Monster on the Top Bunk

I woke to the sound of the third floorboard from the bed groaning its displeasure for being distrubed before first light.  Deep in winter, it would remain surly till well past 9:00.  A whiff of iron, terror, and sweat crinkled my nose.  I threw the deflated feather pillow I had been drooling on over my eyes in protest.

“Morning, Wendi.” came my grunted salutation.

With a Little Help From Your Friends

It's May 25th; Memorial day, and my long weekend it just starting.  Well, starting in earnest you could say.  I handed off my albatross this morning.  At 8:00, I passed the on call phone to the next coworker in the rotation.  With that, my week of waiting for Godot is over.  Thankfully, this was my first quiet rotation, only having one true emergency come up that required intervention on my part. Past experiences though had me caught in the middle of a situation that I was powerless to either solve, or avoid being the middle man.  I often go into the Monday of taking over the responsibility of being Grand Central Station for 7 days with an overwhelming sense of dread, waiting for the other shoe to drop.   I don't sleep well, my temper gets shorter, and I end up carrying all that stress in unhealthy ways.  One of which is carrying it in my back and shoulders.  I had started to think it would be a good idea for me to take half-days at work on the Monday following.  This time, as luck would have it, the office is closed and I got my extra time to recover as a freebie.  I also had the opportunity to cross paths with an opportunity I think I would be crazy to turn down.

1 Order of Wedded Bliss. Please Drive Though.

"I now pronounce you, man and wife.  You may kiss your bride.  Well, if you can get around that gear shift with the commemorative NASCAR shifter there."

The gal in the hand me down wedding dress squealed and lunged across the front bench seats in her new husband's "chariot", knocking it out of gear.  They lurched forward, narrowly avoiding rolling into traffic.  The kid in the ill-fitting tuxedo with the stain on the shirt swore, pushed her off him, and threw the shifter into reverse.  He stopped an inch shy of the bumper on the car pulling in to take their place at the drive through window.  His answer to the resulting honk was a defiant middle finger out the driver's side window.  

After he engaged the brake and took the shambling car out of gear, he smoothed his vest and put a little more brylcreem on his comb to hold down his slicked back hair.  His new wife shot back across the seats to give his tonsils a tongue bath, messily smearing her lipstick across his teeth.  She had the back of his head in her hands, holding on as if he was the last source of oxygen on the planet.

That's when the officiant noticed her wedding band.  Or, what passed as one as it was a nail twisted into a crude circle.  

Chocolate Chip Cookies for the Culinary Inept

Chocolate Chip Cookies, not apple pie, are the most American cause of diabetes ever.  If you don’t like them then the terrorists win.  Every good, red blooded American should be able to whip up a batch.  If you’re not exactly the Julia Childs of your apartment block, don’t worry.  It’s easy to learn by starting with the basics.  Cookies, being the caloric music to soothe a savage PMSing girlfriend, are a noble specimen on which to cut your teeth in the kitchen.  Baking is simple, really.  In this case, all you need is a mix (Betty Crocker has one that’s no mess, no fuss.), any additional ingredients such as an egg or butter, a mixing bowl, a cookie sheet, spatula, spoon, cooking spray, fire extinguisher, and the local emergency services on speed dial.  See?  It’s not that daunting.

Vampire in the Passenger's Seat

The smell of him hung in the air like the last stitch of clothing in the dance of the 7 veils.  His gothic charms working their serpentine spell on her.  She could barely sit still, wanting only to crawl in his lap, entwine her fingers in those wavy dark locks, drink in the cold aloofness in his umber eyes, and commit suicide by drowning in the scent of his skin.  Sandalwood, tobacco, cloves, and the essence of rich earth wound their way through her thoughts as if they were her fingers in his hair while they sat, shoulders touching, trying to concentrate on community theater.

Tastebud Massacre - Spring Break Saison

Author's note:  I have been holding on to this for a while, not sure if I should publish it or not.  I finally decided it was worth it to share for a good giggle.  We're lucky (heh) to have this brewery in our backyards, and hopefully they can take a little ribbing from a beer fan.

Dear Lucky Bucket Brewing Company,

I love you, man.  I do.  I think the fact that you’re practically in my backyard is awesome.  You done made me proud on more than one occasion.  But, we have got to talk about this seasonal brew of yours.  The Spring Break Belgian style saison was more of a letdown than the IRS declining to investigate Amy’s Baking Company for tax fraud.  

My Coffee Smells Like Beauty

Yesterday, a couple of neighborhood facts walked up to me and sucker punched me right in the feels.  My "feels" are buried under so much scar tissue and thickened skin, I didn't expect it to hurt.  Boy, I was wrong.  The perp of this heinous act of wanton emotional endangerment and assault with a dangerous idea was Dove.  You know, the people that make the soap and beauty products.  

Since September of 2004, they've been running what they call The Campaign For Real Beauty.  At the time, only 2% of women described themselves as beautiful, and Dove was afraid that what we stressed as such was becoming "limiting and unattainable".  They've made a real effort to change the idea of what beauty is.  I want very badly to think they're succeeding.  Their most recent campaign was enough to convince me that it seems to only be working on a superficial level.  It would seem that the idea of beauty is being more widely accepted in other people.  But, when it comes to embracing our own beauty, we still doubt ourselves.  Apparently, Dove wanted to do something about that too.  That's why they came up with their commercial entitled "Sketches".  It was a real moment to wake up and smell the coffee.  And the coffee smelled like beauty.

Biological Scavenger Hunt

A friend of mine posted an image today asking to help an elderly woman find her grandson, who was adopted.  It got me thinking, do you think it's possible to crowd-source this sort of thing?  And then slowly, I started to think it can't hurt to try.  I have always known I was adopted.  I've also never held out hope to learn much about my roots, so it's never been important for me to find them.  I'm also a worry wort, so to know any potential hereditary conditions also is a sort of boon.  Less for me to worry about in advance.  But, the older I get, the more I love hearing stories others collect throughout their lives.  There's a part of me that wants to hear my biological mom's, and anybody else's that I can find along the way.  So, here goes.

Heartfelt Thank You to Walgreens

Dear Walgreens,

I wanted to tell you about the outstanding service I recieved with my last contact with one of your pharmacies.  Six days ago, I had a prescription for a new antidepressant called in to the location where I generally get all of my presciptions filled.  I got an email saying that the pharmacy had gotten my medication, but my insurance company wasn’t going to cover it.  I could pick it up, but would be responsible for the retail price.  I called to follow up and find out if there was something I needed to do.  It was late in the day on Friday, and as it would happen, my insurance company required a letter from my doctor as to why I was changing medications.  When I asked what I could do, I was told that I’d have to wait for the doctor and insurance companies to complete their parts.  In effect, my hands were tied.

DIY Cards Against Humanity

The Samurai of Spoken Word have an event coming up where we're going to be playing a party game called Cards Against Humanity team trivia style.  I'm excited for several reasons.  First of all, it's going to be a hoot juut because the game rocks.  (It's best described as Apples to Apples for people going to hell.)  But, I also get to use my own home made deck AND be the MC for the night.  I can't wait for the 28th.