When someone helps you move, the polite thing to do is immobilize them in plastic... right?

"How am I a 27 year old woman that doesn't own a matching set of glasses, but has a shot glass from every state and seven cookie sheets?" - A worthy question from a worthy Sister as we pack up our kitchen.

I am facing my last week in my lovely little home in the Wood. Not that this matters to most of you, as most of my readers and friends are spread across the country/globe/universe. I can hear you questioning now "Oh shoot, is this going to be sentimental nonsense instead of a funny story?" The answer is a resounding NO! I just wanted to share this awesome picture of the TDS* wrapped up in mover's plastic wrap.

She came to the house and spent hours helping us pack asking for nothing but the nickels and dimes she found on the floor**, and we rewarded her by wrapping her up and taking photos. Lovely.

This is my last week in this little state, and then my adventures will be coming to you via the road between here and San Francisco!

*Third Durham Sister. We have accepted her as one of us.

**She did ask for wine, which also seemed reasonable. However when I returned with a cheap white we realized that the kitchen had already been packed. The most logical thing to do? Unpack the kitchen boxes until we find a corkscrew, drink the wine, repack the kitchen boxes. Not the most brilliant plan, but definitely the most rewarding.

Turns out, my sister's not a murderer

Before you get too involved with the post, please consider how similar these two pictures are: 

 It's no secret that Maude and Sister don't get along very well. One of them consistently calls the other mean names while the other habitually urinates on the former's carpet. (See if you can figure out which is which...) I love them both, and usually try to stay out of whatever feud it is that they have had running for the past two years.*

Yesterday was a banner day for the two of them. Maude somehow broke free of her kennel, broke out of her diaper**, broke into Sister's room and defecated*** throughout. Sister was a little angry and told me she was going to "kill my dog", a threat I've heard before and never taken to heart. I told her she should be impressed that my severely handicapped dog was so handicapable.

Some hours later, Katie sends me a text warning me not to park in the driveway. When I ask her why, she sent a very disturbing text:

(Warning. This photo has been blurred to protect you from the gruesome image that appeared on my phone screen).

Holy smokes, my sister actually killed my dog! I knew she was mildly passive aggressive, but this was just downright cruel! Just yesterday I had seen Maude in the same position and found her pathetic and adorable: 

To make what could be an episode of Judge Judy short- the animal in our driveway was a rabbit. And it was dead when she got there. Sister has once again evaded the iron hammer of the law by doing nothing wrong. If you could zoom in on the picture that I blurred, you would see a large pair of rabbit ears, just like I saw when I zoomed in on the text. But you can't zoom in, because I don't want to put a picture of blood and guts on my blog. That stuff is yucky, and this isn't that type of blog.

Some of you may ask why I just spent a whole twenty minutes typing a story about how I thought for a split second that my sister killed my dog. Why is this worth your time? Why did you bother reading to the end? I'll tell you: Think what a good story it is now that she didn't actually die.  You just had all of the joy of reading a story of sibling rivalry, revenge, and animal cruelty- but nothing bad actually happened at the end so you don't have to feel sad. Louisa May Alcott wishes she had written this story!

*I know what the feud is over. I'm pretty sure it is about me. They both want to be the center of my attention and for me to take constant care of them. Yea, that's probably it.

**Because my dog is not only blind and deaf, but she wears a diaper. Only yesterday she didn't. 

***Somebody should give me an award for using the medical term instead of something juvenile. I could have used any number of words****, but I chose to stay above bathroom humor. 

****Words I could have used instead of "defecated", were I less mature: feces, stool, poop, doo doo, turd, mud cake, dookie, dump, deuce, load, butt mud... but I didn't use any of those. Yay me.

My sister finally killed my dog... but Maude lives on!

First and foremost, thank you for all of the wonderful birthday presents/texts/songs/and statements. Here are a few of my favorites in each category...

Sung Voicemails: 
1). 
(To the tune of "Call Me Maybe")
Hey Molly its Jill. And it is Sunday. And I am calling, to say Happy Birthday! I know you're 25, but don't you worry. It's a good age, so Happy Birthday!

2). 
Well here's a cheerful little ditty for you birthday:
Happy Birthday. Uh. Happy Birthday. Uh.  People dying everywhere, misery and dark despair but Happy Birthday. Uh.
And many happy returns.

Spoken Voicemails:
1).
Hey buttface I was just calling to say Happy Birthday. So, Happy Birthday.

2). 
Well I hope you have had a great birthday, if you chose to celebrate it. Because sometimes you like to pretend it didn't happen. If we are pretending, then ignore this message.

Texts: 
1.)
You did it! You were birthed, way to go.

2).
I'm texting you to say Happy Birthday even if you aren't celebrating again this year. Because not celebrating is dumb. I don't mean you're dumb, just some of the things you do and think. Hope this made your day a bit brighter. 


What great friends and family I have! I love/hate how my friends like to recognize that I don't like celebrating birthdays by calling me to talk about it.* The only thing missing was my annual text from Wham Bam with my face in a plate of bacon.**

There were a few not so great things about my birthday. Like how we left our first establishment and Sister had blood on her shirt that was definitely not hers.**** Or how some moron fell on the dance floor and got his adult beverage in my eye. Or how I got ridiculous flowers from some idiot I dated a few months back.*****

No matter though, my birthday was truly spectacular- I even got to see RY and his fabulous AY! Everything was going swimmingly until the next day when Sister killed Maude.This post has gotten a bit long though... I'll have write that story in the next installment!



*Not that I've ever been accused of being too dramatic, but I think my life ended after my 21st birthday. After all who was it that said "You're almost 16, you become 21, you turn 30, you push 40, you reach 50, you make it to 60". Aging is awful and I want no part in it. I've decided to stay 21 forever.

**He used to text it to me every birthday. I didn't get it this year and a piece of me died. (But a significantly smaller piece than the piece of me that dies seeing a picture of myself asleep in an IHOP booth at 3 am with my face in a plate of bacon)***

***Don't judge the things that happen after a long night of karaoke! 

****Guh-ross. I don't know that we'll ever know who's blood it is. I do know that she is surprisingly adept at getting blood out of her shirt in a bathroom. Makes you wonder how many bar fights she's been in!

*****I guess when I said "Never contact me again", I must have added in, "Unless it's to send me flowers on my birthday". I've gotta stop doing that!******

****** Seriously though, the card was signed "Star crossed love". I mean, it has been awhile since I read R&J, but I'm pretty sure they weren't together because of circumstances out of their control- not because one of them was married and the other one found out and peace'd out asap. Should I brush up on my Billy Shakespeare before I head back to school?

Because all 5 year olds love Sandi Patty

A beautiful quote from RY:

"When you don't blog, i ask myself "is her life reduced to utter boringness, such that she doesn't have anything to share, or is she just too busy for her fans, as she will be once she hits the big time?"

 

I usually choose the later, because I have all of the faith that cray cray stuff still happens, even when there is no one in the forest to hear the tree fall". 

Well put RY. It does happen, a lot of it. Sometimes there just isn't enough time to write down all of the crazy shtuff that happens in my life. Sometimes there aren't words to describe certain life events. And sometimes I am trying to reduce my online presence due to an online stalker. And sometimes I exaggerate. (But rarely, so very rarely).

I have every intention of writing how Kho walked in to find me squatting over Sister's face and rolling her back and forth on a foam noodle while singing Coldplay, but that's tomorrow's little gem. Today I plan on giving you, fair reader*, 3 snippets and vignettes to update the past few days.

1. The conversation between myself and That Woman 
Me: My voice teacher wants me to learn Carmen. I don't know that I can do it. I don't know that I can be seductive.
TW: Of course you can.
Me: I mean, I know I can be seductive, I'm just not sure if I can do it on stage. Oh crap, I just said that to my mother.

This was followed by a conversation about Doris Day singing "Bushel and a Peck", after which I had to hang up. I mean, there were just so many "Bushel and a Peck" jokes I was dying to make- and couldn't see myself making them to my mother! I can't make them on here either, since she reads this blog. Somebody please call me and bring up this song so I can share the slew of jokes I've conjured! 

2.  The hour and a half conversation I had with my bank customer service rep.*** During this phone call I learned the etymology of his name, how he thought he was Elvis in his former life, and how his dream is to work at Graceland- because he thinks that the Elvis inside him wants to return home. This phone call was only cut short because his supervisor got on the line and asked if I needed any further assistance. Did I need any further assistance? YES!!! I needed another hour to talk to this man and learn all of his fascinating crazy. Unfortunately, the call ended. (But now I can say that I met Elvis, which is pretty darn cool!)

3. My last concert as a teacher has become increasingly ridiculous due to my own whims. It started by assigning a class of fourth grade scholars a yodeling song. (In the name of world music, of course). It continued when I added instruments to the choir's song. (A washboard, musical spoons, a train whistle, slide whistles, and kazoos****). Now the concert will be further enhanced by the final song sung by all scholars. They are performing a piece by the one and only... Sandi Patty. Complete with sign language. Somebody stop me before I hurt myself. Or them.

Anywho, it's getting late and I have a big day of yodeling and washboarding to do, so I will see you all tomorrow for my own made for TLC rehab***** story. Get pumped.



*I say "fair reader" to presume you are fair as in impartial, not fair as in beautiful. I assume you are in fact partial, or you wouldn't be reading my blog. I can't, however assume you are beautiful. You could be rather homely and still be reading my blog. Or James Blunt could have written a song about you. I don't know and I don't really care**. You all have inner beauty, blah, blah, blah.

**I would care if James Blunt wrote a song about you. I really detest James Blunt.

***Due to the supposed fraudulent activity on my credit card. It wasn't fraudulent activity. It was spur of the moment online shopping in the middle of the night after watching too many infomercials. I feel slightly judged by Wells Fargo.

****I've said it before, the kazoo is my favorite instrument. Fun, silly, easy to play. All children and adults should on a kazoo.

*****Rehab as in for a back injury. How dare you think anything else!

An adventure without the "mis"- who knew?

RY is pressuring me to update my blog*, and I've been meaning to... but I've just been so darn busy! Many of you are itching to know what my life's been like for the past few days, and you should know that it has been absolutely fabulous. (No scary or embarrassing encounters, sorry to disappoint). I was invited to Hometown to sing in a concert with some of the most talented people I know, which was nerve-racking, thrilling, honoring, and humbling. It was great to see some of my Eastern friends again, and to hear the deep voice of Fearless Leader telling me to save my voice. I can't wait for the next opportunity to perform with this group again!

Events in the past four days:
Parties: 4 (maybe 5 if you count a late night of pizza and prosecco at a mansion, which I do. So 5) 
Concerts: 1 (unless you count singing at the parties, because then it would be 5.  But I don't. So 1)
Glasses of champagne: ???
Peking Ducks: 13 (all in one night, which is just pretty awesome)
Reviews in the Hometown Post: 1
New Friends: 1,000,000
Grad School Offers: 2

So yeah, it's been a pretty awesome weekend.

I promise to write more soon, but now I just want to curl up and listen to the rain and some Miles Davis- if ya know what I mean.***

*Because he's a pusher. He pushes people to do things.**
**Yep, awesome MG's mention. Someday somebody will be sorry for showing me that movie, because I pretty much live by it now!
***Which most of you don't. To those of you that do, well, it's true. Shame on me, I know.

I want an exclamation point in my name too!

Hidden away in a corner covered with trees in the Kroger parking lot near my house is a Souper! Salad* that nobody knows about. Or maybe some people know about it. I just stumbled into this delicious buffet and thought it was a secret. This Sunday I was too lazy to put real clothes after a long day of cleaning, so I threw on my favorite workout shorts (the ones with the built-in underwear**) and a t-shirt to run to the grocery store. It was then that I saw the fated Souper! Salad, filled to the brim with beautiful young men all in work out clothes like me! (Let's just disregard the fact that they were in workout clothes because they had just come from the 20 mile trail that ends right in the Souper! Salad's parking lot).

I should point out my love of salad bars. Yes, the food has been sitting there for hours. Yes, there are always way too many olives and not enough tomatoes. Yes, the bread is stale, the pepperoni is warm and the soup has scary objects in it. Yes, yes, yes. You can say whatever you want about them, but I love them. Maybe I love that I can make whatever I want without the prep work- cutting vegetables is boring, yo. Maybe I like that I can try something, decide I don't like it, get a new plate and try something else.  Maybe they remind me a little bit of college and that fabulous awkward freshmen year cafeteria. (Which at my performing arts college was always a little too reminiscent of FAME. I mean, do we have to break out into song at every moment? Do you really need to practice that dance lift in line for the taco bar? Do you really need to eat a taco just so you can barf it up later?) Whatever the reason(s), I love a good/bad/decent salad bar.

...

There's a lot more to this story, but I'm going to have to leave it as a cliffhanger. I'm too distracted by the battery warning on my computer. I'm pretty sure my computer is a woman, and she is most definitely surfing the red wave right now.*** One second she tells me that I have 55 minutes left to dilly-dally on the interwebs, the next I have three hours. This shouldn't be a big deal, but it is so distracting I find myself staring at the darn icon waiting to see what she will do next.

You think tv is interesting? You enjoy going out and spending time with friends? You like taking your dog to the park? That's cool, I don't judge. I like sitting and staring with utter fascination at my computer screen and waiting for the battery light to change.****



*Any place bold enough to put an exclamation point in the middle of their name must be amazing. This is common sense.

**If you don't have a pair of these- buy them now. They save time and effort; Save space in the laundry, they're uber comfortable, and it's half the hassle of real underwear. I wish all of my pants had built in underwear. And skirts, and dresses. Life would be so much simpler.

***Yea, I said that. If I am going to assign gender to random inanimate objects then I get to decide when they are on the rag.

****Oh goodness, I need more grad auditions to keep me occupied. I don't know what to do with my time now that I am free from the noose of auditions.*****

*****Yes I do. I have three new pieces to learn for a concert this Saturday. I should be learning music. My bad.

I might meet my husband on craigslist, and he might be a cannibal- you never know.

I love reading the "missed connections" on craigslist. It is one stop on the long track of diversions I use to keep myself from doing real work. (Along with #myfriendsaremarried, suri's burn book, and the bloggess)* I stop by and read posts by all of the pseudo-stalkers about the women they think they might be in love with that they saw a year and a half ago at a gas station... it cracks me up. These people are seriously crazy, and I like knowing I'm not the only one.

Usually I read a couple mc's and then continue on with my day, but today was different than all the rest. Today I found my own pseudo-stalker. Today some crazy wrote a missed connection about me. (Why can't I lead a normal life? Because then you would have nothing to read about, that's why).

If you read it you know they can literally only be talking about me. Diet coke, cookie dough and lean pockets? For heavens sake, those are the three staples of my well balanced diet!

I just got back from a lovely evening with the KinderGuru and my Work Wife. They shared their sordid dating tales of late, and I shared the above. Strangely enough, they have decided I should respond. What if I meet the love of my life from this craigslist post?*** What if we tell our grandchildren the story of how he contacted me and the world wide web helped us find one another?**** What if he kidnaps me and chops me into a million little pieces and serves me as a stew in a local soup kitchen?*****

In other news, I had my eyebrows threaded today. DON'T DO IT, it hurts worse than getting a tattoo. Eyebrows and a craigslist stalker- so yeah,  that about sums up my week.


*Truth be told I started writing this blog post an hour ago. I went to look at the list of websites I like to look at when I'm avoiding things and then all of the sudden an hour has gone by and I remembered that I had an actual thing to do. The internet is like one giant oubliette of information.**

**That makes sense in my head, but it probably doesn't in yours. Good thing this is my blog. So there.

***That's not going to happen.

****That's definitely not going to happen.

*****That could probably happen.