At the Subway Drive Thru window:
Employee: "Hi, how're you?"
Bre: "Uh, good. And you?"
Employee: "Your total is $8.00"
I hand him my card, he stops in the middle of taking it from me.
Employee: "Oh, I'm good. Having a good day."
Bre: "Well, good. That's good."
"Employee: "Here's your sandwich."
Bre: "Thank you."
Employee: "And this is your drink."
Bre: "Thank you."
Employee: "Have a good night!"
Bre: "Thanks, you too."
And I prepare to pull out. Suddenly, he leans out the window.
Employee: "Looks like it's going to rain."
Bre: "Oh...really?"
Employee: "Just look at those clouds, I think it's going to rain. It's dark."
Bre: "Uh huh....Ok, bye!"
Employee: "See ya!"
And then I high-tailed it out of there.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Redemption Is MINE!
Today me and a bunch of coworkers went back to the Habitat for Humanity house for more team-building and volunteer work. I was not looking forward to it after my last experience a mere three weeks ago. If you're confused and would like to not be, you can read about it by clicking...here.
Now that you're all caught up, and fully understand why I was dreading a return visit, I'll continue with my story.
I spent some time trying to think of a good reason not to go, but couldn't find anything reasonable or believable and found myself once more on the build site. I felt it was important to prove myself not completely incompetent and got right to work. I was mainly able to do so because all there was to do at first was haul wood from the living room to outside, and any idiot could do that.
Then I got my assignment, and I'm not even sure how it landed in my lap, not if I would be able to pull it off. I was told to build the windowsills and moldings. Sounds complicated? That's because it was. I almost laughed when the foreman was giving instructions 'cause I couldn't believe he really expected me to be able to accomplish such a task. It was a process with many many steps, involving four different kinds of saws and a nail gun. And they let me play with power tools, even after the last time.
I had to measure the window, adding a bit for the lip, then cut a board to fit, saw around the lip, and nail the sucker down. Then measure, cut and nail in the molding. Considering I couldn't even measure right last time this is extra impressive. I did six windows in total in the four hours that we were there.
I am freaking Bob Villa. I'm considering starting my own home improvement show, with the only topic of building window sills and molding, 'cause that's all that I can do. But I can make the crap out of them. I am now convinced I should go into construction because I fancy myself a full on carpenter.
I should have taken a picture so you could really get the full effect, but didn't want to look like a dork taking a picture of (the world's best-fashioned) window sills. Though, I suppose it's no less dorky to blog about making window sills...
It's safe to say I've redeemed myself, and can now show mysefl at Habitat for Humanity. Can, but probably won't. I think I've had my fill this year.
Now that you're all caught up, and fully understand why I was dreading a return visit, I'll continue with my story.
I spent some time trying to think of a good reason not to go, but couldn't find anything reasonable or believable and found myself once more on the build site. I felt it was important to prove myself not completely incompetent and got right to work. I was mainly able to do so because all there was to do at first was haul wood from the living room to outside, and any idiot could do that.
Then I got my assignment, and I'm not even sure how it landed in my lap, not if I would be able to pull it off. I was told to build the windowsills and moldings. Sounds complicated? That's because it was. I almost laughed when the foreman was giving instructions 'cause I couldn't believe he really expected me to be able to accomplish such a task. It was a process with many many steps, involving four different kinds of saws and a nail gun. And they let me play with power tools, even after the last time.
I had to measure the window, adding a bit for the lip, then cut a board to fit, saw around the lip, and nail the sucker down. Then measure, cut and nail in the molding. Considering I couldn't even measure right last time this is extra impressive. I did six windows in total in the four hours that we were there.
I am freaking Bob Villa. I'm considering starting my own home improvement show, with the only topic of building window sills and molding, 'cause that's all that I can do. But I can make the crap out of them. I am now convinced I should go into construction because I fancy myself a full on carpenter.
I should have taken a picture so you could really get the full effect, but didn't want to look like a dork taking a picture of (the world's best-fashioned) window sills. Though, I suppose it's no less dorky to blog about making window sills...
It's safe to say I've redeemed myself, and can now show mysefl at Habitat for Humanity. Can, but probably won't. I think I've had my fill this year.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Where's The Humanity?
Today me and a couple coworkers went to volunteer with Habitat for Humanity as a team building exercise. I felt pretty good about it because:
1. I was still on the clock.
2. I wasn't at work.
3. I was doing charity.
I hate to admit, but that is in order with the happiest on the top. I love helping other people, but unfortunately getting a paycheck out ranks that.
Ready to jump in and help out, I then came to the realization that I have zero knowledge on how to do anything regarding building a house. I remembered the time where it took Jordan and I several hours to install an overhead fan in the living room. And when I say "Jordan and I", I really mean Jordan.
Yet, I felt confident there would be a place for me, something I could do to contribute, and possibly learn a skill. Then I found out that we were going to be putting siding on a house. (Excuse me while I blow the sawdust out of my nose...)
Basically the two jobs that were needed and available was to either climb up onto the second story of some very untrustworthy looking scaffolding to nail in the siding, or cut the wooden siding to specific sizes to fit around windows and what not.
I might have made a statement that I would rather die than climb up the rickety scaffolding, which is what probably would have happened had I attempted it. So, I was to find a job while earth-bound. Partnering up with a very nice and patient man, he suggested that I measure and mark the siding boards, and he would cut them.
Sure.
I tried to make the first measurement, while he hung over my shoulder most apprehensively. The measurement was 44 1/8. When I pointed at a hash mark asked if that was right it must not have been because he suggested that he measure, and I cut.
Sure.
I wanted to giggle that he was actually letting me operate a power saw, but thought that might not instill any more faith in my competency. He instructed me on how to use the saw, and kept saying crazy things like, "Get your fingers away from the blade!". I made my first shaky cut, then stopped, worried that I was doing it wrong. He very patiently reiterated his instructions, and I was on my way. I cut the crap out of that board. But, I don't think I cut it the right length 'cause they sent it back to us saying it was too long. Better too long than too short, I said confidently andwe he remeasured. I made another cut- less shaky, more straight and was so proud. But then I heard someone from the scaffolding say, "This board is cut crappy." I offered to let my partner give it a go, but he insisted I try again. Bless his heart. When it came back again still just a hair too short, I told the guy to go ahead and shave the excess off, saying I had faith that this board would be right if he were to cut it. He graciously suggested that he could measure and cut if I would be so kind as to take the cut boards and toss them up to the guys on the scaffolding.
Sure.
I was doing ok with the long pieces that I could just hold up vertically and the scaffolding guys could reach down and grab, but then it took me six tries to toss the smaller boards high enough and accurately enough so the guy on the scaffolding could catch it, without dying at least.
AfterI messed up every job that I figured it was time for a lengthy water break and to get reacquainted with my kindle. No one was complaining, that was for sure. It's actually reaffirming that yes, I belong at a desk 'cause there is no way I would be able to hack it in construction.
I'm excited that my boss signed us up to go back in a couple weeks.
1. I was still on the clock.
2. I wasn't at work.
3. I was doing charity.
I hate to admit, but that is in order with the happiest on the top. I love helping other people, but unfortunately getting a paycheck out ranks that.
Ready to jump in and help out, I then came to the realization that I have zero knowledge on how to do anything regarding building a house. I remembered the time where it took Jordan and I several hours to install an overhead fan in the living room. And when I say "Jordan and I", I really mean Jordan.
Yet, I felt confident there would be a place for me, something I could do to contribute, and possibly learn a skill. Then I found out that we were going to be putting siding on a house. (Excuse me while I blow the sawdust out of my nose...)
Basically the two jobs that were needed and available was to either climb up onto the second story of some very untrustworthy looking scaffolding to nail in the siding, or cut the wooden siding to specific sizes to fit around windows and what not.
I might have made a statement that I would rather die than climb up the rickety scaffolding, which is what probably would have happened had I attempted it. So, I was to find a job while earth-bound. Partnering up with a very nice and patient man, he suggested that I measure and mark the siding boards, and he would cut them.
Sure.
I tried to make the first measurement, while he hung over my shoulder most apprehensively. The measurement was 44 1/8. When I pointed at a hash mark asked if that was right it must not have been because he suggested that he measure, and I cut.
Sure.
I wanted to giggle that he was actually letting me operate a power saw, but thought that might not instill any more faith in my competency. He instructed me on how to use the saw, and kept saying crazy things like, "Get your fingers away from the blade!". I made my first shaky cut, then stopped, worried that I was doing it wrong. He very patiently reiterated his instructions, and I was on my way. I cut the crap out of that board. But, I don't think I cut it the right length 'cause they sent it back to us saying it was too long. Better too long than too short, I said confidently and
Sure.
I was doing ok with the long pieces that I could just hold up vertically and the scaffolding guys could reach down and grab, but then it took me six tries to toss the smaller boards high enough and accurately enough so the guy on the scaffolding could catch it, without dying at least.
After
I'm excited that my boss signed us up to go back in a couple weeks.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
How To Survive an Alien Attack
Recently I have had four very vivid dreams about aliens attacking us. One was scary, the second a coincidence and after the third I was convinced that these dreams were sent to me directly from the aliens themselves. I believe they are testing out their methods of invasion on the human subconscious, to see how we might react when they invade.
Of course, their plan has backfired as now I know all their secrets and am fully prepared for an attack. Because I care deeply about the human race, and its subsequent survival, I will share with you how to survive when the aliens come.
When you see the giant mother ship your first intinct is to either stop and stare, or freak out. Neither of these will help you; they will send out their fighter jets lickity split, and those buggers are fast ya'll. So gather your loved ones and make it to a safe place quickly. You're going to want to get home, and I can't blame you 'cause that was what I wanted as well. But that's what they want you to do. They line their fighter jets up and down the streets and fire directly into the houses, knowing that's where people seek cover in. This isn't so bad because they haven't figured out bombs yet, they just shoot large egg-shaped metal chunks, and are essentially punching holes into houses. To outsmart them all you have to do is lay in your backyard, out in the open. They don't expect that, and don't look for you there. If you can build an underground bunker, all the better.
While lacking firearms and missiles, they do employ fireballs. So have a lot of rootbeer on hand 'cause I learned from one dream that in a pinch rootbeer works great to put out fires, and you can shake it up so when opened the pressurized rootbeer will shoot up to get the higher flames you can't reach.
I hope my tutorial has helped, and in the future you're able to survive the alien onslaught.
Of course, their plan has backfired as now I know all their secrets and am fully prepared for an attack. Because I care deeply about the human race, and its subsequent survival, I will share with you how to survive when the aliens come.
When you see the giant mother ship your first intinct is to either stop and stare, or freak out. Neither of these will help you; they will send out their fighter jets lickity split, and those buggers are fast ya'll. So gather your loved ones and make it to a safe place quickly. You're going to want to get home, and I can't blame you 'cause that was what I wanted as well. But that's what they want you to do. They line their fighter jets up and down the streets and fire directly into the houses, knowing that's where people seek cover in. This isn't so bad because they haven't figured out bombs yet, they just shoot large egg-shaped metal chunks, and are essentially punching holes into houses. To outsmart them all you have to do is lay in your backyard, out in the open. They don't expect that, and don't look for you there. If you can build an underground bunker, all the better.
If you don't have a backyard and live in condos or apartments then you're going to have a much different experience. They let groups of aliens off the ship to go through the apartments and clear them out manually. You're probably thinking this sounds much worse, but while scary as all get out, you have a pretty good shot at coming through, and I'll tell you why. They don't use firearms, they use swords. They also do not fully understand what humans are capable of and are just as scared of us. That is what's going to save you; they hesitate before attacking and very nervous about it. Just make your move quickly, attack first and you'll be A-OK 'cause they die pretty easily. I recommend keeping your own sword by the door of your house to be safe and prepared.
While lacking firearms and missiles, they do employ fireballs. So have a lot of rootbeer on hand 'cause I learned from one dream that in a pinch rootbeer works great to put out fires, and you can shake it up so when opened the pressurized rootbeer will shoot up to get the higher flames you can't reach.
And the last point to remember is not to hate the individual alien, they are just following orders, and some of them are good chaps. While they don't successfully take over Earth because we have the best military and were simply no match, some aliens stay behind to live amongst the humans 'cause we are that awesome.
I hope my tutorial has helped, and in the future you're able to survive the alien onslaught.
This guy already has a head start in defeating the alien race. Way to go, comrade!
Monday, August 8, 2011
ZOO!
Sweet sassy molassy! I haven't posted in a while, and I have a legitimate and valid excuse for this.
It's called laziness and procrastination.
A couple weeks ago my family and I, which includes my parents, siblings, and their kids, went to the zoo. We had a grand ol' time. I have been to the zoo a bunch, and for some reason it never gets old to me.
After the first exhibit I sat down on a bench waiting for the rest of the family as they gathered the kids up to move on. A guy came out of the building I was sitting in front of and I thought to myself, "That guy looks like David Boreanaz! Wait, that is David Boreanaz!"
I watched him walk away before commencing my freak out. I ran up to my sister and latched onto her arm and tried to use my best inside voice so David couldn't hear me talking about him, and told my sister that David Boreanaz was right over there. I told my mom and she started to say how cute he is, but then noticed my dad standing right there and instead discreetly waggled her eyebrows at me. Nice.
We pretty much followed behind him as we moved from exhibit to exhibit, and I tried not to stare. I didn't want to go bug him since he was trying to have a day off with his family. But, pictures were discreetly taken.
Here's a delightful little tidbit, in Bones his character is known for wearing funny socks all the time. And at the zoo he was wearing crazy stripey ones. Oh, David, you're so silly.
What a California Dreamboat.
Then we met up with my friend, Maggie, who is a zookeeper and she gave us the VIP treatment and brought out animals for us to see and pet.
At the end of the day my mom asked the little kids what their favorite part of the day was, and they said Maggie bringing out the animals. If you asked us big kids, we would say that our favorite part was Maggie telling the kids not in our group that had surrounded us and the animals to go away. David Boreanaz has nothing on us.
It's called laziness and procrastination.
A couple weeks ago my family and I, which includes my parents, siblings, and their kids, went to the zoo. We had a grand ol' time. I have been to the zoo a bunch, and for some reason it never gets old to me.
After the first exhibit I sat down on a bench waiting for the rest of the family as they gathered the kids up to move on. A guy came out of the building I was sitting in front of and I thought to myself, "That guy looks like David Boreanaz! Wait, that is David Boreanaz!"
I watched him walk away before commencing my freak out. I ran up to my sister and latched onto her arm and tried to use my best inside voice so David couldn't hear me talking about him, and told my sister that David Boreanaz was right over there. I told my mom and she started to say how cute he is, but then noticed my dad standing right there and instead discreetly waggled her eyebrows at me. Nice.
We pretty much followed behind him as we moved from exhibit to exhibit, and I tried not to stare. I didn't want to go bug him since he was trying to have a day off with his family. But, pictures were discreetly taken.
What a California Dreamboat.
Then we met up with my friend, Maggie, who is a zookeeper and she gave us the VIP treatment and brought out animals for us to see and pet.
At the end of the day my mom asked the little kids what their favorite part of the day was, and they said Maggie bringing out the animals. If you asked us big kids, we would say that our favorite part was Maggie telling the kids not in our group that had surrounded us and the animals to go away. David Boreanaz has nothing on us.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
That One Time I Beat the System
For those of you who don't know the story (I'll try to be quick about it), when I was 19 me and two friends decided we were going to live outside of Utah in the name of adventure and experiencing life outside of happy valley. Two weeks later I packed whatever I could fit into my little blue Dodge Neon, and with 200 bucks in my back pocket drove to Washington.
I knew going into it that it was only temporary, I would be coming home once my apartment contract was up in six months. Always in the back of my mind was the thought that I would be going home eventually, and consequently a deep paranoia set in that I wouldn't have enough money to make it home.
So, I became a money hoarder. I took frugal to extremes, counting each cent, and wary of spending anything I saved as if my life depended on it. 'Cause I thought it did.
My friend was working at Blockbuster, and they came out with a new program to buy used DVDs, and we hatched a glorious plan. It was a many stepped plan, so I hope I can explain this so it makes sense.
1. We went to the dollar store, where I bought 12 DVDs for $12.
2. Next, we went to Blockbuster, and sold our DVDs. Because Blockbuster had a guarantee that they would not buy a DVD for less than $5 I got $5-$10 for each of my dollar store DVDs.
3. Blockbuster only gave store credit, so I used the store credit to get the most expensive thing they sold that was brand new, which was a DVD box set of the TV show 24 (in its hey day they were expensive). I also had store credit left.
4.Next, I took my brand new box set to Walmart, who was selling it for more than Blockbuster was, and returned it for a hefty gift card. Figuratively hefty, the card actually weighed the same regardless of the amount on the card.
5. Lastly, I bought the box set I was really pining for but was too cheap to buy myself, which was Alias, with Jennifer Gardner. I also got a CD and had money left over on my gift card.
In those days I knew my way around the Walmart return policy like the back of my hand, and knew how to work the system to get what I wanted. Though, nothing quite as elaborate at that. I could liken watching that DVD to the end of Ocean's 11, where they are all watching the Bellagio Fountain.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Just A Theory
Headaches are basically swelling in the brain causing pressure against your skull, right? And what do you do when any part of your body swells? You put ice on it to bring the swelling down, yes? That being the case, wouldn't the perfect solution to a headache be a big fat brain freeze?
You're welcome, I just cured your headache, and given you a reason to buy a big 'ol carton of your favorite ice cream in the name of medicine.
Note: I am not doctor, though I feel like all it really takes is a skill with Google. I did no research on the matter, and have little desire to. Just like I'm uninterested in hearing if I'm wrong, 'cause you can bet I'm going to be using my next headache as an excuse to enjoy some delicious frozen delights.
So, if you get a headache, eat a sh*t-load of ice cream!
Note: I am not doctor, though I feel like all it really takes is a skill with Google. I did no research on the matter, and have little desire to. Just like I'm uninterested in hearing if I'm wrong, 'cause you can bet I'm going to be using my next headache as an excuse to enjoy some delicious frozen delights.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Enlarged
I love when a company has to put a little note on their product's packaging to inform us that the photo has been enlarged.
'Cause you know some mofo out there cracked open this bag of cough drops and was pissed to find that it does not contain cough drops the size of a small rodent.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
The First Time I Was Pulled Over
My dad was in charge of teaching all six of us kids to drive, and once we had our learner's permit he would take us to a church parking lot to practice before letting us go out on the road. We had been to the parking lot several times, and I was getting frustrated that he wouldn't let me take it out on the road to do some real people driving. He wouldn't even let me drive the car home.
Meanwhile, my older brother, Sbrandon, was letting me drive his truck all over the place whenever I went somewhere with him. One time he said I could drive his truck only if I promised to not use the brake. You know, for funsies. We were up in the foothills hiking, and true to my word we tore down the steep hill to our neighborhood. I still wonder how we survived that.
Back to the story...
I could hardly believe my ears when my dad told me to go ahead and make a right out of the parking lot. The neighborhood around this particular church was very suburban and quiet with little traffic, unless you count the kiddies on bikes. Which is probably why he chose the area.
I was ecstatic, I was so cool, I was cruising 'round the hood, lookin' fly, rollin' hot 'cause I am driving! Then I saw lights flashing behind me. These particular lights were red and blue.
My heart stopped, my entire body went numb and all coherent thought was lost as a jumble of thoughts ran through my head.
My first time legally driving and I was getting pulled over!
My siblings are never going to let me live this down.
What if this means I can't get my license?
Will they take my learner's permit away?
I wasn't even speeding, what did I do wrong?
What do I do? Is there a special procedure for pulling over? What if I pull over wrong, then what?!
Why are there so many kids on bikes? They are clustering around my car!
My dad very calmly talked me through my panic and instructed me to pull over, put it in park and roll my window down. I managed to do so, but was a nervous wreck.
I could hear him approaching, and could see out of the corner of my eye that he was approaching, but was scared to make eye contact with the long arm of the law. I finally turned to look at the officer as he came up to my window. . .
It was my brother.
My oldest brother, Jared, is a Police Officer for San Juan County and was up for something or other, probably training. He got to my parents' house while we were out driving and apparently couldn't resist finding us, and because my dad took us all to the same spot to practice Jared knew exactly where to look.
The posse of little kids riding their bikes got a good show though. They saw a girl getting pulled over, then said girl call the officer a jerk and lean out the window to hit the officer.
If you're wondering, the kind officer let me keep my learner's permit.
Meanwhile, my older brother, Sbrandon, was letting me drive his truck all over the place whenever I went somewhere with him. One time he said I could drive his truck only if I promised to not use the brake. You know, for funsies. We were up in the foothills hiking, and true to my word we tore down the steep hill to our neighborhood. I still wonder how we survived that.
Back to the story...
I could hardly believe my ears when my dad told me to go ahead and make a right out of the parking lot. The neighborhood around this particular church was very suburban and quiet with little traffic, unless you count the kiddies on bikes. Which is probably why he chose the area.
I was ecstatic, I was so cool, I was cruising 'round the hood, lookin' fly, rollin' hot 'cause I am driving! Then I saw lights flashing behind me. These particular lights were red and blue.
My heart stopped, my entire body went numb and all coherent thought was lost as a jumble of thoughts ran through my head.
My first time legally driving and I was getting pulled over!
My siblings are never going to let me live this down.
What if this means I can't get my license?
Will they take my learner's permit away?
I wasn't even speeding, what did I do wrong?
What do I do? Is there a special procedure for pulling over? What if I pull over wrong, then what?!
Why are there so many kids on bikes? They are clustering around my car!
My dad very calmly talked me through my panic and instructed me to pull over, put it in park and roll my window down. I managed to do so, but was a nervous wreck.
I could hear him approaching, and could see out of the corner of my eye that he was approaching, but was scared to make eye contact with the long arm of the law. I finally turned to look at the officer as he came up to my window. . .
It was my brother.
My oldest brother, Jared, is a Police Officer for San Juan County and was up for something or other, probably training. He got to my parents' house while we were out driving and apparently couldn't resist finding us, and because my dad took us all to the same spot to practice Jared knew exactly where to look.
The posse of little kids riding their bikes got a good show though. They saw a girl getting pulled over, then said girl call the officer a jerk and lean out the window to hit the officer.
If you're wondering, the kind officer let me keep my learner's permit.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
My Butt & The Bum That Handed It To Me
I got my butt handed to me by a homeless man.
After spending some time at FAO Schwartz we set off to find a bite to eat before we needed to head to Lion King. We found a delightful little deli just up the street and popped in there for lunch. If you're curious, and I know you are, I got a grilled chicken sammich with avocado. It made my heart sing.
I was out front by myself waiting for the rest of my peoples as they were buying cookies for the road. As I was standing there a homeless man approached me.
"Do you have any change?"
"I don't, I'm sorry." Which was very true.
"Well, you have a credit card, you can go in there and buy me a sandwich." This wasn't even said as a request, it was like it was the obvious solution to the problem of me not having change.
"I'm sorry?" I asked because I both couldn't believe I'd heard right, and because I could barely understand him through his thick mumbly accent.
"You can take your credit card, and go buy me a sandwich."
"I don't think I want to do that, I'm sorry sir."
"But, I'm hungry."
"I'm sorry, sir." Was all I had to say. I began to understand that he wasn't going to leave me alone, and my cavalry wasn't coming out of the deli anytime soon.
"So, where you come from you just let people go hungry?"
I have to admit at this point I was getting pretty defensive and annoyed. "Where I come from, people just have jobs."
"But, what am I supposed to do?"
"You should probably just get a job."
"But what am I supposed to do if people won't hire me?" I wanted to ask how this was my fault, but just shrugged and apologized again.
At this point a swanky dressed man walked up to the deli. The homeless man turned his attention to the newcomer, and asked him to buy him a sandwich. The man shook his head and went into the deli.
The homeless man turned back to me and said, "Rich guy won't buy me a sandwich, what's wrong with you?!"
Does that make sense to anyone else? I just rolled my eyes, "I'm not rich."
Finally the man sauntered off to accost more people and my crew came out of the deli with fresh cookies . We walked down the street and pssed the guy, who was now harassing another woman. I looked at him and pointedly bit into my cookie.
Maybe I am heartless, but I have a hard time giving handouts to people that don't help themselves. I'm more apt to give change to street performers rather than a guy that gives me the 3rd degree about buying him a sandwich.
What do you think? Would you have bought the guy a sandwich?
After spending some time at FAO Schwartz we set off to find a bite to eat before we needed to head to Lion King. We found a delightful little deli just up the street and popped in there for lunch. If you're curious, and I know you are, I got a grilled chicken sammich with avocado. It made my heart sing.
I was out front by myself waiting for the rest of my peoples as they were buying cookies for the road. As I was standing there a homeless man approached me.
"Do you have any change?"
"I don't, I'm sorry." Which was very true.
"Well, you have a credit card, you can go in there and buy me a sandwich." This wasn't even said as a request, it was like it was the obvious solution to the problem of me not having change.
"I'm sorry?" I asked because I both couldn't believe I'd heard right, and because I could barely understand him through his thick mumbly accent.
"You can take your credit card, and go buy me a sandwich."
"I don't think I want to do that, I'm sorry sir."
"But, I'm hungry."
"I'm sorry, sir." Was all I had to say. I began to understand that he wasn't going to leave me alone, and my cavalry wasn't coming out of the deli anytime soon.
"So, where you come from you just let people go hungry?"
I have to admit at this point I was getting pretty defensive and annoyed. "Where I come from, people just have jobs."
"But, what am I supposed to do?"
"You should probably just get a job."
"But what am I supposed to do if people won't hire me?" I wanted to ask how this was my fault, but just shrugged and apologized again.
At this point a swanky dressed man walked up to the deli. The homeless man turned his attention to the newcomer, and asked him to buy him a sandwich. The man shook his head and went into the deli.
The homeless man turned back to me and said, "Rich guy won't buy me a sandwich, what's wrong with you?!"
Does that make sense to anyone else? I just rolled my eyes, "I'm not rich."
Finally the man sauntered off to accost more people and my crew came out of the deli with fresh cookies . We walked down the street and pssed the guy, who was now harassing another woman. I looked at him and pointedly bit into my cookie.
Maybe I am heartless, but I have a hard time giving handouts to people that don't help themselves. I'm more apt to give change to street performers rather than a guy that gives me the 3rd degree about buying him a sandwich.
What do you think? Would you have bought the guy a sandwich?
Thursday, May 5, 2011
MOM
In honor of Mother's day, I thought I would reminisce on a few memories of my mom.
When I was in Kindergarten each student had to read a story in front of the class. I decided to do The Little Red Hen. If you've never heard it before it was about a hen that grew some wheat and eventually used it to bake bread, all while her barnyard friends wouldn't help her. I'm sure there is a magical morale mixed in there somewhere. My mom made miniature loaves of bread for each kid in my class to have. All the kids thougt that was really cool that they got their own loaf of bread, myself included. I was the coolest kid in class that day.
My mom has always said she has ways of knowing things we think she couldn't possibly know, and if we ever do anything wrong, she'll know about it. She had a rule that we couldn't go downtown by oursleves, and I suppose it was a little dangerous. One day me and my friend decided we were going to bike to the local library. Yes, I realize how nerdy this makes me look that I would risk getting grounded to sneak to the library of all places. We biked down there, perused the library, went to the drugstore to buy some candy, went back to the library and read our books while eating our candy in the most sneaky of fashions to hide it from the librarians, and biked home. I thought we were home free (pun intended) until my mom came home from work that evening and asked how the library was. She was at work all day! She is a magician.
When my friends called the house and my mom answered the phone, it went something like this:
Friend: "Is Bre there?"
Mom: "Physically, but not mentally."
Classic.
One day my mom mentioned how much me and sister looked alike. We don't, and I mean we really don't. With my prowess in rhetoric I jumped to the first comparison that came to mind. Bugs, of course. "But mom, Brit is like a Walking Stick, and I'm like a-a Potato Bug!"
I should add that I was about 21 at that time.
I was in between apartments, and was crashing on my parents couch in the basement while I was waiting for the current tenants to move out of my apartment so I could move in. I had several friends over, and we were sitting in the basement when my mom started yelling down the steps:
"POTATO BUG! POTAAAAATO BUUUUUUG! OH, POTATO BUG!"
My friends stopped talking to listen to my mom holler down the stairs. Of course I tried, in vain, to ignore it.
"Is your mom saying 'Potato Bug'?"
"Ummmmm yeah, I guess she is."
"Wait, is your mom calling you Potato Bug?"
"Ha ha, no."
Then my mom chirps in with, "Potato Bug? BRE! Potato Bug, c'mere!"
She knew my friends were there, and knew exactly the effect it would have. Of course, my friends started calling me Potato Bug.
Jordan and I were freshly dating, and were still in the transition from friends to more than. I was again living in my parents basement, but this time I was occupying the only bedroom downstairs. Jordan came over to hang out a lot, so she was used to him there, but I guess she had sensed the change. I had a TV in my room, and we were sitting there watching a movie when she burst through the door with my dad's old shotgun and shouted "What are your intentions with my daughter?!" Except, she barely finished her sentence before she bust out laughing, and continued to laugh so hard she cried. She laughed the rest of the evening, she was so proud of herself. Jordan however, didn't find it as funny, and it took a while before he wasn't intimidated by my mom. I personally look forward to doing the same thing to my daughters' boyfriends.
I should probably make it clear that the gun wasn't loaded.
*****
My mom has a fear of water, and when we were planning our trip to Lake Powell we were desperate for her to come, even though we were planning on staying on a houseboat. It took a lot of begging, canoodling and bribing, but she eventually agreed to go on the trip.
Once there we joked about how we were going to get her out on the tube behind the speedboat. One morning we were all outside getting the boat ready to take out when she stepped out of the houseboat in her swimsuit, zipped up her lifejacket and said she was ready to go.
All our jaws dropped and we stared, unable to believe she was really going to get on the tube. Despite her fear she hopped on that tube.
My mom playing guitar hero. And if this awesomeness isn't self-explanatory, the look on Jordan's face in the background should be explanation enough.
When I was in Kindergarten each student had to read a story in front of the class. I decided to do The Little Red Hen. If you've never heard it before it was about a hen that grew some wheat and eventually used it to bake bread, all while her barnyard friends wouldn't help her. I'm sure there is a magical morale mixed in there somewhere. My mom made miniature loaves of bread for each kid in my class to have. All the kids thougt that was really cool that they got their own loaf of bread, myself included. I was the coolest kid in class that day.
*****
My mom has always said she has ways of knowing things we think she couldn't possibly know, and if we ever do anything wrong, she'll know about it. She had a rule that we couldn't go downtown by oursleves, and I suppose it was a little dangerous. One day me and my friend decided we were going to bike to the local library. Yes, I realize how nerdy this makes me look that I would risk getting grounded to sneak to the library of all places. We biked down there, perused the library, went to the drugstore to buy some candy, went back to the library and read our books while eating our candy in the most sneaky of fashions to hide it from the librarians, and biked home. I thought we were home free (pun intended) until my mom came home from work that evening and asked how the library was. She was at work all day! She is a magician.
*****
When my friends called the house and my mom answered the phone, it went something like this:
Friend: "Is Bre there?"
Mom: "Physically, but not mentally."
Classic.
*****
One day my mom mentioned how much me and sister looked alike. We don't, and I mean we really don't. With my prowess in rhetoric I jumped to the first comparison that came to mind. Bugs, of course. "But mom, Brit is like a Walking Stick, and I'm like a-a Potato Bug!"
I should add that I was about 21 at that time.
I was in between apartments, and was crashing on my parents couch in the basement while I was waiting for the current tenants to move out of my apartment so I could move in. I had several friends over, and we were sitting in the basement when my mom started yelling down the steps:
"POTATO BUG! POTAAAAATO BUUUUUUG! OH, POTATO BUG!"
My friends stopped talking to listen to my mom holler down the stairs. Of course I tried, in vain, to ignore it.
"Is your mom saying 'Potato Bug'?"
"Ummmmm yeah, I guess she is."
"Wait, is your mom calling you Potato Bug?"
"Ha ha, no."
Then my mom chirps in with, "Potato Bug? BRE! Potato Bug, c'mere!"
She knew my friends were there, and knew exactly the effect it would have. Of course, my friends started calling me Potato Bug.
*****
Jordan and I were freshly dating, and were still in the transition from friends to more than. I was again living in my parents basement, but this time I was occupying the only bedroom downstairs. Jordan came over to hang out a lot, so she was used to him there, but I guess she had sensed the change. I had a TV in my room, and we were sitting there watching a movie when she burst through the door with my dad's old shotgun and shouted "What are your intentions with my daughter?!" Except, she barely finished her sentence before she bust out laughing, and continued to laugh so hard she cried. She laughed the rest of the evening, she was so proud of herself. Jordan however, didn't find it as funny, and it took a while before he wasn't intimidated by my mom. I personally look forward to doing the same thing to my daughters' boyfriends.
I should probably make it clear that the gun wasn't loaded.
*****
My mom has a fear of water, and when we were planning our trip to Lake Powell we were desperate for her to come, even though we were planning on staying on a houseboat. It took a lot of begging, canoodling and bribing, but she eventually agreed to go on the trip.
Once there we joked about how we were going to get her out on the tube behind the speedboat. One morning we were all outside getting the boat ready to take out when she stepped out of the houseboat in her swimsuit, zipped up her lifejacket and said she was ready to go.
All our jaws dropped and we stared, unable to believe she was really going to get on the tube. Despite her fear she hopped on that tube.
Smiling or grimacing, you ask? I think I little bit of both.
While she didn't exactly conquer her fear, I was so proud that she kicked it in the butt a little that day.
******
My mom is the greatest mother I could have asked for. I feel so lucky to be her daughter. When I grow up I want to be just like her.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
I Saw a UFO
Actually, I saw two of them. They were small, lighted and humming.
I'm pretty sure they were just remote controlled airplanes with lights on them.
But that's what they want you to think.
But that's what they want you to think.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Brighton's Fiscal Friend
I cleaned out my purse and ended up with a big ol' stack of coins. Luckily my mom got me the coolest piggy bank this side of the Mississippi. So cool I feel like I need to spell it "kewl". My piggy bank scares the living crap out of Brighton, which only makes is cooler (kewler).
My bank is a plush puppy, and when you put a coin in its back it whines, barks and pants all while flapping it's ears up and down. Its hell to Brighton, he really loses his mind when the bank goes off. As I said, I had a big ol' stack of coins and a bit of time.
This is a very concerned creature.
My bank is a plush puppy, and when you put a coin in its back it whines, barks and pants all while flapping it's ears up and down. Its hell to Brighton, he really loses his mind when the bank goes off. As I said, I had a big ol' stack of coins and a bit of time.
To really get at him I put the bank on the table, and enjoyed watching Boy try to get up there. Apparently, Kloe enjoyed the show as well.
He never was able to reach the faux pup, though not for lack of trying.
I don't think this war is over yet.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
I Have Multiple Personality Disorder
I've just had it brought to my attention that I have multiple personalities. I am terrified. Not because my alter ego is a crazy serial killer (at least not that I know of) but because I had absolutely no idea, and no recollection of events that have happened whilst my other Bre is at the reins. Also, she is a self-deprecating, attention-seeking hypochondriac.
So, just like me. I wonder if her greatest goal is to become Rebecca Black's Lyricist as well.
My first sign of this fabled disorder was a couple weeks ago. There is a lady that I used to work closely with on a project last Aug/Sept, but every time I see her in the halls she avoids eye contact, and doesn't say anything back if I say something to her. It was like we had never met. It was like rude. To seek my revenge, I made sure to say hi to her every time I saw her, determined to get a response, a simple "hi" in return. Nevertheless, I got zilch, and I started to wonder if I had made up ever working with her. I decided that I had more than enough casual and unnecesary work acquaintances, and let her live in her silent world.
Then, a couple weeks ago I hopped onto the elevator to find her inside. I groaned inwardly knowing it was going to be an awkward ride. To my surprise she turns to me and says, "Hi, I'm, Smichelle!" (You know, to protect her identity and all) My jaw nearly dropped, she speaks! Then I said, "I'm BreAnn, we've actually met, and we worked together on sherka." Sherka isn't actually the name of the project, but I figure you're not going to know what I'm talking about, so I could create any project name I wanted.
Then she says, "Oh, I didn't recognize you in this building." For clarification purposes, I should explain that our company has two buildings that connect by a bridge in the middle. I used to work in one, and now I work in the other. Though, that explanation doesn't clear up why I would look like a completely different person from one building to the next.
Days after that I ran into her in the bathroom. As I've mentioned previously I prefer not to have conversations in the bathroom, and I thought given our previous, and very silent, encounters before that I was in the clear. But, maybe she felt bad about her diss in the elevator and thought she had to make up for it, and chose to do so by asking how I've been feeling. I felt really confused right then, that's for sure. I answered that I was fine, and she enquired about my health. Since I had no clue what she was talking about I thought this might be regarding my weight, and the fact that there is a lot of it. I sputtered a little and included some drawn out "ums" and she said something about all my health problems and how I've had to miss a lot of work because of my ongoing health issues.
To be honest my first thought was, I have?! For a minute I was about to answer that I was feeling much better, thank you. Then I realized that should I have major health issues Miss I Didn't Recognize You In This Building wasn't going to be my confidant. I thought the most polite way to say "You're friggin' crazy" would be, "I don't remember that." She insisted that yes, weren't you gone from work a lot because of your health? I told her no, she must be thinking of someone else, and excused myself from the bathroom.
The second part of this story would make more sense if you understand that A) My sister works at the same company, B) She's super preggo and C) We have a Sister Code that point blank states any big news must be shared with the sister before anyone else, our parents being the only exception. Yes, it's in writing.
My sister IM'd me yesterday proclaiming in no uncertain terms that she thought we were sisters and in short, I had broken the Sister Code. Apparently, someone was talking to her yesterday and told her something about me that she never knew. I couldn't imagine what it could be, or who would know some deep dark secret of mine. I asked her who it was and this person had never shared a heart to heart convo with me. My sister says that they were talking about her pregnancy, and this individual, whom we'll call Schmanna, asked her if I was ok with her being pregnant 'cause apparently I told her that I had been desperately trying to get pregnant for years and haven't been able to.
Perhaps these are my fabled health issues that took me out of work?
My sister, confused and probably offended said, "Hmmm, I never knew about that." Schmanna insisted that I had told her all about my struggle to concieve. My sister was quite surprised that I had kept my infertility issues a secret, and that I would choose to tell a random coworker of all people.
The only conclusion that I can come up with is that I have multiple personalities. This other me is running around telling people about her health problems, and mourns for her unborn children. So, if you're ever talking to me and I insist my name isn't Bre, and I say my name is really Jennaphernelia, (that just feels right, somehow) just know that you're about to hear an earful about my/her personal problems.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Thank You, Georgia
Last night I was driving home from work, enjoying the warmish weather. I had my window rolled half down to indulge in a delightful breeze. That's when it hits me; the gift Georgia gave me.
Several years ago I was driving through Georgia. Perhaps I should clarify the state of Georgia, and not a person, that makes a big difference. It was a pretty drive, and the air felt nice as I stuck my arm out the window and breathed in the warm air.
Then I experienced something I had never felt before, and to say I was confused is an understatement. A thousand tiny little needles started stabbing me in the eyes, tears poured from my eyes and ran down my cheeks. My traveling companions thought I was bawling, and I very well could have. I dug my fists into my eyes, knowing I was smearing my mascara everywhere, it was a lost cause anyway since my tears made quick work of any semblance of makeup I had on. I ripped out my contacts, and settled in to rub, rub, rub.
"What's wrong, Bre?!"
"It burns!!!"
"Bre, it's just allergies."
"But, I don't have allergies!"
"Uh, pretty sure you do."
Before that moment I had never experienced an inkling of allergies, and then it was like getting smacked in the eyes with an angry cat. Georgia had ripped open a Pandora's box within me.
Every spring since then I have gotten allergies in the evening when I'm driving around. Every time it hits me I think, "Thank you, Georgia."
Several years ago I was driving through Georgia. Perhaps I should clarify the state of Georgia, and not a person, that makes a big difference. It was a pretty drive, and the air felt nice as I stuck my arm out the window and breathed in the warm air.
Then I experienced something I had never felt before, and to say I was confused is an understatement. A thousand tiny little needles started stabbing me in the eyes, tears poured from my eyes and ran down my cheeks. My traveling companions thought I was bawling, and I very well could have. I dug my fists into my eyes, knowing I was smearing my mascara everywhere, it was a lost cause anyway since my tears made quick work of any semblance of makeup I had on. I ripped out my contacts, and settled in to rub, rub, rub.
"What's wrong, Bre?!"
"It burns!!!"
"Bre, it's just allergies."
"But, I don't have allergies!"
"Uh, pretty sure you do."
Before that moment I had never experienced an inkling of allergies, and then it was like getting smacked in the eyes with an angry cat. Georgia had ripped open a Pandora's box within me.
Every spring since then I have gotten allergies in the evening when I'm driving around. Every time it hits me I think, "Thank you, Georgia."
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
My Imaginary Adventures
Often times at work someone will see the background on my computer and ask me all about it. Where was it taken, who took the picture, when did that happen, how was I able to get that picture, and so forth. It's getting old to explain that I don't know anything about the picture; I just downloaded a batch of backgrounds off Bing, and point to the giant Bing logo on the picture.
So, I started giving explanations of the pictures.
This picture was taken during my last trip to New York. I was fortunate enough to be part of the Statue Revitalization Project (SRP). SRP restores and maintains the statue, a process that takes several weeks and is done every 5 years. I was in charge of repainting the right arm and hand, and left my initials in the thumb nail.
This was taken in Panama. I was only interested in the fishing, but ended up an honorary member of the Tishunda tribe, an indigenous tribe that lives along the mouth of the Piwi river as it lets into the sea, where I was fishing. The down side of this trip was that my guide, Richu, came down with a nasty case of Panamanian fever, more commonly known in the States as influenza. He spent three days hurling over the boat, which ended up beneficial simply because the regurgitated rice chunks attracted fish like you wouldn't believe.
This picture I had a little fun with. Meet Bernie, he was a good sport while I took my pictures. In fact, all of the polar bears in this photo is Bernie. I overlapped them all to make it look like a whole fleet of bears. Bernie eventually decided he had enough of the photo shoot and charged toward me. I took off running, and Bernie made quick work of the tripod I left behind as I ran.
While vacationing in this quaint English villiage my purse was stolen, and all my money and plane ticket along with it. I was forced to get a short time job that would provide me with enough money to get a plane ticket home. That is how I found myself as a PA on the set of the last installment of the Harry Potter series. The weather was gorgeous all week, and then as we started shooting a seen with Voldemort this wicked storm rolled in. My suspicions have been confirmed that God is a Harry Potter fan.
This was on my Alaskan cruise. You can see my ship in the harbor, Adventure of the Seas. This harbor was not on the itinerary, but we ran out of shrimp and a riot started among the other cruise-goers. After four crew members were trampled, resulting in injuries varying from a black eye to a broken arm, the captain made an emergency pit stop to pick up more shrimp.
This was during the same cruise. We were very fortunate to take our cruise during prime aurora borealis season. Unfortunately, after hiking to this perfect viewing area I reached into my backpack only to realize that I left my camera on the boat. Not willing to hike down and back up again, yet desperate for a good photo of this phenomenon I punched out another tourist and stole their camera. I thought the picture turned out nicely, though.
This is my brother, he's an amazing canyoneering guide. (This is actually true, you can check his website out here. You should do a canyon with him, it's much like doing a canyon with James Franco, minus being stranded and cutting your own arm off with a pocket knife). This is the Womamoke waterfall in south Oregon. He had a great time paddling his kayak around, up until he realized he had no way to get back to the top of the waterfall, where his car was parked.
Yes, the next time someone asks me about my background they will hear all about it.
Friday, April 8, 2011
The Day Karma Took The Wheel
I don't really believe in karma. However, sometimes things happen, and you can't call it anything but karma.
When I was in 6th grade, my dad dropped me and my older brother off at the public library and told us to call him when we were ready to be picked up. I was working on a school project, and wasn't nearly finished when my brother (to protect his identity, I'll call him Sdaren) said he was ready to go home. Sdaren was insistent that we leave, and I argued that I still had work to do. In frustration Sdaren grabbed my pencil and stabbed me in the arm, breaking the tip off into my arm in the process.
I was then ready to go home.
We called my dad and asked to be picked up, and while we waited I was convinced I was going to get lead poisoning. I could feel myself getting weak, and are those heart palpitations? The lead has reached my heart! Then the kind librarian explained that pencil lead is actually made of graphite. I was relieved, and incredibly annoyed at the misnomer.
My dad dropped Sdaren off at home, and took me to an after-hours clinic, since it was a Saturday. Sdaren is nothing but thorough in his stabbings; the pencil tip was wedged in deep and diagonally. The doctor had to slice the hole wider to be able to retrieve the non-lead pencil lead, clean my gaping wound out and stitch me up, good as new.
We got home and I was eager to milk my injury to make Sdaren feel bad. However, we found Sdaren lying on the couch, groaning with a gallon Ziploc bag full of ice on his shoulder. As bad as I felt for him, I couldn't help but laugh.
Apparently, whilst we were at the doctor's office Sdaren and our older brother, we'll call him Sbrandon, got into an argument. Sbrandon chased Sdaren up the stairs, Sdaren went to turn the corner to run down the hall, but turned prematurely and ran into the wall.
My dad now had to take Sdaren to the doctor. Again, it was a Saturday, and the only clinic that was open was the same one he had taken me to. I would have loved to see the look on the doctor's face when he saw my father right back with a different kid in tow.
They got home with Sdaren's arm in a sling and an official report that his collarbone was broken.
The best part of the story? I was talking to Daren this morning, and asked permission to write about this delightful incident. He said sure, and I went through an overview of the story to make sure I was remembering everything right. Afterwards he made a few amendments to the story. Our conversation went as follows:
Daren: "I didn't actually run into a wall. I was running away, and Brandon grabbed my wrist and hit my shoulder in a downward motion."
Bre: "What I heard was Brandon was chasing you, and you went to turn around a corner, but turned too soon and ran into the wall with your shoulder."
Daren: "Yeah, that's what I told the parents 'cause I was afraid I was going to get in trouble."
Bre: "In trouble for what? For Brandon hurting you?"
Daren: "I threw the monopoly game at him and ran."
Bre: "Hahaha, 'cause you were losing?"
Daren: "No, because he was cheating."
Bre: "And you chose to say that you ran into a wall? I still don't get why you would have gotten in trouble."
Daren: "I wasn't thinking, I was in a severe amount of pain, and couldn't think properly. I'm convinced that Brandon brainwashed me to think I would get in trouble."
I believe that, Brandon was very good at getting me and Daren to believe that we would also get in trouble if we tattled. I guess my mom was right when she said the truth always comes out eventually.
In the end, perhaps karma is real after all. It couldn't get anymore blatant than rewarding my older brother for stabbing me with his older brother breaking his collarbone.
What do you think? Does karma exist? I'd like to hear your stories of karmic rewards.
P.S. I looked it up, "karmic" really is a word.
When I was in 6th grade, my dad dropped me and my older brother off at the public library and told us to call him when we were ready to be picked up. I was working on a school project, and wasn't nearly finished when my brother (to protect his identity, I'll call him Sdaren) said he was ready to go home. Sdaren was insistent that we leave, and I argued that I still had work to do. In frustration Sdaren grabbed my pencil and stabbed me in the arm, breaking the tip off into my arm in the process.
I was then ready to go home.
We called my dad and asked to be picked up, and while we waited I was convinced I was going to get lead poisoning. I could feel myself getting weak, and are those heart palpitations? The lead has reached my heart! Then the kind librarian explained that pencil lead is actually made of graphite. I was relieved, and incredibly annoyed at the misnomer.
My dad dropped Sdaren off at home, and took me to an after-hours clinic, since it was a Saturday. Sdaren is nothing but thorough in his stabbings; the pencil tip was wedged in deep and diagonally. The doctor had to slice the hole wider to be able to retrieve the non-lead pencil lead, clean my gaping wound out and stitch me up, good as new.
We got home and I was eager to milk my injury to make Sdaren feel bad. However, we found Sdaren lying on the couch, groaning with a gallon Ziploc bag full of ice on his shoulder. As bad as I felt for him, I couldn't help but laugh.
Apparently, whilst we were at the doctor's office Sdaren and our older brother, we'll call him Sbrandon, got into an argument. Sbrandon chased Sdaren up the stairs, Sdaren went to turn the corner to run down the hall, but turned prematurely and ran into the wall.
My dad now had to take Sdaren to the doctor. Again, it was a Saturday, and the only clinic that was open was the same one he had taken me to. I would have loved to see the look on the doctor's face when he saw my father right back with a different kid in tow.
They got home with Sdaren's arm in a sling and an official report that his collarbone was broken.
The best part of the story? I was talking to Daren this morning, and asked permission to write about this delightful incident. He said sure, and I went through an overview of the story to make sure I was remembering everything right. Afterwards he made a few amendments to the story. Our conversation went as follows:
Daren: "I didn't actually run into a wall. I was running away, and Brandon grabbed my wrist and hit my shoulder in a downward motion."
Bre: "What I heard was Brandon was chasing you, and you went to turn around a corner, but turned too soon and ran into the wall with your shoulder."
Daren: "Yeah, that's what I told the parents 'cause I was afraid I was going to get in trouble."
Bre: "In trouble for what? For Brandon hurting you?"
Daren: "I threw the monopoly game at him and ran."
Bre: "Hahaha, 'cause you were losing?"
Daren: "No, because he was cheating."
Bre: "And you chose to say that you ran into a wall? I still don't get why you would have gotten in trouble."
Daren: "I wasn't thinking, I was in a severe amount of pain, and couldn't think properly. I'm convinced that Brandon brainwashed me to think I would get in trouble."
I believe that, Brandon was very good at getting me and Daren to believe that we would also get in trouble if we tattled. I guess my mom was right when she said the truth always comes out eventually.
In the end, perhaps karma is real after all. It couldn't get anymore blatant than rewarding my older brother for stabbing me with his older brother breaking his collarbone.
What do you think? Does karma exist? I'd like to hear your stories of karmic rewards.
P.S. I looked it up, "karmic" really is a word.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Sunshine
Apparently I'm not the only one enjoying the sun.
In contrast, the dogs have gone emo.
Look at the wingspan on that creature!
P.S. I bet you thought you'd never see pictures outnumber sentences on my blog!
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Published Again!
Remember that one time I was Published by an online magazine that features writers, Voices from the Garage?
I remember that.
Recently, I received an email from them saying that they enjoyed my post, and would like to publish something else of mine. I was tickled pink, naturally.
I looked at their homepage, and saw that five months after it was originally posted Chillax Motivation! was still featured on their homepage. I was tickled a deeper shade of pink.
I had no idea what to send them, and after asking a couple people and getting zero feedback (not that I'm bitter or anything) I sent them Vegatarianish, and hoped they didn't mistake me for being mildly retarded.
I got an email back saying they would love to post it, and feel free to send anything else. I was tickled a light shade of red by this point.
Vegetarianish is now featured on their homepage, go ahead and check it out . . . here!
Love,
Bre
P.S. I bought tickets to see Lion King on Broadway today. One month from next week I'll get to cross an item off my Bucket List.
I remember that.
Recently, I received an email from them saying that they enjoyed my post, and would like to publish something else of mine. I was tickled pink, naturally.
I looked at their homepage, and saw that five months after it was originally posted Chillax Motivation! was still featured on their homepage. I was tickled a deeper shade of pink.
I had no idea what to send them, and after asking a couple people and getting zero feedback (not that I'm bitter or anything) I sent them Vegatarianish, and hoped they didn't mistake me for being mildly retarded.
I got an email back saying they would love to post it, and feel free to send anything else. I was tickled a light shade of red by this point.
Vegetarianish is now featured on their homepage, go ahead and check it out . . . here!
Love,
Bre
P.S. I bought tickets to see Lion King on Broadway today. One month from next week I'll get to cross an item off my Bucket List.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Brotherly Love
Look at these two adorable creatures. This is Brighton when we first got him as a pup, and his brother Havoc. Coincidentally, my sister Britney has Havoc. In the beginning, Havoc lived with us for a couple weeks while Britney and her husband were moving into their new house. As you can see, they got along quite nicely. You can feel the love; that picture is dripping with tenderness, right?
Well, Havoc went home with Britney, and ever since then they have wanted nothing to do with each other. Especially on Brighton's part. We take them to the park together, and whenever Britney comes to our house she brings Havoc with her. We force them to try to bond and spend time together, but they don't seem to care about the deep blood bond they share.
Britney (look how adorable she is, being all pregnant) has developed a therapy session, where she holds one in each arm and forces them to have some face to face time. But, obviously they don't seem too into it. Look at that blatant avoidance of eye contact. It's just so sad to see a rift between brothers like that.
Although, we have made progress. It used to be that whenever Havoc came over Brighton would beg to be held, and when I picked him up he would crawl up onto my shoulder and sit there in his shoulder sanctuary. Now, he's willing to be left on the ground.
Perhaps one day we will find them cuddling again.
P.S. If you have to ask yourself which one is Brighton, just find the cute one, and that'll be him.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Equal Opportunity Easter
I was at Target earlier, and saw this. I just couldn't resist taking a picture.
I know those people in marketing were wondering if the Easter Bunny really relates to every child out there? Apparently the answer was no, and it's a great comfort to know that they addressed the situation.
This new age Easter Bunny is hip, spits mad rhymes and will pop a cap in yo @$$ if you short him on his dime bag.
I'm down.
This new age Easter Bunny is hip, spits mad rhymes and will pop a cap in yo @$$ if you short him on his dime bag.
I'm down.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Promotion
I got a promotion at work! It's actually kind of strange how it all happened. I didn't apply for this new position, and I didn't ask for it. Not that I'm complaining, 'cause I'm tickled pink.
I'm now a project manager in Marketing, and the beauty of it is that I'm still doing what I was doing before, but I'm able to expand my role and have more say in the direction my projects go. I also will be assuming additional resonsibilities within the Marketing Department and creating new projects to better serve the company and customers. Hurray for actually being able to make an impact.
It's so nice to have a change since I've been doing the same thing for a while. It's also a little intimidating because with the added responsibility there is a little voice in the back of my head asking, "what if I suck?". Also, my new desk is surrounded by the CEO and all the executives of the company. My old desk was literally in a corner where no one could see me, and now I'm pretty much on display.
The good news is if the CEO picks his nose I can see it.
I've made it my life's goal to see it.
So here goes, I'm starting a big ol' adventure with a great opportunity. Wish me luck! I just may need it.
I'm now a project manager in Marketing, and the beauty of it is that I'm still doing what I was doing before, but I'm able to expand my role and have more say in the direction my projects go. I also will be assuming additional resonsibilities within the Marketing Department and creating new projects to better serve the company and customers. Hurray for actually being able to make an impact.
It's so nice to have a change since I've been doing the same thing for a while. It's also a little intimidating because with the added responsibility there is a little voice in the back of my head asking, "what if I suck?". Also, my new desk is surrounded by the CEO and all the executives of the company. My old desk was literally in a corner where no one could see me, and now I'm pretty much on display.
The good news is if the CEO picks his nose I can see it.
I've made it my life's goal to see it.
So here goes, I'm starting a big ol' adventure with a great opportunity. Wish me luck! I just may need it.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Turf Wars
I don't know about you guys, but in my house we have prime real estate. There are wars waged on who gets this real estate. Who uses the bathroom first, bed space and of course who gets the good seat in the living room are all up for grabs.
The war has gotten dirty.
We were getting ready to watch a movie, and whoever gets the good seat in the living room is usually based on first come first serve. I happened to come first, so I served myself to the good seat.
Jordan opens the freezer and in utter panic exclaims, "Bre! Look what's in the freezer!"
I join him at the freezer, but everything looks to be the same and I ask, "What?"
"Popsicles!"
I stand there confused, wondering why he would ask me to investigate the popsicles in the freezer while he literally struts over into the living rooms and sits in the good seat as if it were his throne.
I see what he did there. I can even admire his tenacity. A little bait and switch action, classic.
As I stand there with my arms folded he looks around and asks, "Where are my glasses?"
I just smile and point across the room where they sit on the entertainment center, and very much out of his reach.
The war has gotten dirty.
We were getting ready to watch a movie, and whoever gets the good seat in the living room is usually based on first come first serve. I happened to come first, so I served myself to the good seat.
Jordan opens the freezer and in utter panic exclaims, "Bre! Look what's in the freezer!"
I join him at the freezer, but everything looks to be the same and I ask, "What?"
"Popsicles!"
I stand there confused, wondering why he would ask me to investigate the popsicles in the freezer while he literally struts over into the living rooms and sits in the good seat as if it were his throne.
I see what he did there. I can even admire his tenacity. A little bait and switch action, classic.
As I stand there with my arms folded he looks around and asks, "Where are my glasses?"
I just smile and point across the room where they sit on the entertainment center, and very much out of his reach.
Monday, February 28, 2011
The Elusive White Lion
Friday was Jordan's day off. I guess he was bored 'cause I noticed that he started to drop files into my Dropbox. I opened it up and saw that they were images of white lions.
Which, I think we can all agree, is pretty peculiar. To say the least.
I texted that chap asking what the deal was with all the white lion pictures, and he just responded that he would show me when I get home. This made me incredibly nervous, and I didn't see anything good coming out of him not being able to tell me why he was doing a little research on the subject of white lions.
Flash forward to me getting home. I put my key into the lock, and I'm greeted to Brighton's barking. This is completely normal. Bella doesn't bark, but they both rush to the door to greet me and welcome me home from work. I love this. It's nice to know that there are creatures at home anxiously awaiting my return.
I wonder if I could request that Jordan bark when I get home?
So I open the door and there is Bella, spinning in backwards circles as she tends to do when she gets excited. Then rushes towards me a creature that I am not sure how to process. A million things run through my head as I try to comprehend what has happened.
It was a white lion.
Which, I think we can all agree, is pretty peculiar. To say the least.
I texted that chap asking what the deal was with all the white lion pictures, and he just responded that he would show me when I get home. This made me incredibly nervous, and I didn't see anything good coming out of him not being able to tell me why he was doing a little research on the subject of white lions.
Flash forward to me getting home. I put my key into the lock, and I'm greeted to Brighton's barking. This is completely normal. Bella doesn't bark, but they both rush to the door to greet me and welcome me home from work. I love this. It's nice to know that there are creatures at home anxiously awaiting my return.
I wonder if I could request that Jordan bark when I get home?
So I open the door and there is Bella, spinning in backwards circles as she tends to do when she gets excited. Then rushes towards me a creature that I am not sure how to process. A million things run through my head as I try to comprehend what has happened.
It was a white lion.
Jordan proudly exclaimed "He's a lion! Look how big his head looks on his little body!"
Later he asked if he could get some professional haircutting scissors since now he's a pro, and said that if I wanted he could make me look like a lion as well.
Mighty tempting.
Now he's thinking about cutting off his beard, but leaving a long goatee. I'm thinking about hiding all the scissors.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Lord of Valentine's Day
Confession: I'm kind of a nerd. In High School I was pretty obsessed with Lord of the Rings. For Valentine's Day I thought it would be fun to hand out little valentines to all my friends, since I hadn't done that since sixth grade. And I knew without a shadow of doubt that I wanted to get Lord of the Rings valentines. I skipped off to the store (let's not get literal) and looked for LoTR valentine cards.
There were all sorts of themes to be found, but no Lord of the Rings.
I was pissed to say the least.
I was a little embarrassed that no one had the foresight to create Lord of the Rings valentine cards, but I wasn't about to give up that easy. I had a plan. I would be making this cards. And they were going to be fantastic.
All I needed was pictures from the movie and cheesy sayings (i.e. I choo-choo-choose you) to coincide with said pictures. Me and my friend sat down and came up with the most ingenious valentine card sayings ever thought of this side of the Mississippi. My friend put them together, and heaven help me if they weren't the coolest cards on any side of the Mississippi.
Cool enough that I couldn't bear to give them away. And friends spent Valentine's Day sans 1 LoTR V-Day card. I still have them in fact, and would like to share. Also, if you hate Lord of the Rings you can't read.
If I had thought of this earlier I could have scanned these and you would be able to see them in their full glory, but please accept my apologies, and enjoy the sayings at least.
Far-a-mir satisfaction, be mine for Valentine's Day
Why don't you give smea-gol-little lovin'?
Your love comes in pints? I'm getting one!
I would be quite Merry if you would be mine for Valentine's Day
Your love is quite Hobbit forming
You Took my heart away
Gimli a little kiss!
We likes your loves fresh . . .Raw & wriggly (Although, now that I'm older that sounds incredibly wrong)
I'll never Lego-las . . . Happy Valentines Day
We've have one, yes. . . But what about a second kiss?
Be mine, my own, my preciousssssss
Well you need people of good looks for this Valentine's . . . Day . . .thing.
Urakai . . . Be my Valentine?! (My personal favorite, and my mom actually came up with that one. Iif you're having a hard time figuring it out, "Urakai" is supposed to sound like "you're a guy". There, you're getting it now)
I'd be a Sar-u-man if you won't be my Valentine
Golly, I am literally blushing with how completely dorky I am. But at the same time, I just can't regret these awesome cards.
Happy Valentine's Day all my lovely lovelies!
There were all sorts of themes to be found, but no Lord of the Rings.
I was pissed to say the least.
I was a little embarrassed that no one had the foresight to create Lord of the Rings valentine cards, but I wasn't about to give up that easy. I had a plan. I would be making this cards. And they were going to be fantastic.
All I needed was pictures from the movie and cheesy sayings (i.e. I choo-choo-choose you) to coincide with said pictures. Me and my friend sat down and came up with the most ingenious valentine card sayings ever thought of this side of the Mississippi. My friend put them together, and heaven help me if they weren't the coolest cards on any side of the Mississippi.
Cool enough that I couldn't bear to give them away. And friends spent Valentine's Day sans 1 LoTR V-Day card. I still have them in fact, and would like to share. Also, if you hate Lord of the Rings you can't read.
If I had thought of this earlier I could have scanned these and you would be able to see them in their full glory, but please accept my apologies, and enjoy the sayings at least.
Far-a-mir satisfaction, be mine for Valentine's Day
Why don't you give smea-gol-little lovin'?
Your love comes in pints? I'm getting one!
I would be quite Merry if you would be mine for Valentine's Day
Your love is quite Hobbit forming
You Took my heart away
Gimli a little kiss!
We likes your loves fresh . . .Raw & wriggly (Although, now that I'm older that sounds incredibly wrong)
I'll never Lego-las . . . Happy Valentines Day
We've have one, yes. . . But what about a second kiss?
Be mine, my own, my preciousssssss
Well you need people of good looks for this Valentine's . . . Day . . .thing.
Urakai . . . Be my Valentine?! (My personal favorite, and my mom actually came up with that one. Iif you're having a hard time figuring it out, "Urakai" is supposed to sound like "you're a guy". There, you're getting it now)
I'd be a Sar-u-man if you won't be my Valentine
Golly, I am literally blushing with how completely dorky I am. But at the same time, I just can't regret these awesome cards.
Happy Valentine's Day all my lovely lovelies!
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Respect the Do
Brighton has grown increasingly shaggy. Due to a sufficient amount of procrastination, and a less sufficent amount of funds, we haven't gotten around to getting his hair cut. Also, he's super cute when shabby. I mean, shaggy.
The only thing I feel bad about is that his hair covers his eyes and I'm 82% confident he could be considered legally blind. I'm curious to see if I can get him a seeing eye dog, or if being a dog himself would be considered a conflict of interest.
He's also got fabulous comoflage. I'm thinking about painting his nose white to complete the illusion.
Practically twins.
Comb over- check
Looks like an old man yet devilishly handsome- check
Scraggly facial hair- check
A stare that goes straight to your soul- check
Yes, a dead ringer.
And for those crazy nights at home, Brighton always has this look in his arsenal:
I think this look is actually a little slimming. Also, it's straight up Gary Busey.
Or, if you would prefer:
Everyone loves the troll dolls, right?
The only thing I feel bad about is that his hair covers his eyes and I'm 82% confident he could be considered legally blind. I'm curious to see if I can get him a seeing eye dog, or if being a dog himself would be considered a conflict of interest.
He's also got fabulous comoflage. I'm thinking about painting his nose white to complete the illusion.
To help him see we tried putting barrettes in to clip his hair back, but that just seemed like animal cruelty. So we experimented and a suave little comb over did the trick to clear his eyes.
Also, he looks a little familiar. Who does he remind me of? Oh yes.
Comb over- check
Looks like an old man yet devilishly handsome- check
Scraggly facial hair- check
A stare that goes straight to your soul- check
Yes, a dead ringer.
And for those crazy nights at home, Brighton always has this look in his arsenal:
I think this look is actually a little slimming. Also, it's straight up Gary Busey.
Everyone loves the troll dolls, right?
Monday, February 7, 2011
Vegetarianish
Last weekend I went to Texas Roadhouse with a couple of my family members. They convinced me to try the steak, and I decided to give it a go, and me and my sister, Britney decided to split one.
The waiter came along and asked for our order, and asked how we'd like it cooked. Britney piped up with "medium rare" as I was about to say "well-done" and I realized that although we're splitting a steak we never put much thought ahead of time that we'd probably want it cooked differently. The waiter and my family assured me that "medium-rare" was the best way to cook a steak 'cause the meat melts in your mouth. Really, melting meat is the best way you can convince me to try something new? 'Cause the idea of meat melting in my mouth isn't as appetizing as you might think. I said ok, I'll do it your way, let's go ahead and cook it medium-rare.
The steak came out and my stomach flipped. It was so red. I was told that the red is just the juices, and it's not blood. Personally, I'm going to go ahead and assume that if it looks like blood, smells like blood and tastes like blood, chances are extremely high that it's blood. The kind waiter happened to stop by as I said "I'm sorry, I just can't eat that." and said he'd take my half back to cook more. While I'm incredibly grateful, I couldn't help but wonder why that option wasn't offered in the beginning while we were debating how the steak should be cooked. My brother said to the waiter, "Sorry, she's a vegetarian, and we're trying to get her to start eating meat." Not true, but completely worth the look on the waiter's face as his jaw dropped and said something along the lines of "Wow, you're sure throwing her out there starting her with a steak."
My steak came back still pink, but I didn't want to be the brat to send it back a second time, and decided to just eat it as is. I don't want to use the word "painful", but I've come to the conclusion that I'm not a steak girl. That meat just sat in my stomach all day and made me feel gross. I'm still waiting for a cat-sized parasite to burst through my stomach adorned in top hat and tails ala Space Balls's parody of Alien.
But now I'm thinking maybe I should be a vegetarian. I've actually put a lot of thought into this, and I'm going to do it. No animal products whatsoever.
Except dairy of course. That's not really a big deal, anyway. And life without ice cream is no life at all. Oh, and eggs I think are fine 'cause those things were never alive anyway, and they get laid whether or not people eat them. So milk and eggs, but everything else is off limit.
Except. . . tuna's not bad, right? Fish aren't really that sentient and fish are just fish. Yes, tuna is ok.
Although, chicken is just the basic white meat, right? Chicken is just chicken and it's hard to get away from chicken, so why bother? Ok, so chicken is acceptable. It'll be my source of protein, since the body has to have protein.
And Turkey on thanksgiving. What is Thanksgiving without turkey? Turkeys are stupid anyway. They can drown themselves by looking up at the sky when it rains. That being said, they kind of deserve to die.
And bacon is super delicious. I mean, really really good stuff, that bacon.
Other than that I'm going to be a totally hardcore vegetarian.
The waiter came along and asked for our order, and asked how we'd like it cooked. Britney piped up with "medium rare" as I was about to say "well-done" and I realized that although we're splitting a steak we never put much thought ahead of time that we'd probably want it cooked differently. The waiter and my family assured me that "medium-rare" was the best way to cook a steak 'cause the meat melts in your mouth. Really, melting meat is the best way you can convince me to try something new? 'Cause the idea of meat melting in my mouth isn't as appetizing as you might think. I said ok, I'll do it your way, let's go ahead and cook it medium-rare.
The steak came out and my stomach flipped. It was so red. I was told that the red is just the juices, and it's not blood. Personally, I'm going to go ahead and assume that if it looks like blood, smells like blood and tastes like blood, chances are extremely high that it's blood. The kind waiter happened to stop by as I said "I'm sorry, I just can't eat that." and said he'd take my half back to cook more. While I'm incredibly grateful, I couldn't help but wonder why that option wasn't offered in the beginning while we were debating how the steak should be cooked. My brother said to the waiter, "Sorry, she's a vegetarian, and we're trying to get her to start eating meat." Not true, but completely worth the look on the waiter's face as his jaw dropped and said something along the lines of "Wow, you're sure throwing her out there starting her with a steak."
My steak came back still pink, but I didn't want to be the brat to send it back a second time, and decided to just eat it as is. I don't want to use the word "painful", but I've come to the conclusion that I'm not a steak girl. That meat just sat in my stomach all day and made me feel gross. I'm still waiting for a cat-sized parasite to burst through my stomach adorned in top hat and tails ala Space Balls's parody of Alien.
But now I'm thinking maybe I should be a vegetarian. I've actually put a lot of thought into this, and I'm going to do it. No animal products whatsoever.
Except dairy of course. That's not really a big deal, anyway. And life without ice cream is no life at all. Oh, and eggs I think are fine 'cause those things were never alive anyway, and they get laid whether or not people eat them. So milk and eggs, but everything else is off limit.
Except. . . tuna's not bad, right? Fish aren't really that sentient and fish are just fish. Yes, tuna is ok.
Although, chicken is just the basic white meat, right? Chicken is just chicken and it's hard to get away from chicken, so why bother? Ok, so chicken is acceptable. It'll be my source of protein, since the body has to have protein.
And Turkey on thanksgiving. What is Thanksgiving without turkey? Turkeys are stupid anyway. They can drown themselves by looking up at the sky when it rains. That being said, they kind of deserve to die.
And bacon is super delicious. I mean, really really good stuff, that bacon.
Other than that I'm going to be a totally hardcore vegetarian.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Overshare
Coworker: "Hmm, that sucks."
Bre: "Your mom sucks."
Coworker: "Yeah- my dad!"
Um . . . . really? Why would you think that? I don't have a whole more to say about the subject.
*Shudder*
Bre: "Your mom sucks."
Coworker: "Yeah- my dad!"
Um . . . . really? Why would you think that? I don't have a whole more to say about the subject.
*Shudder*
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
It's the Grand Chahee's Birthday!
Saturday was my birthday. To be quite honest I didn't really think much of it, and kept forgetting about it. Let's see, what am I doing Saturday again? Seems like it was something important . . .
My sis and I had decided that we were going to go to breakfast at IHOP that morning. Saturday morning rolled around and I went to pick her up. And to my surprise her husband was coming along as well. I was excited 'cause he's a good guy and the more the merrier!
We got to IHOP and as we got to a door there was another lady there that looked a lot like my mom. Oh wait, it is my mom! What are the odds that we all happened to be going to IHOP at the same time? Which is extra weird 'cause my mom isn't one to just go out to breakfast Saturday mornings. Oh now I get it! She's there to meet us! How silly of me. I was extra excited, what a delightful surprise! We get inside and there stands my dad and my grandma! Talk about a good birthday surprise (especially considering I hadn't really put much thought into it actually being my birthday).
Throughout the day I had a lot of birthday wishes thrown my way, but none that could beat the text I got from my friend, Maggie:
(If you're unfamiliar with this song, that's really unfortunate for you 'cause it's going to make considerably less sense)
"You had (or currently having) a birthday, shout hooray (HOORAY!) We want to sing to you today (want to, but won't). One year older and wiser too (I'd sure hope so. Does mean you have 26 wise points, or like wise vouchers? Could you trade in said vouchers for prizes? Like at 5 you could cash in for a sparkly pencil, 20 an applebees gift card, 50 an ipod, and if you make it to 100, new hips? So you could get a gift card AND a sparkly pencil if you cash in now! Do it, I bet they have a blue sparkly one . . . anyway . . .) haaaaappy birthday to YOU!"
Aaaaaaand that's why she's my best friend.
My b-day was grand. Thanks for all you lovely people out there who wished me a happy birthday. Golly, I felt special!
Love,
Bre
P.S. I'm wearing a new bra, and the underwire is fashioned out of razor blades and dipped in the devil's spit. thought you'd want to know.
My sis and I had decided that we were going to go to breakfast at IHOP that morning. Saturday morning rolled around and I went to pick her up. And to my surprise her husband was coming along as well. I was excited 'cause he's a good guy and the more the merrier!
We got to IHOP and as we got to a door there was another lady there that looked a lot like my mom. Oh wait, it is my mom! What are the odds that we all happened to be going to IHOP at the same time? Which is extra weird 'cause my mom isn't one to just go out to breakfast Saturday mornings. Oh now I get it! She's there to meet us! How silly of me. I was extra excited, what a delightful surprise! We get inside and there stands my dad and my grandma! Talk about a good birthday surprise (especially considering I hadn't really put much thought into it actually being my birthday).
Throughout the day I had a lot of birthday wishes thrown my way, but none that could beat the text I got from my friend, Maggie:
(If you're unfamiliar with this song, that's really unfortunate for you 'cause it's going to make considerably less sense)
"You had (or currently having) a birthday, shout hooray (HOORAY!) We want to sing to you today (want to, but won't). One year older and wiser too (I'd sure hope so. Does mean you have 26 wise points, or like wise vouchers? Could you trade in said vouchers for prizes? Like at 5 you could cash in for a sparkly pencil, 20 an applebees gift card, 50 an ipod, and if you make it to 100, new hips? So you could get a gift card AND a sparkly pencil if you cash in now! Do it, I bet they have a blue sparkly one . . . anyway . . .) haaaaappy birthday to YOU!"
Aaaaaaand that's why she's my best friend.
My b-day was grand. Thanks for all you lovely people out there who wished me a happy birthday. Golly, I felt special!
Love,
Bre
P.S. I'm wearing a new bra, and the underwire is fashioned out of razor blades and dipped in the devil's spit. thought you'd want to know.
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