Guest Post!

I decided that since Samantha was going to be a general topic 'round here (she has her own tag, y'all!), she deserved to be able to guest post here whenever she wants. I did that for you, blog. Because I love you.

Kashmir describes my Facebook picture.

Kashmir: I think you look like a computer animated character from final fantasty

Kashmir: during her back story

Kashmir: about how her family was murdered and she set out on the dark and lonesome road to avenge them

The heart wants what the heart wants.

Me: We should have some hot chocolate.

Zeb: I can make it.

Me: Are you sure? I can totally make it.

Zeb: No, I can do it! ::beat:: Do you want marshmallows?

Me: Follow your heart, little man. Follow your heart.

Going for it.

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. I mean, I have so much free time; it's not like I'm doing much else, right? I want to be better. I want to be a better person. I know that I am capable of anything and I don't really understand why I am not happy. I have the capacity to be happy, but I deliberately sit here in my own personal sad place. Jeannette tells me that when I came home from camp, I was so happy. I was so optimistic and hopeful for the future. Now, I am sad that I wake up everyday, and that is not a good place, blog. It is not where I want to be.

I am going to be better. Opportunities are not for wasting, and nobody is just going to hand them out. I am going to find them and take them. After all, what do I have to lose? It's high time I stop worrying about who or what I might leave behind. If they want me, they'll come with me.

Stinky and Delicious

Samantha keeps yelling across the house that Zeb smells like tacos. And burritos.

Samantha: Zeb, why do you smell like tacos? And burritos?
Zeb: Because you're an idiot.

I love this family.

Micecapades

The last few days it's been incredibly cold in the big MO. Well, okay, not cold. It's been incredibly COOL. No false information here. Anywho, as what I can only presume is a direct result of that change in temperature, the mice that live in the family room that was once an outside room and is now closed in and serving as a spare bedroom/Kashmir's shitroom/tv room/general shit room have lost their damn minds and started running about. In a house. With humans. AND CATS!!!!

I was walking through the kitchen Saturday night when I noticed that Jude was paying awful close attention to SOMETHING. I followed his line of site and saw a baby mouse lying about a foot away from him. The mouse was not moving, so I immediately assumed s/he was dead. I moved closer and saw hir move a few inches. At this point, I immediately called my mother, not because I was scared OF the mouse, but because I am a big ole softy and was sure that if I picked hir up, I'd try to keep hir. My mom picked the baby mouse up in a plastic sack and handed it to me to take outside.

Now, you have to understand, blog, I have been a bit of an emotional wreck lately. My anxiety is out of control, I hadn't been sleeping well, and I am just generally lonely. Hopefully this will explain what happened next. I crouched down to tip the mouse out of the bag into the FREEZING cold wild (I am serious. It was below freezing Saturday night) and the mouse just sat there, shaking and staring at me. I immediately picked hir up, clutched hir to my chest and started BAWLING and telling my mom I couldn't put it out, that it'd die and could I PLEASE OH PLEASE KEEP IT?! PLEEEEEEEEASE?!

Yeah. It was bad. She relented and told me I could keep the baby mouse (SQUEEEEEE!) and we called Samantha to have her come home to help me find an aquarium/terrarium for hir to live in. While waiting, the mouse and I sat in the aforementioned family room, me whispering comforting thoughts to the poor shaking thing. It was at this point that I heard a scratching noise across the room and see that both Jude and Lucy are stalking a brown paper sack in the vicinity. I walk over, baby mouse in tow, open the sack and see that it is full of toys. And another baby mouse. I know, it was intense!

Once Samantha arrived, she punched holes in an old ice cream tub. We lined it with paper, lettuce, tortilla chips, and peanut butter. I took an old medicine cup and cut the BULK of the top off to make a shallow dish for water. I set the first mouse in the new, but temporary home, while Samantha attempted to catch the other baby mouse who was trying to JUMP out of the brown paper sack. I grabbed the feisty mouse and placed hir in the tub with hir sibling.

They thoroughly enjoyed the peanut butter! Shortly thereafter, my mom noticed that Cooter had something in her mouth. Upon inspection, I discovered that she had captured and killed ANOTHER baby mouse. She was carrying hir around in her mouth and showing off to Lucy and Jude.

I couldn't be mad at her because I love her too much! Anyway, it was at about this point that I realized I was being irrational and that keeping the mice would be out of the question. I decided to harbor them until the morning at which point it would be MUCH warmer and I would be able to release them in the field next to our house GUILT FREE. While sitting in the family room that started this whole debacle discussing my intentions with my mother, I heard a scratching sound in a chest of drawers that all three cats had taken post around. We went through all of the drawers and in the top drawer, once full of the seeds for my mom's garden, we found another damn baby mouse! We pulled the drawer out and when I tried to catch hir to add to the tub of mice, the wily thing jumped out of my hands and ran across the room where s/he probably still is as we speak.

I released the two I kept in the tub the following morning and felt like I had done a great deed. Samantha informed me I was a monster and condemning them to death. HA. WHO IS IRRATIONAL NOW, LITTLE SISTER?!

My brain is full of fail.

Sometimes I feel like the weight of my own stupid, STUPID choices is crushing me. I suppose that is how it's supposed to be...if the choices weren't stupid, they wouldn't be crushing me. It wouldn't make sense for you to make stupid choices and there to be no negative consequences. Regardless, I can't breathe because I am being squished under the weight of my own failed logic.

Maturity is for suckers.

Me: Zeb, you are a buttface. You know what that means?

Zeb: What?

Me: It means your face looks like a butt! HURR HURR HURR!!!!

Meow.

This morning, while in bed, Lucy crawled onto my chest and began to purr. Samantha, who had come to wake me up, sat down on my bed and promptly farted. The following conversation ensued:

Me: Thanks for farting in my bed.
Her: What? That's just how I purr.

Quote of the Day

I couldn't get a fucking Goody's card, and they went out of business.
-Samantha

Feces

There are three cats and three dogs who run in and out of my room whenever they choose. Who got shit on my comforter? It better have been one of the animals and not my dad.

The Main Reason I am Obsessed with Dental Hygeine

I have this recurring dream about my teeth. The situation varies (last night, everything happened while I prepared for my friend Meghann's wedding that took place in May of 2009), but the content is always the same. I am trying to do something seemingly normal when all of a sudden my teeth begin to crumble and fall out of my mouth. I always know in my dream, I always know when it is going to be THAT dream. I will be talking, or rollerskating, or giving a speech, or (in the case of last night's dream) printing directions to Tennessee (as if I didn't know how to get there by heart) when I notice that my teeth are loose in their sockets. It is the most horrifying feeling because at this point I KNOW I AM DREAMING AND I KNOW WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN NEXT!!!! There is nothing I can do to stop it, and as conscious as I am that I am dreaming, there is nothing I can do to help the dream stray off course. I've tried that. My teeth still crumble and fall out.

So, in my dream, once I notice that my teeth are loose in the sockets, it is but a few minutes before I start spitting out chunks of bicuspid and molar and blood. All of the force of spitting that out causes what's let of my teeth to begin crumbling. Once my teeth are crumbled into a fine powder in my mouth, they mix with my blood and saliva forming this thick, chunky paste.

In the dream I had last night, I was sitting at a computer in an office we DON'T have in a house we DON'T live in and I was leaning over a trash can spitting out chunks of blood and teeth and powdered paste made of blood and spit and crumbled teeth. It is unreal the amount of chunky paste in my mouth. My mouth was so full of it, and it's as if it was expanding (because in nightmares, physics don't apply) and trying to go down my throat to choke me. It's oddly familiar, like when the dentist is making a mold of your teeth with that weird minty putty. I was leaning over the trash can gagging because I couldn't spit and scrape the mess out of my mouth fast enough when my mother walked by the office we don't have in the house we don't live in and asked what the hell I am doing. I was crying and choking and trying to get it out of my mouth and to talk to her and to explain it to her because CAN'T SHE SEE? I DON'T HAVE ANY TEETH! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?!

And then I wake up.

The Spider, or, Why I Hate Everything Forever

Okay, so I am kind of messy. The other night I decided I would pick up the crap in my room. I started with a gigantic blanket in the floor. I picked it up and tossed half of it on my bed while I got the ends together to begin the tricky blanket folding process. Now, the bedrooms in this house do not have permanent light fixtures, so we use lamps. I have two small lamps in my room, both of which were on. THANK GOD I did, because I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Upon more focused inspection, I realized it was a gigantic red and orange spider. CRAWLING. ACROSS. MY. PRINCESS. PILLOWCASE. Don't believe me?

YEAH! YEAH! JESUS CHRIST WILL YOU LOOK AT THAT THING?! Now, you will be happy to hear that I did NOT scream. I DID however, jump up and down, stage whisper "OH SHIT OH SHIT" and then run to Phillip's room and squeal "omfg, Phillip, I was trying to, you know, fold a blanket, and then, I flipped this gigantic spider out onto my bed and oh my god IT'S ON SNOW WHITE PLEASE KILL IT! YOU HAVE TO KILL IT! I CAN'T KILL IT! IT'S HUGE! OH GOD, IT'S IN MY BEEEEDDDDD!!!!!"

Now, I have a tendency to over re-act SLIGHTLY when it comes to spiders that SURPRISE me, especially when I am not wearing shoes (which I am not), so Phillip put the XBOX controller down, grabbed a flip-flop and politely followed me into my room. As I mentioned before, the light in my room sucks, and in the interim the spider had relocated. I grabbed the little blue flashlight that Steph C. gave to me at camp and shined it (shone it?) onto the bed at which point The Spider decided to stop getting it on with my stuffed dog (also blue, also a gift from Steph C. interesting) and to grace us with an appearance in the spotlight. Phillip said "OH SHIT!" and then we both jumped up and down and did that squirmy dance you do when you get the heebie jeebies. Phillip suggested I take a picture of The Spider before he killed it, so I took one and then he smacked it all over Snow White's face and then tried to throw it away in the trash in my room, but I was NOT having that. I made him take it to the bathroom trash. As a parting note, however, Phillip deemed it necessary to inform me that I have too much "stuff" in my room, and that spiders can get in from the closet, from the windows, and up from the basement. JESUS THANKS PHILLIP I DID NOT EVER WANT TO SLEEP AGAIN, HOW DID YOU KNOW?!

So, now I have to change my pillow case, because I am not putting my face on that spidergermymess, and figure out how to sleep knowing not only that spiders like that EXIST, but that they exist in the same sphere that I EXIST IN!!!!!

It's like being at camp, only at camp we had normal brown spiders. And I had a roommate to be scared of spiders with.

Thank you to Bekah and Kadi for being online at the time of the incident so I had people to listen to (read?) me freakout.



UPDATE: I showed the picture to my mom who identified the spider as the regular ole garden spider that used to live in the bush right outside my window. I've spent most of the last month with my window open since my dad refuses to use the A/C and I like to not roast alive in my sleep. So, while not a vicious, poisonous, man-killing arachnid, it was still gross and I still had it put to death for crimes against me.

Welcome to my world.