I'm a Reader

Ever since I can remember I have been fascinated by books and the stories they tell.  Like most kids I loved good ol' Dr. Seuss, and particularly obsessed with Go Dogs Go.  I would want to have it read to me over and over, and when nobody was there to read it I would just turn the pages and look at the pictures and try to remember what the words said.  I wanted to read it myself so desperately that I memorized it.  Word for word.  I remember going to my friends house and reading it out loud to show off how I was such an awesome reader, but really I just knew the book by heart.

In third grade we had to take a reading aptitude test, to see what reading level we were on.  I had a 12th grade reading level.  I wasn't some prodigy, I just loved to read so much that I keep getting bigger and bigger books.

Growing up I would go to bed and read until my parents came and turned the light out.  But because they were in the habit of leaving the hall light on, I would lay in the doorway of my room and ready by the light of the hall.  Until I saw feet stop in front of me, and I would look up to an angry mother saying that I am going to ruin my eyes if I read by that light.  I didn't care, I wanted to read so I would go back to bed only to return after she had left.

My mom even tried to ground me from books.  She said I read too much and encouraged me to do something else, even if it meant watching TV.  Normally I don't ignore being grounded, but I decided that you can't really be grounded from reading, that was like being grounded from homework, and it wasn't in a parents jurisdiction to do that.  So I read on.

In 6th grade my teacher had a contest at the beginning of the year to see who could read the most.  We each had a name on a posterboard and for every 100 pages we read we got a sticker, and I had stickers that went all the way across the poster board and then my teacher had to start putting stickers on top of stickers until there were five stickers stacked up on top of each other.  During that school year I read Jurassic Park & The Lost World because I was determined not to read kids' books.

In 7th grade I started reading Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series, which is famous for being super thick.  Normally I would carry books in my backpack at school, but I carried these by hand not only because their thickness made it easy for the binding to fall apart, but because I thoroughly enjoyed people's eyes bugging out as they passed me in the hall.

I don't say this to brag, but now my eyes are horrible, and I find myself desperately trying to put down my book so I can do something productive around the house.  I have Kindle on my iphone, which has been the best and worst thing for me 'cause here I sit at work, with my phone between me and my keyboard and it's virtually impossible to tear my eyes away so I can work.

Thanks to insomnia I lie awake at night reading away on my Kindle and I hear my mom's voice saying "You'll ruin your eyes." And I can't help but think, she was right to try and ground me from books.

People, I Can't Stand Ya

Lately I have been losing my patience with people.  More and more I get annoyed with the stupid things that people say. 

The other day this lady was telling a "funny story" of how she hit a big ol' chicken with her car, and she wanted to get a picture of the bird to show people the bird she hit, but the bird flew off. So she giggled as she followed the blood trail which went behind a gate, where a man was standing and she asked the man if he saw a chicken come that way.  And he said yeah, that was my chicken and she's dead.  She asked if she could get a picture of it, and he said no, she asked again and he still said no.  She was annoyed that he wouldn't let her take a picture of his dead bird, and said that the guy seemed really ornery. 

You think?  You killed his bird, it probably had a name and everything.  She also bragged about how nice she was that she didn't make the guy pay for her broken mirror.  Then she complained that it was a bad day 'cause so many people teased her about hitting the bird.  I'm pretty sure the chicken had a worse day.  How the fuddilymudd was that a funny story? I wanted to cry for the poor bird.

Why do pregnant ladies feel so entitled?  Every Thursday my company provides breakfast.  One lady was spreading cream cheese on her bagel and another guy who was waiting to use it after her noticed that it was fat free, and said so.  The lady said, "Are you calling me fat?!  I'm pregnant, and you shouldn't call pregnant ladies names, 'cause then you'll get beaten up by their husbands, and my husband has a gun."

Alrighty.  Where to start?

1.  She was probably like 6 weeks preggo 'cause she wasn't showing in the slightest.
2.  She was skinny to begin with.
3.  I'm pretty sure you shouldn't call anyone names, regardless if they are expecting or not.
4.  Noticing that the cream cheese you're using doesn't constitute as calling you fat, but obviously you're quite insecure.
5.  Really, you jumped straight to your husband having a gun?  Even if he was calling you fat, really- a gun?

Moving on.. .

Have you ever heard of the backdoor compliment?  It's when a person degrades themselves, but manages to still give themselves a compliment at the same time.  Example:  "I would be terrible at a fist fight because I'm so small and petite."

These bug me so bad.  Those and the people that just put themselves down completely, like call themselves fat, just so someone will come back and say no you're not, you're gorgeous.  Every time someone does that I wanna come back with, "Hmm, you are kinda portly, aren't you?  I didn't notice until you brought it to my attention."

A couple weeks ago we Redboxed The Day the Earth Stood Still, and it's about an alien (Keanu Reeves) who comes to save Earth, and it turns out that he's actually saving Earth from people by killing all the people so the Earth can survive.  Throughout the movie the main character (nasty Jennifer Connelly) is trying to convince him to let the people live and that we can change.  I found myself rooting for the alien, 'cause really I doubt that the human race is capable of changing, and I feel that Earth would be better without us.

I know you think I'm just a mean person.  But you all have people in your life you just can't stand, and there are strangers you see where you can't help but roll your eyes and avoid eye contact hoping they don't try to strike up a conversation.  I'm just more open about it.

Twice As Nice OR Double Trouble?

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have a second me.  Not a twin, but a whole other Bre.  She looks just like me, she talks like me, she is me. 

I wonder if we would live together, or if I would prefer that she live somewhere else.  What if she tried to hit on my husband?  Would he technically be her husband as well?  I think not.  I don't want to share my husband with even another me.

She would probably resent me.  Of course the only real benefit to have a double is that she can go to work while I can be having adventures.  Would she be mad that she is working, cooking and cleaning while I enjoy life with Jordan and the pets?  Or would she just accept that's her role, and her sole purpose for existing?

She would be an excellent employee, I'm sure.  She would be on time and very proactive.  I think she would do a better job than I would do. 

But do I really want a fake Bre encroaching into my life?  Joking with my friends, and talking to my coworkers?  I have a feeling she would get on my nerves.  She's not as funny as she thinks she is, ya know.  Sometimes she can be a tad too sarcastic, and tends to say some stupid things.  I would be jealous that she is living a whole life that I'm missing out on, even if it's the less appealing aspects of life.

Ya know, I think I want to live 100% of my life after all!  Haw dare this other Bre think she could be as good of a Bre as the original?!  I've got Bre on lockdown.

Sorry Bre #2, but the position has already been filled.  Please come back when I have kids.

Bre Minus Automobile

The Thursday before last Jordan, Maggie and I went to the zoo.  I've been wanting to post about this, but haven't gotten the pictures on my computer yet, so post pending.  But, this post is about the adventure after the zoo.   As we were leaving the zoo my car broke down, and I was fairly sure it was my transmission.  "Bre, how would you know the symptoms of a broken transmission?" You may be asking.  I will tell you . . . My transmission broke down a mere two months ago.  I paid a hefty price to have it completely rebuilt, and for it to break down again is frustrating to say the least. 

This car of mine has been in the shop for almost two weeks, and my anger about the situation rises with every passing day.  I don't care if I'm not charged (I really do care- I better not be charged) it's the mere fact that I'm inconvenienced at all that really upsets me.

I'm a fairly independent woman.  I like to do things myself, and I'm not a fan of asking for help, or accepting it.  It's the stubborn streak in me.  And I like to drive.  But, for the past week & 4 days, I have had to rely on others to take me places, and it blows. 

However, I've learned that there are certain advantages to me having no car.  For example, for some unknown reason, it appears the job of returning the Redbox had been bequeathed to me.  I don't know how that happened, it just did.  It's not my favorite chore.

"Jordan!  I'm going to return the Redbox, be right back!  Oh, wait!  I don't have a car, you'll have to return the Redbox!"

Mighty convenient.  (Shhh, don't remind him that I could have just taken his car)

My mom is such a doll.  She has called me several times to ask if I need a ride here or there.  She also asked me how I was getting to and from work, and I said Jordan was dropping me off, and then picking me up again.  This particular arrangement was a pain cause our schedules are not exact, and he usually drops me off late and picks me up early.  She said I was ridiculous not to ask my dad, since he works in the same building, at the same time.  I said I didn't want to inconvenience him to have to pick me up and drop me off out of his way.  She said I was retarded, but without actually using that word, and in more of a loving motherly sort of way.

So my peach of a dad has been taking me to and from work.

I gotta be honest. . . I'm getting kind of used to being chauffeured around.  It's starting to grow on me, and frankly, it's a little nice.  And although I'm still very much annoyed my car broke down in the first place, and I still hate to be a bother to anyone, I'm appreciating the simplicity of life without a car.

The Kitty We Should Have Named 'Dastard'

Saturday night I went to bed excited to sleep in.  But alas, Sunday morning I was woken at 9am to the sound of my dogs barking.  Not just barking, but howling.  I looked over at Jordan and he was gone.  Curiosity piqued, I got out of bed and found Jordan in the dining room with his entire head stuck through the slats of the blinds.  Curiosity of course escalated as many questions filled my head, such as:  Why doesn't he just peek through the blinds, pull them up, peek around the side.  But these questions were not answered 'cause he said something even more peculiar than his methods of looking out the window.  "Kea is out there."  Kea is our cat, if you didn't know.  And our cats are strictly inside cats, and for good reason.  I was confused.  Jordan then explained that he heard a loud noise, and then another loud noise, and went to investigate and there I found him staring out the window.  We soon figured out that the first noise was Kea somehow opening the cracked window wider, and the second was her clawing through the screen on the window and squeezing through.

Jordan hurried and ran out to get her and I ran to get my glasses so I could actually see and in the small minute time frame she had vanished.  We looked all over our neighborhood for the next hour, we looked up trees, under cars, in bushes and nothing.  We took the puppies out hoping they would smell her, we even brought Kloe out to see if she could locate her sister. Nothing.  I must have walked over the the area 20 times.  It didn't make sense, we kept saying, it's so unlike her.  Usually when they get out they stay close but we couldn't find her, and we were horrified to think how far away she could possibly get with each minute. 

I posted on Facebook that my cat had run off, hoping that randomly someone might see her and let me know.  My friend Maggie saw the post and called saying she was on her way to help with the search.  She came right as I was about to lose it completely and said that in this heat she probably wasn't running around, but was most likely hunkered down in the shade somewhere.  This statement made perfect sense and was ridiculously calming.  We continued our search, and walked all over the condo complex several more times, hoping that she was close.  Maggie walked around with a cat toy and dangled it in front of bushes hoping to entice her out, Jordan walked around with a broom and wacked the bushed hoping to scare her out, and I walked around with cat treats hoping to appeal to her tummy.  Nothing.  At this point we had to consider she got farther away and expanded our search. 

I took the car out and drove around for a while.  And, nothing.  When I got back I felt unbelievably discouraged and pretty much broke down.  My cat was gone, and I was never going to see her again.  Maggie suggested that we look in the backyards closest to our complex.  Which we did, and was followed by a weird man talking about his pit bulls, and learned of the drug deals that happen in the area at night, also my weird pit bull man.  No Kea in random people's backyards. 

We went back home and made posters to hang, and I emailed all the shelters in the area asking them to let us know if a cat by her description came in.  By this time it was 4:30 and we were starting to think that if she was holed up somewhere she wouldn't come out until it was cooler, but decided to go out walking again and just sit and wait until she comes home.  We did a thorough search of the complex and Maggie started climbing into and behind all the bushes and really giving them a good look.  One particular hedge she kept saying that it was really thick and dark, and would be the perfect place for her to hide.  Maggie continued her search and crawled into the very last bush in the entire complex, and shouted that she found her.  I thought I was hearing things, and ran over.  I called out to Jordan who was about to go out and put more posters up and he came running around the corner just as Maggie pulled her out of the bush.  After a long hot day of hiding in that dang bush we walked past a million times she didn't even protest when I wrapped my arms tightly around her and smothered her.  She was not escaping my grasp.  I can't even describe the relief I felt.

We determined she was too scared to come out when we called her and wacked the bushes.  And this is why her name should have been Dastard. 

das·tard

–noun
1.a mean, sneaking coward.

–adjective
2.of or befitting a dastard; mean, sneaky, and cowardly.

Sometimes I get in trouble.

Generally Jordan doesn’t read my blog. This works to my benefit because not always do I write about him in the most flattering of light. See this post. For the most part he only reads it if I pull it up on my phone and slap it in front of his face.

Yesterday I came home from work and the first thing he said was, “You are in so much trouble.”

Uh oh. I thought, He read the blog. “Um, what did I do?”

“I read a little something online.”

Yeah, he definitely read the blog. “It was a little funny though, right?”

“You are in so much trouble.”

“’Cause it’s funny, right?”

I don’t think he thought it was funny. That’s ok ‘cause I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I encouraged him to look at the comments.

“Comments? There are comments?” (Hee hee)

I showed him that all the comments say that their husbands do the same things, to let him know it’s not a big deal to expose him to the world. We women already know that men always stay boys. To which he replied, “Oh boys, they are so crazy!”

I figure I have another month until he decides to read my blog again, so I kinda think I have free reign to say what I want for the next two weeks at least.

Lately Jordan has taken to the following phrases during conversation; “There’s no proving that.”, “No one knows who (or what) that is.” And “I don’t believe you.”

Imagine having a conversation like that. It might go something like this’

Bre: “Oh look, there’s a kitty over there.”

Jordan: “No one knows what that is.”

Bre: “A kitty? It’s a feline, four legs and furry. We have two.”

Jordan: “I don’t believe you.”

Bre: “It’s right there.”

Jordan: “There’s no proving that.”

Bre: “Yes, there is. Just look over there. Bam, proved.”

Jordan: “I don’t believe you.”

It's enough to drive a gal insane, and possibly to her blog.  A couple friends have noticed his newfound craze and play it back on him.  It makes my heart sing when he realizes he's just gotten a dose of his own medicine.

A completely unrelated note; There is a huge box just sitting by the walkway in the IT dept, and I desperately want to climb inside it.  Somehow I don't think that would be viewed as professional.  Another observation about my IT dept, is that the area smells delightful.  I don't know if one guy has a great cologne, or if they, as a team, are just fantastically hygienic.  Either way, it's a pleasant place to walk through.

D-Listers, Trainwrecks & Famewhores

All right Hollywood, I'm fed up with the wannabe celebrities.  There are so many out there that consider themselves celebrities, and I have to ask why.

There are so many reality (or should I say "reality") shows going on right now, and people are getting ridiculously rich and famous off them.  When I first heard of Keeping up with the Kardashians I thought "Who are the Kadashians, and why the heck would I want to keep up with them?".  I still think that now.  Only now I add a few more questions such as, why do they talk like that, how are they fine with their fam seeing them nudie, and why are they popular again?

What is with the whole realm of reality shows consisting of showing groups of people just because they belong to some society class or another.  For example, Laguna Beach, Jersey Shore, The Hills, The City.  They all make me want to die.  And Laguna Beach has spawned a horrific thread of these shows.  Why would I want to watch a bunch of bratty rich kids?  Lauren Conrad- you have ruined television.

Heaven knows every D-List celebrity thinks they need to have their own show on E! now-a-days.  It's like they can see their fame slipping from them, and scramble to make up the distance by doing a reality show, which only shows why they aren't getting real jobs. 

What a blessing TLC is to families, 'cause if you have a butt load of kids, or you're a dwarf then you have just earned your own reality show on TLC!  Aren't genetics and the lack of birth control pills fantastic?  Admittedly I got sucked into the train wreck of Jon & Kate Plus 8, but if I'm being honest I didn't even start watching their show until their train actually crashed and the scandal of Jon's whoring around got out.  It seems as though once a show/person reaches train wreck status they really take off, and their success (in relative terms) doubles.

Well, I'm sick of it!  I will not acknowledge pretend reality shows.  Perhaps you could call me a Reality Purist.  These shows of people who are only famous for being on a crap reality show are ruining the sanctity of reality.  I will stick to my Survivor, Amazing Race and So You Think You Can Dance.  All the rest can suck it! 

Except . . . If I'm being honest . . . I'll prolly get sucked into Kate Plus 8.