Inconvenient Accidents

Really, is there any other kind?

I don't know about you, but when I'm driving I occasionally think "I can not get in a car accident right now 'cause blank blank blank." They are not the most noble of reasons to not want to get in a car accident.

I'm on my way home, absolutely starving. I have Subway, Del Taco, Cafe Rio etc. (not all at once, let's not jump to conclusions) sitting on the front seat and I'm dying to get home to devour this meal. At this time, I think I do not want to get in a car accident 'cause I'm starving, and I don't want to be the fatty sitting on the side of the road eating Del Taco next to my smushed car while I wait for the PO-lice to show up.

I'm on my way to work, and I'm in a bit of a hurry 'cause I am late, as ever. The last place I would like to get into a car accident is right outside my work. Unfortunately, I know this from experience. I totaled my car pulling into my work parking lot. I had coworkers running out to stare help me. Luckily I was perfectly ok, and for some reason I made the brave decision to work the rest of the day. It was a long day of whispers, and endless questions, and "Hey, I heard you got into an accident this morning outside work." And the worst part was it was my fault, and so every time someone asked what happened I had to try to tell the story to make myself sound less like a retard. Unsuccessfully.

Whatever you do, do not get into an accident outside your work.

The other day I came to the realization that I tend to make funny faces at myself in the rearview mirror. Not entirely sure why I do this. It's not a vain thing, but perhaps more of a boredom thing. And if I'm bored during a five minute drive to work, then something must be wrong with me. I sure don't want to be the girl that got into an accident because I was cross-eyed with flared nostrils.

Occasionally I come across an accident, and it's sad. I hope that everyone is ok, and that no one is too terribly injured. And it's just human nature to enjoy staring at crumpled wreckage. I'm not too interested in getting in a car accident because I was staring at a car accident. Although, having emergency vehicles right there would be convenient.

Am I the only one who has ever had thoughts like these?

MyFavorite Etsy in the Entire United States of America

So, Talk2theTrees is having a giveaway. And it's a pretty fantastic one.

I recommend that you enter it. A couple times. I sure am.

I hope I win 'cause I sure could use a new feather headband or delicious hat and I'm too poor to fork over the cash myself.

But for realsies, I won't begrudge the competition if you enter. . .

On a completely different note . . . I finally got new earbuds, and I must say that not being electrocuted whilst I listen to a happenin' beat is pretty fantasic. I also indulged in tearing my old pooey earbuds into little peices. Little tiny pieces that will no longer be able to shock another soul again.

I still hate you SkullCandy, and if you're wondering, my new earphones are not your brand.

Old People

Gosh, ya gotta love old people. What I like best about old people is their vocabulary.


Have you ever notice that old people tend to say "terrible" a lot when they hear of something bad? But they pronounce it "turable". Hey, did you hear about the man that went to jail for blank blank blank? "Oh, that is juuust turable!" I love it.

They also like to say "Bless their heart".

"Mr. Johnson came and shoveled the snow on my walk today, bless his heart."

"Oh dear me, Barbara has gone and broken her hip, bless her heart!"

"Those kids down the street were causing such a raucous! . . . . Bless their little hearts."

Old people have also discovered the luxury of being able to say whatever they want about dead people, as long as they say "May they rest in peace" and other variations after.

"Billy was a little rough around the edges, and he had turable breath! God rest his soul."

"I hear Jane had an affair with just about everybody! May she rest in peace."

The other day me and my sister told my grandma that we use "whore" as a term of endearment for each other. She said "Don't do that, it's a bad word!" I never thought of it as a bad word. Derogatory? Sure. Turable occupation? Without a doubt. But, never classified as bad, like a swear word. But then again my grandma is the most genuinely sweet person I've ever met. She had a neighbor who had a big ol' massive tree that was growing right on their property line, and grandma hates the tree 'cause its huge, ugly and she has to take care of all the leaves coming off of it. We were joking about how we were going to poison the tree and then pull it out in the nighttime. Grandma laughed and said just don't tell her anything about it so when neighbor lady asks her if she knows what happened she wouldn't be lying when she said no.

Bless her heart.

Gagag, I Mean Gaga

If I ever find myself walking alone down an alleyway, the last person I would like to encounter is Lady Gaga. She(?) scares the poo out me. She makes my childhood nightmares seem downright jovial in comparison.

But there are a lot of people that absolutely love her, that would love to be close to her and to get to sit next to her during an awards show.

But I wonder how this guy really feels:

Chillax, Motivation!

Last week I was taking it easy and reading a book when Jordan came in. Our conversation went as follows:


Jordan: "What did you say?"

Bre: "I didn't say anything."

Jordan: "Yeah, you did. You said something and then I said 'what?' and then you said 'nothing!'"

Bre: "No, I've been sitting here reading, I haven't said a thing."

Jordan: "No, I heard you, you said something like 'Chillax, motivation!' like it was a song or a rap."

Bre: "I have never uttered the word 'Chillax' in my life, I would know if I suddenly said it."

This went on for quite a while, him insisting I said "Chillax, motivation!" and me insisting that I have been reading and haven't said jack. All the while I was trying to figure out which one of us has lost their mind. Finally Jordan says:

"No, I was in the bathroom, and you were in the bedroom, and then you went into the office saying 'chillax, motivation!"

It took me a sometime to think about this, the last time he was in the bathroom was about 20 minutes (dare I go as far as to say maybe 25 minutes?) ago. He made it sound like I had just said this fabled phrase and he came asking what I had said.

I had to think of what I was doing way back then and what I could possibly have said, 'cause I was 98% confident it wasn't "Chillax, motivation!".

Then it came to me.

The cats had pried a dresser drawer open and had gotten stuck behind the drawers. Kea squeezed out, but Kloe is a little more, shall we say robust. Because the drawers don't come out, and I couldn't pull Kloe out without squishing her I invested some time in trying to coax her out, to no avail. I did, however make enough time to take a picture:

Note the scratches on the drawers to the right, where Kea has pried the drawer open. Thanks, cat.

Finally, I decided to entice her out with a treat. Thinking aloud I said "She lacks motivation" and went into the office to find a treat. It worked like a charm, she crawled out of there faster than a crack addict crawling to their dealer.

Little did I know I would be having the most peculiar conversation 20-25 mins later. The moral of the story is: "If you want to know what someone said, it probably best to ask right away."

My Hero Behind the Lens

I watched Summit on the Summit last night. The show was about some actors and musicians who climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro to raise awareness of the clean water crisis, and the fact that there are so many people that are drinking and dying from contaminated water, and don't have access to clean water.

Honestly, the only people I knew from the expedition was Jessica Biel and Emil Hirsch. It showed the grueling trek, and how difficult the terrain was, the air quality and the cold. And while I don't want to demean their feat, 'cause I can't even imagine how difficult it was, but why are we applauding Jessica Biel? The real hero is the camera man, 'cause he didn't just climb Kilimanjaro, but he did it with a camera on his shoulder and looking through the lens. While everyone relied on walking poles and heavy breathing to get as much oxygen as possible, this guy (and/or girl) had to walk steady and keep his breathing quiet.

That's the person I think should get all the credit.

On Man Vs. Wild Bear Grylls is a crazy awesome man; scaling cliffs, jumping into rapids, trekking across swamps. However, his camera man is the one that is doing all the same stuff, but with the camera, and all of his focus and attention on Bear, and not where his own feet are stepping. That's pretty impressive stuff. That's the guy that should have the show.

You're my hero, extreme camera man.

And as a side note, according to the Summit on the Summit project, 1 cent donated can buy 1 liter of clean water for a child. So I'm wondering how much their expedition cost; for plane tickets, hotels, crew, equipment, guides, food & water, etc. If they're trying to help the clean water crises, they could have done a whole lot of good to just take the money they would have used on the climb and buy the water, and then write a really tender song about it and make a commercial requesting donations to raise awareness. Or I bet they could have just bought a water filtration system for a lucky village in Africa.

But, climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro was a good idea, too.

Thoughts of a 17 Year Old Bre

When I was in high school I worked at a call center. This place conducted market research, i.e. we called homes and did surveys on various products. The main project I worked on was Bank of America mortgages. This was the kind of job where you check your brain at the door, and I sure did. I could go on autopilot and not pay attention to what I was saying or doing.
During this time I had little pieces of paper I would doodle on. I started to write whatever came to mind, and then fold them into paper cranes, and then I would just stick them in my car's cup holder after work. After a while I had a cup holder full of paper cranes so I brought them inside and eventually they got packed away. I found them a couple weeks ago. Let's see what was on my mind at the age of 17:

Hi! My name is Bre, and I am one bored monkey! In fact, if terms of monkeys, I'm probably one of those monkeys with the droopy red face and the fur sticking out in all directions. I most likely have several different kinds of fruit in my fur and all over my face, and I've probably got the skin or a small seed stuck very visible in my teeth, and some sort of booger trailing from my huge and wide monkey nostrils. I want to get a pet spider monkey! How cool would that be? I could name him Spidey, and he could wear a diaper, or better yet- I could teach him how to flush the toilet. He could wear a little red vest and just be the cutest, funniest, coolest dang monkey you've ever laid eyes on! Yeah!

Until he mauled my face off, of course. I sure had a healthy imagination.

When I grow up I want to be a fuzzy octopus. Have you ever seen a fuzzy octopus? NO! And I will be the first! Don't you think that octopi could be oh so cute if they just had a wee bit of fur on them? Yes indeed. I will sit at the bottom of the ocean, and lure scuba divers down to me because they will think I am soooo cute and I will five them puppy dog eyes and when they pet me I will snatch them , drag them down to my lair where I will devour them.

That still is my dream.

The problem with prejudice and segregation is that it's spreading when we think that it's actually doing better. But, the thing is we're not just keeping it amongst ourselves, but we're also spreading it to the animal world. Oh, yeah. We've named them "African Bullfrog" and "American Bullfrog", and then, if it's got spots, then automatically it turns into the "Spotted African Bullfrog"! Just 'cause it's got spots. How are we supposed to teach the children of the world equality when we're showing them two similar frogs and saying they're different because they came from different places, and one's jaw is slightly larger than the other.

Note: I haven't a clue if there really is a difference in jaw size between said bullfrogs. In fact, I was curious to see how naive 17 yr old Bre was, and 25 yr old Bre assumes they have different names 'cause they are different, such as the African and Asian elephant. Yeah, turns out I was right, and I found the following:


"there completely different species,

with the exception they both have bullfrog in there names and there both agressive ambush feeders they have very little in common."


Which begs the question, how could someone who supposedly knows so much about bullfrogs not know the difference between there, their & they're?

Oh, and perhaps I should explain that in no way was I serious in any of my yester-year ramblings. More specifically, I'm not concerned of an Animal Kingdom KKK coming into creation.

The Room of Enlightenment

Every house has a Room of Enlightenment. It's true, you have one as well. Great thoughts occur in this room, pearls of widom are realized and life's problems seem clearer.
This room, (wait for it) is your bathroom.

How many times have you heard, "There I was, brushing my teeth- and then it came to me!"? Some of my most brilliant ideas come spacing out while brushing my teeth, doing my hair & makeup, showering etc.

This morning I was showering and thinking about the Oscars last night and on those honored writers, who all said that they never expected their dream to bring them to winning an Oscar. Sure, they had a dream, but they were also given the opportunity by others to bring their dream to fruition. It was betwixt lathering, staring into the abyss of my shower, and rinsing that the thought occurred to me. . . Opportunities are created by bold acts.

And I'm sure a whole heap of self-confidence.

Ever since I can remember I have wanted to be a writer. In 1st grade we were supposed to write a story that took up one whole page. Sure, this page was those hugely spaced lines created to help with handwriting, so each page really has about five lines. Everyone struggled to think of a story that would take the entire page, and I wrote a story that took up four pages. Wowzers, that was like a whole 20 sentences!

Nowadays I see all sorts of books that are big sellers, but the writing is sub-par. I'm talking to you, Stephanie Meyer. Apparently you just have to have a great idea, and it doesn't matter if you can write or not.

That gives me hope. If this author and that author can get published with low quality writing, then gosh dang it- So can I!'

I just need a really good idea . . .

Granted, I'm still on the high of my new-found determination, and said determination won't last through the end of the work day, but shoot- right now I'm going to close my eyes and pretend I'm on the NY Bestsellers list. And maybe, just maybe, that will happen. For now, I think my "bold act" will just have to be to believe in myself, and to take a little action.

You Can Call Me The Cake Boss

I'm not exactly the most creative person on the planet. I'm not a great cook, and I certainly don't bake that often. However, for some unknown reason, I have been itching to make a cake, and have wanted to try and make fondant.

Peculiar hankering, I know.

My sister also has had such an urge, so we planned to make a cake together and give it a go as a team. But heaven knows neither of us needed or wanted a whole cake, so we needed an occasion to make this fabled cake. Jordan's family was having a b-day party for my bro-in-law's girlfriend, so I volunteered to make the cake.

I made the cakes (the two layers) the day before we were going to decorate it, to ensure they would be cooled enough to decorate, as I wouldn't have enough time after work to make them, wait for them to cool and then decorate.

It was a nightmare. I'm not kidding, I was frazzled. (Am I allowed to use the word "frazzled" while under 60 yrs of age?) I put them on the center rack of the oven to ensure maximum cooking. When I went to pull them out they had raised up into the top rack. Fantastic, but not a huge deal since I was planning on carving the top off to make it rounded anyway. I pull them out and let them cool before trying to take them out of the pan. Then, I tipped the first one out of the pan. It fell apart into a ridiculous pile of crumbs, while half stayed stuck to the pan. Annoyed, I let the second pan cool further, and took a knife to the edges to make sure it was loosed up. Not that it mattered 'cause that stuck to the pan too.

Not one to let a cake get the best of me, I hurried and washed the pans, and floured the poo out of them, determined that this time those bleepity bleep cakes are coming out of the pans clean. I whipped up another batch, put them on the top rack, thank you very much, and waited (dramatic pause) with much trepidation.

They came out the most gorgeous cakes you have ever seen. And I experienced an exultation only Mohammed Ali, newly elected presidents and transplant recipients could share in.

The next part is less exciting, mostly 'cause it went so well. My sis came over and we decorated the living daylights out of that cake. We tag teamed making the frosting and fondant, which was surprisingly easy on both counts. Although we had an issue with the fondant sticking to the counter.

But hey, a picture's worth a thousand words, right? So here's my first attempt at making a cake:

Adorable, yes?

Well, Shoot

I just had the rain/sleet/snow, (or whatever it is that's trying to happen out there) blamed on me.

Apparently I spoke too soon about spring.

But, like I said, it'll probably snow again, but that's good for us anyway since, oh, I dunno, water is the life source of um, everything.

Oh, Hey There Sunshine!

Playin' Scrabble;

Jordan: "OX? You had an "x" and you used it to make ox?!"

Bre: "I put it on a triple letter."

Jordan: "That's pretty good, actually. Too bad ox has an "e" on the end!"


I pulled into work yesterday and got a little giddy. That's not a normal reaction for me. Usually it's a battle to keep my eyes open and stay on my feet. Usually I'm annoyed with myself 'cause I'm late. Usually I'm less than excited about the next eight hours of my life. Usually I'm already wondering what I'm going to do for lunch.

But, the sun was shining, and there was a lawn care truck pulling in after me. Could it be? Lawn care? That was my first sign of spring.

I usually get excited for the next season to be ushered in. I'm excited for winter, then when I'm good on seeing everything dead I get excited for spring and having the world green again, then for summer and the heat, and then fall & the colors and right back into winter with skiing and holidays.

I'm ready for spring. I'm ready for life to be brought back into the world. I'd like to see flowers and green trees. Today I saw a bug. Normally I'm not a proponent for flies, but seeing a little black fly was strangely refreshing.

I'm sure it will probably snow again, and that's well and good, but seeing small signs of life and a new season creeping up on us was a nice change.

Letters

My, my. The past couple of weeks have been crazy. I am behind on my correspondence. Do you mind if I catch up?

Dear America,

Hey, it's Bre. Just dropping a note to say I think you're really swell. No, I mean that. I watched you at the Olympics, and I have to say I'm really impressed. You did great and performed at a top-notch level. You broke some records, had some incredible victories, and demonstrated to the rest of the world of your kick-buttedness.

I know you feel bad about the hockey thing. Hey, silver is nothing to frown on, you did great and gave it a good fight. I'm proud of you, America.

Much love,

Bre


*******

Dear Heidi Montag,

You are ridiculous. I don't even know why you're in the public eye at all. Please fade into the background already.

I appreciate it.

Regards,

Bre


********

Dear Snookie,

I'm sorry, who are you?

In all seriousness,

Bre


*******

Dear coworker sitting to the left of me,

I trust all is going well on your side of the wall. You know how you like to burp all the time? Funny story about that, I used to enjoy burping a lot too! I prided myself on being able to produce epic belches. I was in junior high, though.

I'm not sure if you are, in an abnormally weird round about way, trying to impress the new boss, or if you genuinly have some sort of intestinal issue or if the majority your diet is air intensive products, but you're in a professional environment, and I'd love to not hear your burps. If you could at least work on that, I would be grateful. And I mean that in the nicest way you could possibly ask someone to not burp all day long.

Your coworker,

BreAnn


*******

To my coworker sitting to the right of me,

Hey there. Just wanted to let you know you work really hard and are never recognized for your hard work. That's unfortunate. Consider this a small bit of recognition. Oh, and thanks for entertaining me. High five.

You're still a whore.

Love,

Trigger


*******

Dear dogs,

I have taken you into my home and you have wanted for nothing. In return you provide me with affection and I really appreciate that. I think this relationship has been working out really well. Except, there is a matter that needs addressing.

Please consider this an official write-up. I don't like to do this, and I want to give you the benefit of doubt, however I have given you multiple verbal warnings, and I have not seen any improvement.

Dismissing admonishments, you continue to bark with absolute intensity when the doorbell is rung, if anyone enters our house or even passes by the window. This is inexcusable.

You are now on probation, and if this probation is violated it could have adverse results up to and including calling Cesar Milan to our house. And he will teach Jordan to not give you table scraps. I think we both know you're not interested in seeing that happen.

Sincerely,

Bre

*******

Phew, what a relief it is to have all that out of the way so I can continue along my day!