and all I was dreaming of was how much I wish I wasn't a faculty member at that particular time. It would be so worth it. I turned my back on it. After all halls were cleared, I walked back to my room. At first it was just deep breaths- by the time I hit my door it started- liquid anger. Tears streaming. I couldn't help it. Never in my life had I not stuck up for myself or said anything and I felt like a complete failure.

I called up my boss and demanded we talk immediately. I went to his apartment building and explained to him my predicament. He looked at me and shook his head. "Yes you can." I lit up, curious for further. "As long as there is no violence involved you sure can. You are expected to stand up for yourself."  I was relieved.  My boss had just given me the OKAY to open up a can of whoop-ass with words on some sheltered male trollops who deserve it. They have no idea what's in for them.

I won't approach for no reason. I'll wait. For it to happen again. Because I know it will. I hope it's in the cafeteria. I hope their peers are around. I hope they feel ashamed. I hope they dare try it again or on someone else. I will be there. I will end this. This is not a revenge statement. This is a promise. I promise to be true to myself and allow others to have their own growth as well. No exceptions.  Join me if you will- you see this happening? Say something, if not directly then to someone who isn't afraid. You are doing this? I hope you read this and take it to heart and stop your madness. It even gets to the best of us eventually.

Best wishes to everyone.

Billings doesn't know what to do

Another adventure of Queer and I. We realize how ridiculous we are and we also realize we like it.

Just a Sunday afternoon with nothing in particular planned and a head full of ideas. Queer suggests we go to Billings- the nearest town in Montana, as we live in Wyoming for college if you recall. I was thinking of not going, trying to save some money as a poor college student and what not. Quickly I realized I had nothing else better to do. Why not.

Off we went, singing along to the foreign tunes of which the translations we didn't know, screaming at other cars that passed, and him faking to drive off the road and end my life. There was a super sale in Borders that we knew about- the main goal of the day. We walked in and a worker told us, " This is the last day of the sale, everything is a dollar or less." We exchanged looks and didn't utter a word.We were off on our search for epic books and music. I had eleven dollars worth of both and he had about eighteen dollars worth. Music and books we'd never heard of- just summaries and cover artwork we found interesting. We looked at our receipts to see how much we saved- mine came to $190 or so, and his came to a whopping $299 of savings on books and music. We were satisfied with our findings.  Off to the mall. We were British where ever we went, getting glances and such.

I think I mortified a teen in WetSeal, seeing she was wearing ridiculously short shorts SO short her bright pink pockets were awkwardly longer and poking out of the bottom of her shorts. In my British snootiness, I scoffed at her, "Oh dear, your pockets are longer than your shorts. What is the point of that?" She looks at me confused. "Oh is it weird? Have you never seen that before?" I chuckle, "You can see your bright pink pockets. A little too short for my taste." I turn to the front of the line of which I was about to make my purchases. Queer shakes his head and gives me a glance. "Such an interesting place, America?" He says. To which we begin to talk about how inane American boys especially are in their rudeness. It was epic how quickly she got out of line to go back to shopping until we got out of the store.

I had to giggle. Not because I'm a rude being but because she didn't know what to say or how to argue.

Then we trolled the peoples of JCPenny's, Hot Topic, and Aeropostale. In one of the stores we glanced over, a worker at one of the more feminine places asks me so sweetly, "Are you from London?" "Birmingham." I reply with a smile. She gets a quizzical look, "I have no idea where that is." "Haha very close," I said. "That is so cool!" She exclaims then tells me about the deals in the store.

After who knows how many hours of trolling the innocent people of Montana, we are rather famished. It took us about forty-five minutes of looking for a cheap DINNER chinese buffet, but gave up and settled with Denny's.... The waiter, the people around us.... no one had any idea what was going on. We got jacked up on cup of coffee upon cup of coffee and were hysterical by the time it was time to go home. We were busting a gut from the racial slurs we were dropping - innocent ones, I give you my word on that one- to the baby in the diaper thing that was spidering the windows of the establishment. People and their kids these days.... Also another incident I'm not going to talk about. Either way, we were cutting up left and right, crying so hard until we left.

Oh waiter, you know that syrup cup that you're probably wondering if you even gave to me in the first place? I have it.

Too much laughter for a night I tell ya. Well if there is such a thing anywhozers. Back into Bjorn we ride, off into the evening sky, blaring our music, our ears getting boners just listening to music so pleasing we could probably have died happy at that moment. I'm actually quite worn from the day and would just like to leave the story with this- laugh often and cry from laughter as much as possible. Warning: will need much stupidity.

Thugs, Beads, and Toaster Struddles

This story is about my 13th birthday party. I assure you the title will make sense once you've read it through. My family and I had just moved into this two story house with a basement and had no furniture. Eleven girls were invited over to sleep in our big empty living room floor. Enjoy.

I'd never had a birthday party that I actually remembered before this one. Sure, my mum tells me I had a ton of parties when I was younger, but who remembers those? Memories wasted on the younger I tell ya! Anywhozers, My mum was well prepared- so much little breakfast items it was improbable we'd starve in the morning, she had six or eight pizzas ordered, six large boxes of soda, and a delightful cake. White. Not chocolate. Delicious.

To start out the night, we waited until everyone was there, then we feasted. I think we polished off all the pizza but it was too long ago to remember. Nothing speaks to a crowd of the rowdy like freakin pizza.  After pizza came cake, yadda yadda, fun times. *FAST FORWARD*

My day of celebrated birth is in January, and in the podunk towns of the north, that means snow. Lots of it. So we tried to entertain ourselves in the house as much as possible until we couldn't stand but to go outside anymore. We did dumb things. Fun things. Retarded things. Really, we stacked ourselves into pyramids, made our names on the floor out of our bodies, took pictures of all the shenanigans... it was weird. So much fun.  After a while we moved out to the back room and started to consume all the soda in the house. That's a lot of soda just for twelve girls. We did the "would you rather" games, "truth or dare" games, and the oh so famous "I've never" games. Soda was running low and we were getting cabin fever. Outside we go.

First place of destination- (for the protection of name's sake as I do in every story of mine) Patrick Lampho's house. Ohhhh Patrick. Imagine if you will- about ten'o'clock at night and twelve girls show up at your doorstep because the birthday girl wants to see you. Silly crushes silly crushes. Brown hair, blue eyes... not your classic blue, this crazy electric blue, and a smile that would kill any girl. I was chatting.... not really. More like blushing and begging the gals to shut their coon calls so I could compose myself. A few minutes of that, then the gals were getting antsy. We made a motion to walk back to my house then there were two old guys walking by. To us, the immediate assumption of  'Thug' status considering their clothing and their age. Probably high school guys at the time, but to us they looked years older than what they really were.  The two boldest of the group, (at this time, it was not me if you can imagine) started yelling at them to screw off and started flipping them the bird. This is the part of the party where we run.

Leaving Patrick at the corner of his block, all girls running about four blocks back to my place- thugs following. Two girls hysterically crying in fear. Hehe. Funny. We get back to my place and shut the curtains to the big picture windows- thugs still outside. They proceed to throw snowballs at my huge window. Uh oh. The mother is alerted. "What is going on?" Uhm... nothing. Going upstairs.

We go up to my room, peering down at the guys. They run away. We chilled in my room for a while until someone started looking through my book stash- then found my book of scary stories. Lights out, all but a flashlight. The stories went on until one by one went downstairs into the living room again, bored of stories. We laid out our sleeping bags and pillows to get ready for bed but we were so jacked up on soda and cake there was no way we were going to bed so early..... well, at one in the mornin anyway. We told our own stories about home, families, other birthday parties, and whatever else came to mind.  At one point we got too loud and my mum came into the living room, "Girls please, it's three in the morning, let's simmer down." 

Didn't even realize it was so late. We were up for about another hour, only three of us up the whole night, and by ten, everyone was waken again to eat breakfast.  That was perhaps one of the funnest breakfasts I've ever had. Toaster strudels, waffles, french toast sticks, everything that came in a box. Not my mum's style, but everyone had something they liked best. The parents were to start picking up at noon. Until then, I needed a way to entertain the ladies. Being a southerner, you can bet your ass I had been to Mardi Gras and luckily still had all my bead necklaces from the parades. I did drawings for them- for dice ones, fish ones, sparkly ones, and the traditional round purple, gold, and green. Everyone left with a little something since I didn't have any goodie bags to leave them with.

It was down to the last gal and I, and I walked her home since she lived down the alley from me. We talked about the previous night and giggled about everyone's little secrets. Seriously one of the most memorable birthdays I've ever had.  When the pictures got developed I showed everyone- the greatest and most diverse group of gals ever to hit that small town of havoc.

Riding Horses

Yesterday was the first time ever I rode a horse. End of intro.

The past two weeks have been super busy due to Resident Assistant training and I finally had a day off save the hours I had to work front desk.  After those hours the gal I'd been working with, "Cinth", a German that came to Woming of all places, had asked me if I wanted to go riding with her. I was quite nervous- seeing as how I already had issues riding in cars and the thought of riding something with a mind of its own was no comfort. Nonetheless I agreed to go with her. Just one of those things that I thought to myself that I'd regret not going if I didn't go.

We arrived at her host family's ranch and I saw tens of horses. Colts, Mustangs, 'Sluts' as Cinth called them, and other kinds of horses and magicalness. First we fed them- this I had no problem with.  Once upon a time in middle school I always went to another friend's ranch and we fed cows. Horses, cows, big animals that eat hay. Easy enough.

Then it started to become real- we were getting the horses. Cinth got mine for me first- "Her name is Pearl," as she handed me the rope to lead the horse out to the post to get her saddle on.  She was a beautiful silverish brown horse.  

Now at this moment, I was calm. I had to be. I've watched too many of those damn discovery shows where they tell you that animals freak the fuck out because they can feel your tension through the leash/rope/harness or what have you and it makes them tense too. So, due to paranoia, I was as loose as I could possibly be. Pearl was a good horse either way. She was very still and patient when I brushed her and stood relatively still when Cinth put the saddle on her. Then she put the saddle on her horse, Sal. He was a lighter colour than Pearl was.  We walked a little ways down a path, then two clicks to get them at a trot, then Cinth looks over at me, "Want to get them to gallop?" Here we go, I thought. This is where the horror comes into play and I fall off the horse at high speeds. "Sure." Two kiss noises and we were off. I was very calm as I clung to the saddle and reigns. This was unlike anything I'd ever done. I mean. Really. Think about it. Even you that have ridden horses and dolphins all your life- you're on an animal. As yourself, another living, breathing creature. It takes a lot of trust between human and beast. We came to a halt after a bit, Cinth giving me lessons on how to circle a horse and speed up and stop and other directions.

"I'm impressed. You sure this is your first time?" She asked me.  This made me smile. "Yeah, never ridden in my life." We rode back to the ranch, out in some pasture and saw other wild horses.  "Next time, we'll go to the creek. Pearl loves to play in the creek." She was also pointing out to me some rocks and hills and stuff that the horses can go up. "Another time when we have more time." She said.  Sounded great to me.

On our way home she started talking about getting to train horses and breaking them and even suggested I could break my own horse one day.  I can't believe I'd never considered any of this before. Hell, I grew up around enough of it but I suppose was always turned off by the idea because I considered it hickish. It took a crazy German to invite me to see how fun it was haha. I even started talking about buying my own boots. (That day for riding, I had converse. OH yeah. I'm that kid.)

Conclusion? You already know it. Get out there and do something you've never done. Never gone bowling and Aunty Freakshow invites you? GO! Never been bungee jumping because you're too afraid to smack the ground and best friend Chomper invites you? You'd better go. Live life. Don't fear it.

In Cali We Rise

One of my favourite memories and my best friend Queer, as we shall call him, is when we took a two week roadtrip to start in Wyoming, go to Salt Lake, Vegas, Los Angeles, up all the coast of Cali, Portland, Seattle, then Missoula, Montana, and back to our little college in Wyoming. This is just one of the many stories we got through this experience.

We were finally in Portland after all of our trip- eating nothing but McD's salads- seeing as how I'm pescetarian and we were poor kids. Mostly me. My Queer paid for this trip and the next one is on me.  At any rate, we were finally in Portland, land of all that is green and concrete in between. I just remember the two of us being stoked beyond all belief- screaming at the top of our lungs at any car that drove past, sharing our excitement. Eyes wide, and loving the feeling of being in a big city once again.

We followed a car with the license plate of FAP until we passed it. Then we started screaming about how pretty the town was. "SO PREEETEEEEEEE" screamed Queer. We were so stoked. We passed the Shanghai Tunnels however. Saddest day ever! But there were lots of other things in the trip that made the sadness disappear quickly. Screaming "YEON" at cars was super fun especially when the people in other vehicles look petrified.

We crossed the bridge into Vancouver and saw more of the pretty green that covered older houses and lovely little parks. The whole experience was to die for- just two college kids looking for adventure in the most awesome places.  We took pictures and even videos of our screeching excitement.

Two weeks sleeping in a car with only two showers the whole trip and a couple salads a day. Just goes to show you can have fun anywhere as long as you allow yourself to have it. Doesn't have to be fancy, doesn't have to be expensive. Just as long as your inner child comes out and you bring someone along to play along with your silly games.

Pascagoula, Mississippi

I love my mema AKA grandmother for all you non-southerners. This story I'm about to get into is probably one of the craziest and my personal favourite.

Hurricane Katrina hit the one year I and my two brothers were all in the same school- My younger, a freshman, I, a sophomore, and my older brother a senior.  Just a couple days before school started for that year, we come home to a message on the answering machine from Uncle Cleve. (He's not really our uncle, it's just what we call him. Like Uncle Matt. And Pete. And Sister Donna. Everyone is just related but not really. Bueno.)  Anywhozers, the message says "Hey *mother's name* it's Cleve, your mother called me and told me to tell you that the water has gotten up to her ankles but she's still staying in the house. She doesn't think it will get much worse." Us kids laugh, my mother in panic. As kids, she is indestructible. That woman is WIN. To my mum, she looks at it realistically- the water is literally only an acre behind our Mema's house and has NEVER gotten to her house. When it's ankle deep, the water is getting pretty serious.

My mum instantly tries to call Mema. Nothing- as expected. I'll have you know that woman doesn't go to school -(my mum is a teacher at the high school we ALL go to- big happy family, eh?) -but doesn't go to school the first four days of school because she watched the television sleeplessly waiting for Mema to, oh you know, pop up on the tv screen floating across in the water. Like a crazy person. She cried, was melodramatic about the whole thing, and people were bringing over plates of food so my mum wouldn't have to cook. What really ticked my brothers off was when the school councilor brought us in one by one asking us all how we were doing. That day after school was fun. My older bro, "What the hell! Seriously, it's annoying. Not everyone is dramatic about their million year old mother dying." Then the younger one, "She asked if I needed time off for school. Mom wouldn't go for that anyway so I don't even know why she asked."
Really it was rather comical. It was a bit odd- asking if I was okay. Asking if I wanted to talk about it or cry it out. Well. She's still indestructible in my eyes, and clearly lived otherwise I might be telling this in a different manner.... but probably not.

But on that fourth day of school I'll never forget coming home... "You watch the television and I'm fixin' to run to the grocery store. Do NOT change it from the news channel!" And with the sobbing and blubbering, blah blah go get some food.  I of course change the channel to some good after school cartoons... yes as a sophomore. Because I'm cool like that. Anywho, I shit you not, ten minutes after mum leaves, I get a phone call- it's her. The infamous Mema. "Hey baby, it's your mema."
"Oh hey Mema, you doing okay?"  You know. Real casual like.
"Yes, is your mother there?"
"She actually just went to the store. She's gonna crap her pants when she finds out she's missed a call from you."
"Well then I'll just talk to you until she gets back."
Just another ten minutes or so- the grocery is just down the street from us. Mum comes rolling up, starts bringing in groceries, I open the door, "Hey, Mema is on the phone."
She drops everything in her hands and starts screaming. If you know my mum, you know that you do NOT want to be in earshot of this shenanigans. "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? WHY DID YOU STAY YOU STUPID WOMAN?! I'VE BEEN WORRIED SICK ABOUT YOU!!"
All that jazz. So, now that you've heard it from our side, I'll tell you what happened to Mema and how she survived Hurricane Katrina.

The water was up to her ankles- then her knees. Old lady gotta pee, so she was on a mission, from the living room to down the hall to the pisser, the water was pouring in from her bedroom- her big ass iron bedframe was lifted by the water and crashed into a wall to break it open. So she was heading back toward the living room to get her purse- yes her purse. Hurricane floods or not, she needs her old lady things! Then goes to the freezer to get a big sack of seafood- it was for us in the northern state. She would have felt bad had she not gone back for it to send to us via UPS. Crazy lady.

She cuts a hole in the side screen door and swims out into the water. An almost eighty year old woman. Swimming. In the gulf of Mexico. In a hurricane. I'm sorry, but I believe any awesome grandmother stories you have out there have been trumped. The neighbors on the houseboat saw her and her large seasack floating in the waters. They took a row boat over, got her, put her on the houseboat, and I'll have you know that all they ate for three days was the seafood she carried and the beer on the boat. That's intuition.

The waters cleared and my crazy cousin Juju (this is a real cousin) did everything she could to find Mema and get her to a damn phone to contact us with. There you have it. That's the epic story of mema.

Mema and Her Shenanigans

Mema is my grandma. MEE MAH is how you pronounce it. She's the coolest old lady you've ever met- ask anyone. She instantaneously becomes anyone's grandma within five minutes.

Ever since I was younger, I always thought Mema to be invincible- all of us grand-kids did. Seriously- One time, Mema was mowing the lawn, as she always did weekly, her and her crotchety old self. The mower, probably as old as she is, decided not to work one day. What does Mema do? Kicks the damn thing to start it. Of course, it starts and she chops off her big toe. You'd think, man, she probably went to the doctor asap! Or for you pessimists, you think she's bled to death. Wrong and wrong. She sets her dissembled toe aside, mows the rest of the lawn, hobbles to the back door, THEN calls for help. That's my Mema.

This is the woman who would scream at you and tell you to go to the corner because you laughed too loud during M*A*S*H*. You do NOT interrupt her reruns of M*A*S*H*. We were all so rebellious of course. Maker her mad, get sent to a corner, rebel, then watch her 'cry'. Oh yes, she would put on quite the show. We were rotten and laughed at her crying anyway. So she'd stop and start screaming again. Ha good times.

Mema is the craziest upon crazy. She was raised a Catholic, and a good Catholic woman she shall be- that except when it comes to Goofy or current boyfriends. Yes, my grandmother has a love affair with that long-eared, big nosed best friend of Mickey. One time she took us to Disneyland and bought herself a foot and a half Goofy. She couldn't take him on the plane because of too much she was taking already. She turns to me, "You take good care of my man, you hear?" She says with a wink. "You kiss him goodnight for me, and tuck him in real nice in bed. I'll be back for him." She smiles that dirty Mema smile and boards.

Then there was the time I was dating a guy in high school. Mema met him for the first time when she'd come up for Thanksgiving. (She is at home in the south, we are in hell in the north.) He left our house one day so I asked Mema what she thought. "Oh he is a handsome devil! If I were your age, I'd give you a run for your money!" "Mema, what the eff! I'm your granddaughter!"
She smirks and chuckles, "I knowww." Dirty old bat. "I would give him the- duh nuh! Duh nuh!" As she undoes her robe to reveal her night gown, singing old strip club music. "MEMA!!" I laugh. She giggles.

She came a second and third time. When we brought her to our church, everyone remembered her- "Hi Mema!" They chime. "Hey Mema! How are you?" A million times, her not remembering who is who. "Dayumn." She whispers, "I'm leaving here with four times as many grandchildren as when I last came up!"

This is the infamous Mema that I talk of often. She means the world to me and I hope I end up to be half as cool as she is. Stay tuned another week for the most EPIC story of all stories- Mema vs Hurricane Katrina.

Optimism vs Pessimism

It was brought to my attention earlier, "Well, what's the point of being an optimist? You get all your hopes up for something and sometimes it crashes and fails and you get disappointed."

I had a quick answer for that one.  First off, I don't get disappointed to the point where I've ever become pessimistic, it's just not in my nature. However, that answer doesn't fly for all of us optimists, so here is what said: If you look at it this way, pessimists are all kinds of disappointment anyway- they believe nothing good will come, everything will go wrong, and they won't believe in themselves because they believe it leads to failure. Optimists look on the brighter side, have aspirations, might dream big, but because they dream big and believe themselves to be capable, they make things capable. If one does fail, you've lost nothing then haven't you? You were happy doing whatever it was you were to accomplish, you tried, and if you failed, there's always trying again or doing something different- quite frankly, an optimist doesn't give a shat. Like killing a cockroach. Doesn't happen.
But with all that happiness, wouldn't the slightest of failures every now and then make it worth it? Being a pessimist seems a little disappointing at all times.

Right?

In Canada

My favourite memory from one Canada trip with Belle. It's simple. It's sweet. We laughed for hours.

Walking back to our hotel, Belle points out a large sign in front of us: LIQUOR AND SPIRITS 40% OFF
She screams frantically, "SALE ON BOOZE! RUN!!" We started running as fast as we could toward this sophisticated little booze shop. We got Mike's Hard, Absynthe, 42 Below Vodka, and a baby bottle of Crown Royal. Just because we could.

When there is a sale, you run. Not walk.

New Native Name

I went out to the lake last summer with a friend-we'll call her May. We were all alone until three native American boys came to our little cliff spot to the right of the main beach.

"Hey girls." One of the three said. We respond back with a wave. "So, are you two together like together or just here hanging out as friends."
We were so dumbfounded by the questioning of our orientation we burst out laughing, "Just friends guys. Calm down." We were keeping to ourselves when the tall skinny one started talkin to me. Just random questions, wanting our names, where we live, just random curiosities any stranger would ask as they were sharing a water spot. We found out they of the Nez Perce people. The chubby guy about my height started running and jumped off the highest cliff, landing with a big splash. The younger boy ran off and did the same.
The skinny one, still trying to strike up conversation asks, "why don't you jump off?"
Ha. Me? Heights? You're joking.
I laugh and shake my head no.
"You?" He asks May.
She just shakes her head, trying to avoid conversation.
"C'mon, it's fun, watch I'll do it." I follow the guy up the land and around to the grassy cliff. I go to the edge and look down. In reality, it's only about a nine or ten foot jump. In my mind, it goes on forever and I'd have a ton of uncomfortable air time.
He jumps off, surfaces, and gives me a smile.
"Do it, don't be a pansy." Says the chubby one.
"Dude I'm such a pansy! I can't do heights." I say.
"De-pansify yourself!" The skinny one in the water calls up.
He comes out of the water, runs to my side and grabs my hand. "We'll jump together, okay?"
I shoot May a look. She just smiles, shrugs, and rolls her eyes. The chubby is conversating with her further telling her she should.
I look down again. " On three okay?" He says. I walk away. It scared me.
"Oh c'mon!" He follows after.
At that moment, I grab my balls, turn around, and run as fast as I can off the cliff. The boys in a frenzy, cheering. I surface and smile. Chubbs calls out to me, "Hey, your native name is now Big Balls. Prove yourself worthy by jumping again, and I shall give you a new native name."
I didn't even care about the name- it was so wonderful to just jump! Finally just let go. I ran up to the cliff again, doing the same routine, and just jumping instead of waiting.
I surface and Chubbs calls out to me.
"I have your new native name. It shall be Bigger Balls." All the boys laugh, May too. "Bigger Balls!" "Bigger Balls!"

That's how I got my native name from the Nez Perce peoples.

Reason 1 Why the south is King

I'm just a little lady from Mississippi- somewhere RIGHT next to the Gulf. Moved to Montana, went on a Christmas roadtrip with family to see Mema. Mema is King.

We drove for days and days. Finally getting out of that van, stretching my legs, feeling the great moisture of the humidity on my skin, I felt I was home. I walked into a gas station and here's where the fun began.

Let's compare. In the north, you walk into a gas station, no one talks, you get your shit, you go. If there's someone about to come through the door as you leave, usually you be the nice one and let them through first, without a peep, then go on out minding your own business like nothing ever happened and you were never there.

In the south, let me give you just ONE incident.... I get an icecream bar- friggin hot there, even in 'winter time'. Walk up to the front counter, big 'ol black woman makes instant conversation. "Oh how you doin' baby?"
"Just fine thank you, and yourself?"
"Oh I tell you what, it's hotter than hell out there, mmhmm. That icecream bar looks reals good. Imma have to get me one-a-them when I get off workm mmhmm- oh my word child, where'd you get your nails done?"
I look down at my florescent orange nails.
"Did them myself."
"Shoot girl, those look wonderful! I tell you what, you ever need your nails done, I have a cousin that does wonderful..." before I knew it, I was explaining why I couldn't get my 'nails did' by her cousin because I was on a family trip and I was explaining my life story. So was she- from Oklahoma. All of this happened within a matter of three minutes tops. We do it quick and right in the south.
" Well baby, you have yourself a good'n you hear?"
"Yes ma'am."
I'm exiting the store when I see two guys on the other side of the glass. Both look about my age if not only a couple years older, one wearing a Carhart, the other some plaid and coveralls, both in cowboy boots and hats.
You see, in Montana-Wyoming- they're a pack and anything in their way is disposable. You move or get moved.
In the south, here's how things get handled by REAL men...
We step to the door about the same time, the boy in the Carhart opens the door our his way, and BOTH boys step to the side, clearing a way for me.
"Thank you boys."
"Yes ma'am." They both say.
LADIES IN TEENS OR TWENTIES- WHEN HAS ANYONE YOUR AGE EVER SAID "YES MA'AM" TO YOU? When you're in the south. Boys don't have any manners in the north for women. Men in the south do. Mmhmm. I think I might have blushed a little and smiled. They waited until I was funny exited before entering.
"Hey boys!" I heard the cashier say, greeting them in.

Boys in the north- take it from the Men in the south. Use your manners, win over ladies. This whole "Imma hump everything with a vagina" thing is only in music and boys in the south that get no action but disease infested action. Be a man. Not a boy. Man. Boy. Man. Boy. Learn the difference.

720

I've always had this thing with the number 720. It's been everywhere. Time. Answers to math tests. Even on detergent boxes. I've grown to love this number. It means absolutely nothing. It's a collaboration of symbols we made up.  But I find significance in them. It's a lovely number. That's all.

Yellow Hummer

This past December, I took a roadtrip with my family to the south. That was a mistake.

On the way there, we met up with some friends in Denver. The kids were about half my age. They played this game called "Yellow Car". How you played was every time you saw a yellow car, you'd call out YELLOW CAR and smack the person next to you. It was rather annoying, but you had to join to be the smacker and not the smackee otherwise it became really annoying.
I usually wasn't paying attention, hence I knew this. All the time YELLOW CAR! Smack! You could add up points every car. Then there were yellow hummers- the god of all yellow cars apparently. You get three points for each of those. Us older chaps- me and my brothers- decided to bullshit our own spin on the game. Calling out random yellow cars and hummers just to add up points. Then started the surprises.
The car would get quiet then all of a sudden "Woah did you see that?" One of the younger ones would bite. "What? Where??" One of my brothers would usually do the trick. "It was a pack of yellow hummers! Over there!" They'd look all over and never find anything of coarse.
On our way back to the north, we stopped at an Olive Garden. On our way out, this was my time. My time to prank the ones that have done it so much they didn't think they were capable of being got!
The Olive Garden was right next to the freeway. We were walking to the car, me, my brothers, mum, and my older brother's gal at the time.
"OH MY GOD! LOOK AT THAT!" I screeched.
"What?! What!?" They were frantic as if a crash happened, seeing as how I was pointing to the freeway in the evening sky.
" A WHOLE FLOCK OF YELLOW HUMMERS!" I smiled really big.
It took them just a couple of seconds before everyone burst out laughing.
"That was pretty good."Said my older brother. Never thought I'd hear that coming from him. It was glorious. I had pulled the biggest yellow hummer prank.

Ohhh caaanadaaa! PT 2

Where were we... ah yes. Just got back to the hotel, ready for a full night's rest...Well. As good of one as we can get- we knew we'd be walking that day. As poor kids, we'd be walking everywhere- including seven miles to our first destination at the Calgary Zoo.

We got up, and set out for some lunch. I loved that town. Love that town. so busy, everyone out and about, so festive. I miss it. Anywho, we find a nice place. "Dude we're eighteen, let's get drinks." Belle smiled at me.
I'd never had a drink before. I wasn't like everyone else in high school. Didn't really have the want or need for it. Aside from the fact I never had access to it but that didn't bother me one bit. I just looked at her with an unsure look. "Okay. Okay, yeah. Sounds like an adventure."
We walked in and clearly didn't fit the move of the place- bright dresses, all prettied up for the big town, full of adventure. Everyone else, mostly men mind you, were dressed like.... well, like anyone in the city would be i suppose. Blending in with their grays and blues and dark coloured clothing. We took a high top next to a window. It was beautiful and sunny that day. Our waitress came over, smiling at us. "Hello ladies can i get you anything to drink while you're looking at the menu?"
"Long island iced tea for me." Belle says. She looks at me.
"I have no idea." I giggle.
"Do you have anything fruity?" Belle asks.
The waitress thinks. "Not really, this is more of a guys bar." She smiles. As if we hadn't looked around.
"I know what to get you." She smiles again and walks off.
We exchange looks, shrug, and start looking at the menu again. I don't even remember what I ordered that day. I just remember the drink. The drink that started a wonderful craving for a wonderful taste.
She brought out our drinks, Belle sipping her's immediately in delight.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Vodka, 7up, and raspberry flavouring."
I took a sip. Wonderful. Not everyone can remember their first drink. Not everyone cared. I'll never forget the sweet, cold sensation with the aftertaste of something musky. Mmm.
We left there and went to the liquor store.
After that we set off for the zoo. We walked to that zoo wide-eyed. The city life so wonderful. When we got to the zoo we were there four hours and didn't even get to see everything it was so big. Our legs hurt on the way back. We stopped at a second hand store and got sweet vintage clothing. Then stopped at a swimsuit shop to get some board shorts to go swimming at our pool. 
We swam around for a little while. A long while. The water felt marvelous on our tired legs.
"I wanted to go to the bar tonight. There's one attached to the hotel." She said.
"Okay, I'm game." We walked out a little while before that happened. Across the street there was another bar we walked by that day. "I hope she knows she doesn't match." A woman said from what we now call The Insult Box. It was a bar that had windows you could sit at to view the street.
Belle laughed at her, looking at my red plaid shirt, orange pants, and purple shoes that day.
"Man, eff that ho!"
We were getting hungry, so we finally decided to hop in the camero and go eat at a Hooters. I'd never been to one of those either.  We ate, drank merrily, and tipped the waitress in loonies and toonies in a picture. I had to drive us home hehe.
We sat at the room for only a short while and headed down to the bar.  A quiet little place. "Want to go to the insult box?" Belle asked. We walked across the street and sat exactly where the lady sat before. We decided to make it our compliment box and yell compliments to people outside the window to counteract the insults earlier. Also random comments like " THE HYPOTENUSE WOULD HAVE BEEN SHORTER!" Good times.
Whilst commenting people, three boys walked by. They chatted, then walked in and sat with us at our compliment box. Ivan was the tallest of the three and sat next to me. A bald german. He shaved it all off he told us. He was our age. The other was a picture ruiner we found out later, and the other some skinny brunette boy that spilled his beer on me. He was the first to leave. The bartender came over to us and handed me an Belle a couple of shots. "This is for being the craziest Americans I've ever seen!"
We left the bar with the two remaining guys that night. Roamed the town, and ended up at another bar. It was about three in the morning by the time we got there- the doors closed after we walked in. It was a wild night at this bar. They were open hours later than they should have been and we even met some guy who called himself by the name of Skittles and two German models that asked for a threesome.
Lots of wild things went on that night but I don't feel the liberty to share them all via internet and only word of mouth.

What happens in Canada should stay in Canada.

Ohh Caaanadaa!!

This is probably my most absolute favourite story to tell. It's a long one, but believe you me, it's so worth it. Might even be two Blogs worth of writing. Before you read this, know that.... we'll call her Belle- is my best friend ever. EVER. This story is true and none is fabricated.

"Dude, what are you doing at the end of August?" Belle calls me up and asks immediately on a June afternoon.
"Nothing I guess. I don't plan that far ahead." I said. We had just graduated from high school and nothing else was on my mine but to get to college. Finally. I had planned a last trip with all of my bros from high school to go to my home lands of Mississippi, but those plans had fallen through. "Good! You're going with me to Canada to see Blink-182!"
Nice. Last time I was in Canada, I was with my family going to the waterslides. This should be rather interesting. "Okay!" I said.
"Good! I was hoping you'd say that! I ALREADY BOUGHT THE TICKETS!"
*FASTFORWARD*
She drives up in her pretty little maroon Camero. I hop in, and on our way we go. A seven hour drive. Getting to Canada was easy, seeing as how we lived only 40 miles away.  The roadtrip was great, just what I needed. Some bumpin bass for hours on end to go see some band I've never really listened to. *Shhh don't tell her* Then there it was. The most epic thing on the face of this planet- a ginger llama. She flipped a bitch in the middle of God knows where and pulled over on the side of the road. We went over to talk to it and pet it. Didn't seem to like me but liked the grass Belle was feeding it. We loved that damn llama and all its retardedness. It's effed up feet to its HUGE underbite that made it look really REALLY retarded with it's bugeyes. Oh yes. We loved it so much, that to this day we have friendship necklaces that she later made. Both matching with little llama beads.
Onward we went. Canadians smiled and pointed at us. They liked her specialized plates she had at the time, IPWNU. We finally arrived at Calgary, found our hotel, chilled for a little bit- then we were off. We were poor kids, so we walked everywhere.
WARNING: Unless you are in decent physical condition and CAN walk for HOURS, I don't advise what we did those days in Canada.
Anywhozers, we set off for the concert. Arrived early, but clearly not early enough. Such a LONG LINE! Her tickets were online, so we thought we were supposed to be in the express lane. Walked up there, waited a good 30 minutes, then found out we weren't. Soooooo we cut in line. As in the very front of the line. A girl behind us started bitchin and I just gave her a dirty look as if to say, try me.
No one wants to anger a ginger.
We get through security, and go straight to the tees and stuff. I got a sweet All-American Rejects tee, and she got a Blink-182 hoodie and tee. I heard All-American Rejects start. It was glorious. Tyson Ritter has the voice of an angel. I'll never forget the way he sounded when he sang "The Wind Blows". I think I jizzumed a little.
Anywho, we went in, found our seats... WE WERE IN THE VERY BACK AT THE VERY TOP! Oh heeeelllllls nah. The place wasn't even half filled yet. This sucked. I could barely see that gorgeous man. Plus the jackasses behind us were so amused with the fact that Belle had a damn tattoo on her back. Annoying.
Ohh yes we SO moved up. Not even just to the front of the balcony- we moved UP- as far as we could get forward without being in the VIP crowd. No one was there to check us. We just kinda moved forward when no one was looking. Was there for All-American Rejects. Was there for Fall Out Boy- and again, when Patrick sang Dance, Dance, I think I changed my undies.
Oh yes. That means exactly what you think it means. So exciting.
Then finally- what Belle had been waiting eight years to see- Blink-182 was getting set up. She was super stoked and I was happy for her. Hell, here I am, and still haven't seen my favourite band ever after ten years of support.
Then it happens- two wenches walk up like they got something to own "Uhm, these are our spots." Belle and I just kinda shrug and start conversing amongst ourselves. "No really, these are our seats. You must be mistaken." I could tell by the tone that either daddy didn't love her, or loved her too much because she her whine was ever so unattractive and the snottiness in her voice was enough to make me wanna brawl. "We can all fit." Belle said. The stupid little wankers turned and went to get the po po on staff. "C'mon up here!" This guy said above us, sitting in a big booth just him and a few of his pals. "We'll party with you!" He said, and pulled Belle and I up. "Thanks!" We said, but the snitching wankers pointed us out at the same time we climbed up. The po po came over. They checked our tickets but couldn't quite make them out- Belle was smart enough before to realized it was on computer paper and smudged the shit out of it. "You'll have to get another ticket from the front booth." Said one. " Uh no!" Belle protested. " We paid good money for these seats!" What an actress.
They escourted us out of the stadium. We went to the bathroom and she started sobbing.
I don't mean pansy tears either, I mean don't go chasing waterfalls, because the river is flowing!
"I've waited so long to see them and now I don't get to." The band hadn't started yet but I felt it was close.
"NO!" I screamed at her, " I DID NOT TRAVEL SEVEN HOURS TO GET BOOTED OUT BY SOME STUCK UP BITCHES! YOU WANT TO SEE BLINK-182? WE'RE GONNA SEE THEM DAMNIT!" I grabbed her hand and marched out the bathroom, and into another entrance close to the front- about directly in front of the stage rather than off to the side like we were before. I saw a staff, and went up, "Stay here" I told the broken Belle. "Look," I proceeded, " We got booted out of our row down there, " as I pointed" and they told us our seats were over here and said you could help." I'm a good liar. It's so bad.
"Sorry but there's nothing I can do if I can't read the tickets. There's no extra seating down here." Ha! I CAN SEE IT WHORE! But all I said was, "Please, she's been waiting years to see these guys." The staffass shrugged and at about that time, Belle came running up " I found the other ticket! Here's one!" The staff looked at it, "oh in this row, right this way..."
I just looked at her. "How did you...?"
"I'll explain later." She whispers.
Perfect timing. The band comes on and I think that was the time that SHE needed some extra clothes- SO EXCITED!! After the first song she explained what happened.

"The guy I'm sitting next to saw me crying and asked why. I told him our story, and he gave me his ticket since they'd already seen him. That was his ticket that I handed to the lady. I asked him if he wanted me to pay him something for the ticket but..." she kinda looked at him and smiled a sec.
"He said he didn't take money and I'm pretty sure he wants something else in return."
Dear God. She sold our souls to the devil.
We rocked out, jammed out, and all the while, the greasy, long-haired, middle-aged guy sitting next to us was....sleeping while standing? Not sure. Pretty sure he was coked out. Whatever. But he finally woke one time and started talkin to Belle. I had to save her from this one- "WHAT?" I asked like I knew nothing.  He looks at me with a confused stare. "She said you were in on the deal or something, I don't know, talk to her!"
I looked at her confused. "No I didn't! I said you were with me! He wants sexual favors. We have to leave early."
Ohhh man. So the concert went on, and the dude said "This is our last one!" The lights went dark, she looked to him to see him sleeping or whatever again, "Go!" She said. I held onto her hand tightly, and we booked it up the stairs. We were about to the top when we heard "WAIT STOP!" I looked back and there he was, climbing after us.
"RUN!" I said.
We ran as fast as we could to the bathroom. "STOP! "He called after us.
Time for a quickchange. We took out our shirts and stuff we bought and changed into them. I put my hair up, she threw her hoodie over her head. I checked out- it was clear.
We ran to the doors we thought we first came into- "Sorry ladies you can't leave."
"WHAT?" We said.
"Not out these doors, they're locked. You have to go around.
oh.
We ran around, and out the doors, down the stairs, so hysterical with laughter. I took a picture of her in front of the Blink-182 sign. We began our journey back to our hotel. What a night. We were talking about the concert and about the creeper, when all of a sudden we hear running footsteps behind us and "Hey!"
No more nice ginger.
I turned around, put Belle behind me, fists raised "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?"
"Woah woah woah!" This little skinny guy threw his hands up, and jumped back. "Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you!" He said in a drunken slur. "Well what is it?" I put my fists down. Wrong guy. This one was about early twenties with a wicked cut on his brow. "You know where the bar is?" He aked. "We're not from arou-" but before I could get it out, she interrupted me. "Go two blocks down and it's a block to your left." I looked at her.
"Thanks!" He said. And as if just realizing what we were wearing for the first time, "You guys went to the concert?!" We sighed. "Yeah."
"AND GOT TEE SHIRTS?!" I think this guy pissed himself.
"Yes."
"Yeah, I got into a fight and got kicked out." He was smiling and proud."Okay see ya."And we walked off.
"I have no idea where I just lead him, I just didn't want to talk to him!" We laughed and for giggles, went to see where we had lead him.
I kid you not- it was a place called The Bar. I'll never doubt her intuition ever again.
We got back and just chilled. What a night. Tomorrow was where more excitement was to take place. But that's for the next blog.

What Is and What Is Meant

I live about 20 minutes from Town in a smaller town that doesn't have any stores, stops, or cops. Then again I guess a speed limit would have to be there for any cops to have anything to do. You must also know that for the past week there has been construction in between my little town and the Town.

I was driving back today- and in my rear-view mirror, noticed someone in a GMC driving like a maniac, passing everyone in his path in a construction zone. Wow. Really buddy? If you gotta pee that bad just pull over. Anywho, before I knew it, the crazy man was right behind me.
Oh no. Not this little lady you don't. You wait like everyone else! He not only rode the yellow line but...  well literally rode ON it! Seeing to pass me! Uh huh. Try it. I dare ya, was my first thought. As soon as I looked up again, we were coming to a stop behind a long line of cars. The flagger was notifying everyone that it would be about ten minutes.
I park my car, listen to some jams, and look at the man behind me again- though it is clear NO ONE is going anywhere or moving, he scoots his car up. Again. And again.
"NO ONE IS MOVING TARDASS!" I scream. But my beats were much louder than that and I'm not even sure his window was rolled down. We all sit there a while, staring at what is in front of the other. Then I notice the man get out, and two little girls about eleven or so. They walk to the front of their big vehicle thing and stare at my license plate. They giggle, point at it to show their -assumed- father, and got out their phones to take pictures.
I open my car door, "Something funny ladies?" I said with a smile. We'll see how this goes.
They shake their heads with excitement. "We like your plate! How did you get it?"
My plates are personalized and say KISSES. Used to be something I said whenever leaving someone. Like 'goodbye' or 'see ya'. I thought it might be appropriate for my car.
"I asked for them to be that way." I giggled, " I thought you were going to ask what an OKAPI was," as I have SAVE THE OKAPI on my plate frame. The man approaches me.
Dear Lord, I think, I'm about to rip him a new one.
"Wow, what is the deal, eh? Do you have to do this everyday?" He asked.
Hm. Seemed friendly enough.
"Yes sir, I live in (little town) about well.. only ten minutes from here going the speed limit. It's been like this for about a week now."
"Well what on Earth are they doing?" He asked.
"Well," I started, actually knowing now because I asked the same thing myself earlier that morning to one of the workers."They're stripping the road, filling the cracks, that sort of thing."
"They can't think of a better system than this? This is ridiculous! Where I'm from, Chicago, everyone would have passed the flagger for this! You don't seem like you're from here.The way you talk that is..."
I could tell by that tone, he was meaning the way I dressed too. Not exactly Montana country girl attire- Stilettos, dressed up for only I knew what, and the biggest prescription glasses you've ever seen; round and shot out from the 70's. "No sir, Mississippi." I say it with a little pride. Always good to know I'm never claimed from this state I take residency in.
"Ah, well I'm trying to get across the border today." He notions to the girls, "Taking these girls up to Calgary to see Tegan and Sara." He laughs to himself, " MY summer vacation and I take these guys to see em. What a dad huh?" As he rolls his eyes.
Wish my dad was that cool.
"Wow awesome! You gals have a good time!" I said.
"Yeah thanks." They smiled.
"You could have gone through (Town) you know. Canada is forty miles away, go straight up to Medicine Hat and take a left all the way to Calgary. Only seven hours." I advised.
"Too late now." He motioned in Town's direction, quite a drive considering construction but only ten minutes if there were none. "I guess." I said. "The border closes at nine."
"No kidding?" He says.
" Yes sir, I go every summer. You'll get there in time going this way too." Seeing it was only a little after five.
"What are we supposed to do if we don't? Get a hotel?" He asked a little worried.
I just shrugged, " I guess. But I know you'll make it."
I decided he was a good guy, so I let him in on a little secret.
"Hey, when you come back across from Canada to America, they'll ask you if you purchased anything while there. You tell them no. Tell them you were just at the waterslides or something."
He looked a little confused.
"If you tell them you bought something, even a soda or a shirt, they'll tax the ever living out of it then you'll have to pay. The catch is, it goes to the border guys that do it. It's just another way of getting money out of you, just say you don't have anything. They'll check in the windows and trunk, but if you get a souvenir hide it in your suitcase. You'll be fine."
"Gee thanks!" He smiled at me. We both looked at the direction our cars were going. We saw trail of cars from the other direction coming. It was almost time to get going. "Well, y'all have a safe trip." I said, getting into my car. He shook my hand, "You have a great night now miss."
"Yes sir."
We went for what seemed like forever down that stretch of road. I periodically looked behind me and noticed the man was no longer trying to pass me. He no longer looked rushed. Just stayed behind me. It was coming to my turn off, and I put on my blinker. The crazy man pulled up next to me in the other lane, "Thanks again!" He said out his window, "This your turn?" "Yes sir!" I said, " Hey, while you're up there, go to the Zoo, it's phenomenal!" " Oh we will!" He replied, and waved as I turned off.

I could have taken a different route with that man in conversation that day. I could have told him what an ass he was being, what a dumb driver he was, but had I opened my mouth with cruel intentions instead of kindness, I'd have never understood his intentions. Just a single father taking a couple girls to see a performance. He was rushing for the girls. Not because he was angry at the world. I wish more people did this in day to day life- showed a smile instead of a snarl. Listen. Then act.

Room 123

I'm working at a hotel that I'm not sure I'm able to say the name of, so we'll just leave it alone for legal sake.

So at this particular hotel, I, and a friend that happened to start workin there at the same time, are about two weeks in. We're still n00bs, but we kick ass at our job and we get stuff done. Anywhozers, To begin our morning routine, we have to meet in the break room, get our papers- one assigned for each floor- six floors. On said particular day, I walked in to a few of the fellow housekeepers shocked and looking to each other in horror.
"Room 123 is leaving! Room 123 is leaving!"
"Who is the room assigned to?!"
Everyone was so uppity about this particular room, I had to ask.
"What's with room 123?"

"Oh man!" The tale began, "He's been in there for ten days now! Never let anyone in to clean it, give him new towels, nothing!" Said one of the ladies.
"Yeah! Someone at the front desk told me that they took him by taxi two times a day for beer and have never seen any boxes come out!"
Wow.  I gotta see what this room is like! I thought. You know, only so much drama can go on whilst housekeeping, so this was definitely the gossip of the summer. 
"So who has the room?" I was also now a little antsy to see who had the room of doom.
"She does" One of the women pointed and looked at the door as my friend- we'll call her T- walked into the break room.
"Good luck...." Someone said to her. She was a bit confused so I filled her in.
Our supervisor walks into the break room. She knows what all the fuss is about. Her face gets serious and she said to all "I don't want anyone going into that room without a facemask and gloves."
After we collaborated and got our floors assigned, I walked T to her floor- we looked down the hall to where the Room was- one of the maintenance guys was hauling out beer box after beer box after beer box- finally had a stack about to his neck. Kids, he's not short guy. By any means. He had a disgusted look on his face. Disgusted and pissed.
"Good luck to whoever one of you has to clean that shit up. I can't even believe this...." He walks off.
I look at T.
She looks at me.
We walk closer to the room, getting a whiff of a strange funk.
Closer.
Closer.
Finally we realized the reek was coming from the Room. We peered around the corner, and anyone would have dropped their jaw from what we saw-
 Beer. Everywhere. Cans, cups, spills, mess... everywhere. Opened cans, empty cans, crushed cans, full cans, not even opened cans- in the bathroom, in the bed, all over. That's not the worst part. Many of us prayed that day that THAT was the worst...
There was chewing tobacco stuck to the dresser and desk. Puke on the floor- and yes, in the sheets. Where the man slept. For ten days. Towels covered in Lord knows what- browns, blacks, reds just a horrendous slew of colour never wanted to be seen. LITERAL FECES on the OUTSIDE of the toilet, and later to be found under the bed and on the mattress. This man had no animal with him. There was piss that lined the tops of the dresser. The lamps detached from their shades.
"There is no excuse for this..." Our supervisor comes up from behind us.
"I can't even fathom... just one guy! Ten days!" I said.
"They have been airing it out all morning and it still smells." She said.
I headed to my floor to start my cleaning- just happened to be the day that all baseball teams checked out. I had quite the mess to clean myself- spilled shakes everywhere, ripped off towel racks, spit balls on televisions, microwaves, and dressers... If I ever see a red team, green team, or purple team for baseball about high school age walking down the street... I don't know why they'd be there but if they ever were... I'd take one of their OWN bats and start swinging. Perhaps at some smaller balls than what they're used to hitting.
So at lunch time, everyone was curious as to how it went.
"I kneel'd in piss. I put my hand in puke; though I was wearing two gloves on each hand it was still gross."
We all had our horror stories to tell about the baseball teams and how their coaches are morons for letting them behave as such, but T took the cake for worst room that day.
"You guys don't get paid enough to put up with something like that. That is just nasty." Said our boss.

So, mister, whoever you are out there, know that you are not only NOT allowed back at the hotel, but any other *SAID NAME* hotel around the state. Consider yourself hated.

Happy Birthday with Roadsigns

There was about four hours before my teenage years were over and I was to be old.er.

I knew what had to be done- I had to steal a road sign. Not any road sign- THE road sign. The road sign that would signify my teenage years as over. Most girls get some party, flowers, treated to dinner and other such magicalness... Not this kid. I wanted a roadsign.

See I have a history of it- starting toward the end of high school years, well into college, and there I was, thinking wow, I've come so far. I've gathered quite the collection in a spot I'll remain unnamed and even given a few as presents. Big ones, small ones, usually ones that no one ever sees. Useless ones. Nothing like .... well. Nevermind, most are useless anywho. Speed limits, stop signs, mile markers, giant arrows... seems ages ago.

I had my boys and Squats with me- my main gal, down for anything at anytime. She's got bigger balls than the others put together. I say this matter-of-factly because she's been on some of those runs with me; fetching signs.  These guys? Not pro. Never been. I had a completely new crew and anytime I saw a sign I liked, I got the " noooo, that one's in the light! Let's go to another one." Damnit guys.

There was an hour before my teenage years were over. We HAD to find one HAD TO!!

And there it was in all of it's glory.... a snowflake. So beautiful. Just a simplistic white snowflake on a blue background.  I pulled over as close as I could get but there was a giant snow mound on the side of the road, so I couldn't get my car close enough.  Have no fear- I've don't this many times. Get on my knees as someone climbs on my back. Well, one of the younger bros got on my back- not a small dude, a well-built one. He wasn't quick either... so my back started to hurt. I just remember saying "dude, get off my back a minute and give me a break" as my arms were about to collapse. "almost got it...."
SHINK
YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
"DUDE YOU SCREAMED GET IN THE CAR!!" Squats yelled and ordered.
I got in the driver's position and everyone filed into the car and we sped away.
You must know as a side note, that was the night I freaked everyone out by makin them think I dyed my hair black. I really just sprayed it with black hairspray.

This is important information because I reached up (gloves on) to see if I was bleeding.
Oh you didn't catch that?? MOTHA RUCKA DROPPED A SIGN ON MY HEAD!!

I reached up, and saw a black pool in my glove. It was dark, so I breathed a little assuming it was the hair dye stuff. Pulled into a gas station so Squats could have a better look- it was blood alright. Damnit. Looked back at the boys and told them to stay- THEY HAD THE DAMN THING IN THE BACK WITH THEM!!! C'mon, even n00bs should know it goes in the trunk!!
Whatever.
Went into the bathroom, and said " Don't freak me out man, just tell me if I need to go to the hospital."
She looks. Winces.
"Dude don't do that to me!"
"I think you need to get stitches."
Damnit.
"Let's go see my mum dude." She used to work at a hospital- she'd know.

We go to my mum's house, I wake her. "mum....?" I say softly.She mutters.
"Mum....?" I say a little louder. "hhhmm?"
" I need you to tell me if i need to go to the hospital."
She shoots up out of bed, flips on the light, "WHAT?"
"It's nothing see? I'm fine. I'm alive. I'm not crying. But I bashed my head pretty good. Can you look at it?"
She looks at it. Winces.
"MUM don't do that to me! "
Wash that black shit outta your hair and then we'll see it." The boys and Squats are waiting patiently in the living room.
"Dude look-" I look at a clock. Fifteen minutes til. We did it. I did it. The last road sign of my childhood.

I washed out the black, careful of the boo-boo. Had her look at it again, " Yeah, you gashed it pretty bad. Put some ice on it." She said calmly and went to bed.

"That's it?" One of the boys said. "She didn't freak out!"
"Yeah, she knows I'm tough."
The boys went home, Squats left, and I was on the couch watchin some adult swim within the next half-hour.  About three in the mornin, I felt my shoulder very wet- went and checked it in the mirror, and the blood had flowed down my head. I washed my hair again, and finally passed out at about five. Woke in the mornin, saw it had crusted over, and now I live with a cool story to tell.