It might turn out okay if you marry a serial killer…

So I’ve been watching this show all evening on Netflix called “Who the #@!* did I marry?!”. I’m at the end of the episode about the Green River Killer and while there’s some definite cons (like, you know, he’s a murderer) about marrying a serial killer, there’s also some pros. Such as:

1. You’re the only one safe from getting murdered: I mean, come on, like he is going to murder you and draw all that attention to himself.

2.  Presents: Serial killers are constantly buying their spouses roses, jewelry and one woman even got a Porsche. Obviously I get that the gifts are basically to guarantee that when the police show up at your door that you will just stop asking questions for FIVE minutes and proclaim their innocence. Well, until their letters from prison get to be just too much. HOWEVER, as someone who happens to LOVE presents I still consider it a pro.

3.  Oh, you’ve always wanted hardwood floors? No problem! He will be pulling the carpet up and burning it while you’re at work. 

4. Your house will ALWAYS be clean: Spotless in fact. No finger prints on YOUR windows!

 

It wouldn’t be very fair if I didn’t mention some of the cons. For instance:

1.  Fingers: One day you’re gonna find lots of them. Probably in your toilet tank.

I have been very busy with important things

So I’ve been very busy with some important things since I last updated.

1. Searching for My Little Ponies on eBay. I miss my ponies and needed a fix. Though I’m afraid people think I might be a pedophile because not only do I like Justin Bieber (HE’S 18 OKAY?!) but I spent like 4 hours looking at ponies online. People are serious about this shit too. This is a description someone wrote about the My Little Ponies she sells:

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My favorite sentence is when she tells you she’d be happy to smell any of the ponies if they come from a less than desirable home. I wonder if they do the same thing for foster kids when they’re selling those.

2. I finally realized that panda bears probably smell really bad.

3. I saw the Velveteen Rabbit in my driveway. The real life one. And I know it was him because he didn’t move when I pulled my car up, he just stared at me.

4. I decided that beluga whales are the neediest, most desperate animals and you would not want them as a friend.

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Look at this photo. If you don’t look at this and visualize him saying, “Oh. Hey. Did you say something about going to lunch? I know you didn’t invite me but I mean, I love lunch. I’ve been working on some new jokes. Want to hear them? I swam all the way from the Arctic to see you. I know you said your phone is broken every day and that’s why you never answer but I am pretty handy with phones if you want me to take a look at it. Also, I uh, noticed you hadn’t accepted my friend request yet. Every time I look it says ‘Request pending’. But I did see that you’ve been changing your profile picture and that you’ve been adding other friends. No worries, I’m sure you’re really busy,” then you’re an idiot.

5. I saw “The Amazing Spiderman.” Well, I tried to but these 14 year old girls were sitting next to me and talking through the ENTIRE thing. One of them was texting but still wanted to know what was going on so the other one would loudly explain what had just happened.

Girl 1: “Wait, who is that guy? Which guy is that?” Girl 2: “That’s Spiderman’s uncle. He’s going to be dead later.” Girl 1: “Omgaaaah.”

It took everything within me not to lean over and say, “Excuse me. First of all, do you know your shapes? Great. Okay you see that rectangle at the front of the room? That’s a MOVIE and I see that you’re not overly invested in it but I am trying to be and someone keeps distracting me. I get it, it’s great that Jared texted you. Oh, how do I know about that? Only because you’ve been discussing it louder than God beside me. So here’s what we’re going to do: You can either shut up or you can go shoot yourself. It’s up to you. Those are your options.”

6. I was in one of my best friend’s weddings and spent the entirety of the time making up “what if” situations about how I could ruin her wedding, telling her I was going to walk down the aisle like a Tennessee walking horse, and invading everyone’s personal space on the dance floor.

7. I discovered I can dance and eat an apple at the same time.

8. I caught a raccoon in the act of eating garbage on top of a dumpster.

So as you can see I’ve had a super busy and important month. It’s okay if you haven’t, mine was enough for the both of us.

Brushing Animals is a PERK

So I have this love/hate relationship with the Zooborns website. While I love baby animals, I am absolutely disgusted that I don’t get the chance to tend to any of them. What makes those zookeepers  so special? When do I get the chance to brush the tiniest monkey ever with a toothbrush? I spent most of the evening screaming about this to Rob and I found out that APPARENTLY there is no job that is specifically for brushing baby animals!

Me: “DJ ROBBY D!”

Rob: “PLEASE stop calling me that.”

Me: “What do you mean? That’s your rap name. Anyway, my life is in shambles. I need a new job.”

Rob: “Okay, let’s find you a new one online. Hmm…okay, here are some administrative assistant jobs, one at a nursing home…”

Me: “No. no no. Where are the jobs brushing baby animals at the zoo?”

Rob: “What? No one has that job.”

Me: “Okay then, hand raising meerkat pups as my own. I’ll take that.”

Rob: “These aren’t real jobs.”

Me: “Okay, here’s the thing.  Look at these girls:  They are my age and they are holding meerkat pups. Six between them.  That’s the job I want.  They have it, I want it.”

Rob: “Their job isn’t just raising meerkats or brushing animals! They’ve probably put in a lot of time and have a degree in biology.”

Me: “Now look. Here they’ve decided to put all these meerkats in a silver bowl.  They said, ‘We have a silver mixing bowl. And meerkats. Go on, put them in there! Quick!’ Then they said, ‘We need more places to put these baby meerkats. What about… THIS! We have this spare water bowl from those arctic fox cubs we raised and now live at our house. Put them in there. We have all afternoon!'”

Rob: “I just don’t think you understand how zoos work…”

Me: “All I know is that I’m very clearly stating what sort of job I want and I notice that you keep looking at restaurant jobs. I want the job brushing animals and raising them as my children. Put that in the search engine. WHERE ARE THOSE JOBS?!”

Rob: “OKAY HONEY. Here’s the thing: those girls know something about science. That’s how they have that job. And I love you but I saw your ACT scores and you just don’t know anything about science. BRUSHING BABY ANIMALS IS A PERK. NOT A JOB. A PERK. If you want a new job, be realistic.

Me: “Look at this tiniest monkey. They are brushing him WITH A TOOTHBRUSH. Because a comb would break him.” 

Goodest and Baddest

So I decided it was time I make a list of my goodest and baddest ideas.  And yes, I know that you’re not supposed to say either of those words but guess what? I promised MeLissa and I’m a woman of my word.

GOODEST:

1. Forever Puppies: Can we all agree that big dogs as puppies are one of the cutest things in the world besides kittens? Yes we can. So here’s the deal: I find someone science-y and together we figure out how to make golden retriever puppies STAY puppies. Or I will just pay them to figure out how to make a new breed of puppy and I’ll just take the credit. I guess mess with their hormones or something.  And I know what you’re about to say: “Just get a small dog.” NO! Small dogs still have adult faces. I want a forever golden retriever puppy with the babiest face ever.

2. Acquire a baby hippo: this one goes along the same lines as Forever Puppies but it’s really just more for me. I want to take a baby pygmy hippo and have it be a baby FOREVER. I won’t sell those like I will the Forever Puppies because I’m just making one. I’ll just do exactly what you would think someone would do with a baby hippo: Put it in the bathtub. Dress it in a sailor outfit. Name it Jeremy.

3. Buying the Jackson 5’s greatest hits:  I have played nothing else for 3 months.

4. Vodka gummy bears: MeLissa told me about this so Erin and I immediately researched it and bought 3 lbs of gummy bears. They are delicious and alcoholic. Dirty drunk bears.

5. Buying two large boxes of Handisnacks “Cheese and Breadsticks”: um. amazing. And it seems I can only find them at Walmart now. Kroger only sells their shitty off brand. I know this because I was searching for them there and when I couldn’t find them, I loudly exclaimed, “NO ONE WANTS ME TO BE HAPPY!” and this woman and her toddler glared at me. Clearly she knows nothing though because if she did, she’d know that there is a DISTINCT taste difference in the cheese between Handisnacks and shitty off brands. Idiot.

Okay, so I’ll only bore you with my top 5 goodest ideas.  Now onto my top 5 baddest ideas:

BADDEST:

1. Self tanner: Enough said.

2. Reading an article about children who are psychopaths: Here’s the thing–they look just like regular kids (sometimes amazingly cuter) except they’ve pushed a 3 year old into a pool just because they want to see someone drown.

3. Vodka gummy bears: You get to a point where you don’t even know how many bears you’ve had and you’re just in this weird/drunk/hyper mood which quickly turns into a sugar coma and you wake up with dog hair on EVERYTHING.

4. Buying Real McCoy’s greatest hits:  This happened the same night I hung out with those drunk, dirty bears.

5. Putting my cat on a leash and taking him downtown: Adorable? YES. However, cats do not appreciate being put on leashes and he just ended up lying down on the sidewalk until I just carried him into a Baskin Robbins which pissed them off because it was gross and pissed Eddles off because it was cold.

 

 

Feel free to use any of my baddest ideas but I swear to God if you steal my Forever Puppies idea I will hire one of those psychopath kids to stalk you and make your demise look like an accident.  Those kids are smart. If anyone can do it, they can.

I still hate napkins.

So I just turned 25 and I finally feel like an adult. And not because I can rent a car. I don’t care about driving some orange kia rio.

Anyway, this dawned on me tonight when by mere coincidence, I happened to go see my parents on the same night my mom was making tacos for dinner. Every time she makes tacos she puts the shredded cheese in a bowl with a fork. Tonight I used that cheese fork instead of waiting until my mom had looked away so I could use my fingers. So what if I wasn’t used to using utensils and threw cheese on the floor? The point is I used that cheese fork. I am a real live adult and I have a list to prove it:

1. The olive jar: this goes along the same line as using the cheese fork. I have stopped cramming my fingers into the olive jar like some ape that’s smart enough that it can communicate by sign language that it’s hungry but too dumb to figure out how to get the food out of the packaging.

2. Washing my hands: within the past couple of years I have started washing my hands regularly. Without being reminded. I have also stopped running the sink so that people think I washed my hands and now I am actually getting my hands wet and soapy and using paper towels. Washing my hands used to be something I only did after asking myself the following questions: “how many animals did I pet today? Did I pet more than 1 cat? If so, how many? Did I let that dog lick my hand? Did I actually get to touch that lizard’s tail on the patio or did he swish it away too quickly?”

3. Washing my fruit: apparently that’s a thing now.

4. Making lists: I quietly made a list of reasons to share with you instead of shouting them to anyone who would listen.

5. Volume control: I don’t use my outdoor voice indoors anymore! Or at least I don’t as much.

So yes, I am a real live adult but I still hate napkins and REFUSE to get one on my own accord. I will wipe my hands on my pants until I die. Or my mom places a napkin in my lap for me. Whichever happens first.

Worst Date #2

So I needed a while to recover from reliving the horrors of going to a buffet on steak night. Anyway, so a friend of mine had briefly met Idiot #2 at a party and had gotten his number because she decided in her drunken state that this guy and I were made for each other. So really, this date is kind of my fault because I trusted her inebriated judgment and agreed to go on this blind date. Fortunately for me, he chose a Mexican restaurant close to my apartment and we met there so escaping was a viable option.

So I have barely gotten settled in my chair, when Idiot #2 says: “Just FYI, I got arrested this summer so I have a pending court date. But it wasn’t my fault. See here’s the thing: my buddy got some really good weed from this chick he was banging, she was like from Florida or Mexico or something. Anyway so like we’re gonna smoke it, you know? But then I realized I’d left my bowl at my other buddy’s house and we weren’t speaking because he punched me the other night when we were wasted. Like I almost fell in the bonfire so obviously I’m not going to speak to him. Anyway, so like I’m not gonna roll a joint because I didn’t have papers and besides my fingers are too big to tightly roll one. So like, we decide to drive to that gas station in Smyrna that those Indians run because they sell bowls. Well, they have to say glass pipe but we know what’s up. Right? So like we get the bowl and we’re heading back and my friend gets pulled over for speeding. Well, wouldn’t you know they had the drug dogs with them?! So of course they sniff it out and like because the bag was within my arm’s reach I get charged with possession as well! And it wasn’t even my bag of weed! And I mean, my friend drives a mustang, have you ever seen one of those?! EVERYTHING IS WITHIN ARM’S REACH IN A MUSTANG WHEN YOUR ARMS ARE AS MUSCULAR AND LONG AS MINE. So I get arrested because of my friend’s mistake! I just thought you should know.

Me: “Okay so let me get this straight: your friend gets some marijuana from this Floridian or Mexican and so you have plans to smoke this weed. So you go to the store and buy a ‘glass pipe’. Your friend then gets pulled over and you both get arrested for possession of the marijuana that you both intended to smoke and for the paraphernalia that you had bought with which to smoke it. And so you feel you have been treated unjustly because your arms are long and mustangs aren’t very spacious. Okay, so I see why this would not be your fault. Completely.”

Idiot #2: “YES. okay thank you! I knew not all women with big boobs were stupid!”

Me: “And I knew all men with mustangs and pending court dates weren’t trailer trash.”

He then spends the rest of the date cutting me off whenever I tried to answer a question that he asked and when it came time for the bill, he asks for a menu to look over the prices again and then states, “well, what you got wasn’t that expensive so I guess I could pay for it.”

As we’re leaving he gives me a hug and goes,”wow! This really wasn’t as terrible as I was expecting!”

Worst Date #1

So it’s a new year and I’m going to try and update this more often. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about horrible first dates I’ve been on and I think I’m going to do a series of entries about these bad dates because it’s time for a highlight reel of the best(worst) first date conversations. We’ll start with not completely terrible and end with the worst. Idiot #1, you’re up!

Idiot #1: “okay so I thought we could eat at Ryan’s, I have a coupon and it’s steak night.”

Me: “like the buffet? Honestly, I’d rather not. Buffets kind of make me sick with all the people around them, sticking their fingers in stuff and sneezing. I don’t need to go anywhere expensive, but I just really don’t want to go to Ryan’s. I mean, Applebee’s isn’t bad plus they have that three course meal for 11 dollars and one of the choices is steak.”

Idiot #1: “okay so you won’t eat anything if we go to Ryan’s?”

Me: “more than likely, no.”

Idiot #1: “okay cool. I just wanted to know before I paid for you to eat and then you didn’t eat anything. Let’s go there then! This is gonna be a cheap date!”

This is what I wish I’d said:

“Okay, first of all, what the hell? Have you never been on a date before in your life?! I’m not saying I need to be taken to the fanciest restaurant in town, but don’t take me to a buffet. You could even take me to Chili’s as long as I didn’t have to eat food that had been picked at and sneezed on right in front of me! I don’t care what they do in the kitchen, but when I see a 400 pound man with no shirt on under his overalls, licking the soft serve machine I’m going to have a bit of an issue making my own sundae. I mean, it’s our first date, do you really want to eat 4 plates of cobbler right in front of me?

Secondly, I don’t even know where to BEGIN discussing the fact that you flat out told me you were using a coupon. I don’t even like coupons! I don’t have a good reason but somewhere between the ‘omg I saved 49 cents on green beans by buying 7 cans of them!’ and the treating the grocery store like it’s a flea market with your, ‘well I know this coupon is expired but surely I can still get the dollar off of this milk of magnesia.’ couponing has rubbed me the wrong way. JUST STOP IT. and for God’s sake, please sort through your freezer bag of coupons PRIOR to getting in front of me in line. If I hear, ‘Sorry I’m taking so long, but I know it’s in here and after all it’s 50 cents off of Cheerios so I don’t want to miss out.’ one more time, I’m going to burn all the red plum coupon books in Tennessee. I’ll just give you the damn quarters! Ugh. But whatever, I suppose I’m not completely against being economical, but I mean if you had to use the coupon, at least wait until I’ve gone into the bathroom to call my friend and then let the server know. Call me old fashioned, but I think meal coupons are better reserved for family and friends.

Finally, did you feel like this was going well? Did you feel like a star when you ate two steaks in front of me and a ‘lobster’ tail while chewing with your mouth open? Did you think you’d aced the date when you said, ‘ugh…looks like my roommate’s gonna be pissed when I plow the bathroom later!’? Answer me honestly: when you go to bed tonight, in your heart are you genuinely going to believe you made good choices? I thought so. You know what? Ryan’s is only 10 miles from my apartment, I’ll just walk it. No big deal.”

This is what I said instead, “um, yep, I suppose it will be a cheap date.”

Pick a better dying wish!

So I’ve been watching a lot of the show Cake Boss on Netflix and while part of me is absolutely amazed at all the stuff he can make out of cake, there is an even bigger part of me that just dreams of smashing all of his cakes. Not because they’re not beautiful, but because I have this deep urge to make everything awkward or horrible. He just spends so much time making all these objects out of cake and I just want to ruin them all and be like, “WHAT. IT’S STILL CAKE.”

I spend the majority of my days thinking up horrific “what if” situations and ways I could make a situation completely uncomfortable and awkward. I’m always thinking, “what would happen if I called that anorexic girl a fat ass?” or “what if I brought up her dead dad at her birthday party?” I just have this unhealthy obsession with wanting to find out how someone would react to a completely horrible and tasteless comment or situation. I’ve been pretty good about never actually following through with any of my horrible thoughts, but the more uncomfortable I am in a situation, the more jokes I start making.

That’s the main reason I don’t want to become famous. Because when you’re famous you have to meet those make a wish foundation kids and if I get around a 12 year old who’s dying, I’m just afraid my discomfort would cue the jokes. Then I’d derail my entire career because I’d have spent the majority of making their wish of meeting me come true with an afternoon of uncomfortable giggling and long pauses. And obviously I wouldn’t blame myself for my career going down the toilet. I’d blame the make a wish kid because they provoked my humor and they should’ve known what they were getting into when they decided their life’s goal was to meet me.

I mean come on, you hypothetical make a wish kid that’s already making my life hell. Go have someone helicopter you up Mt. Everest or something. You’re dying for god’s sake! You’re going to sit in a room with my awkward ass when you could be having tea with Mickey Mouse? Because I’m not going to take you to Disneyworld unless you can get us to the front of the line because you’re dying. Otherwise, you’d be lucky if I took you to the playplace at McDonald’s.

And I won’t watch your shoes if we go there, you’re going to have to put them in the cubby just like EVERYONE ELSE. Mary J. Berger doesn’t watch ANYONE’S shit, make believe or not.

I thought there was a phantom…

I never need to go with my first train of thought. Ever. I don’t know why it took me 24 years to realize this but whatever, it did. The important thing is that I realized.

Anyway, I like to keep the little suction cup gps holder stuck on my windshield at all times but the past few months I’ve been noticing that it always ends up in my console. So today I decided it was of the utmost importance to call Rob at work as he is in my car a lot and maybe he’d brought some phantom in the camry with him who lives to frustrate me…

Rob: “Representative Evans’ office, this is Rob. How may I help…”

Me: “yes yes, you know it’s me, you have caller id. Listen, I’ve got something really important to discuss with you.”

Rob: “right now?? Can it wait? I’m off of work in 30 minutes.”

Me: “no it absolutely cannot. Have you been moving my circle-y thing?”

Rob: “what?”

Me: “you know. Clementine’s cradle. It’s circle-y and sucky and lives on the windshield. Or it’s supposed to which is why I’m calling. Have you been moving it or do you have a phantom attached to you?”

Rob: “oh. The gps. Yes, I’ve been taking it off your windshield because you don’t want someone to break in and steal it.”

Me: “OH THANK GOD. I did NOT want to have to call California psychics. Do you know they charge by the minute?”

Rob: “wait. Why would you not think to ask me first? And if anything if you thought there was a spirit why wouldn’t you call a priest instead of a psychic?”

Me: “now you’re just being ridiculous. The psychic would tell me if there was a phantom in the car and THEN I’d call the priest to get rid of it. Obviously.”

Rob: “how can you say ‘obviously’ and act like you have any knowledge in this area? You’re acting like this has happened to you before.”

Me: “what? I have lots of knowledge about this. Just because it hasn’t happened to me doesn’t mean I don’t know everything about it.”

Rob: “no, actually that’s exactly what that means. Anyway, I’m more concerned about the fact that your first thought was to call California psychics, then a priest, and then me. We drive your car all the time, clearly i would be the culprit.”

Me: “well I was trying not to assume guilt on your part. Forgive me for being gracious. Also I forgot about you.”

Rob: “So let me get this straight. We have been dating for 2 years, I am the only person you drive in your car, we take your car places together at least 3 times a week and when you discover something is going awry in your car, you forget about me and your first thought is to call California psychics?”

Me: “they do extensive testing on their psychics to make sure they’re legit.”

Rob: “any place that charges by the minute is not a legitimate operation.”

Me: “whatever. The bottom line is that you need to stop putting Clementine’s cradle in the console.”

Rob: “I will not stop doing that.”

Me: “Fine.”

Wait, do you really not know?

So my siblings and I went to see the midnight showing of Harry Potter the other night and this little 13 year old boy named Logan sits next to me and starts chattering at me like a magpie. He opens with, “I know a joke about Parkinson’s disease but I’m not going to tell you because it’s bad.” Okay? As opposed to a GOOD joke about parkinson’s? What exactly would that be? And I mean, are we talking about bad as in “that’s so wrong” or bad as in, “Michael j. Fox was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease and wrote some books and maybe will be cured by stem cell research someday…” I just think people should be more specific.

Anyway, then his aunt, who is like 15 years old, gets into the conversation by leaning over and saying to me, “Hey girl, if he starts bothering you, just hit him.” I was like, “Um, pretty sure that’s a felony and I am not going to jail on Harry Potter night.” to which she replies, “Ah, he’s 13, he can handle it…it’ll be okay.” I wasn’t aware that there was an appropriate age in society for when you could hit someone. I wasn’t even using the open arm rest in between us for fear of accidentally brushing into him and getting kid germs so I’m certainly not going to slap the shit out of him with my bare hand. I don’t think she was even supposed to be telling people he was 13 because he told me that his mother made him pretend to be 12 because she refused to pay for an adult ticket for him.

At this point, his mother and sister sit down. Well, as Logan keeps talking to me, despite my polite cues that I am done with the conversation, his mother keeps giving me a dirty look like I’M a pervert. Okay, first of all, lady, your outfit is so revealing you might as well have not worn anything at all so don’t look at me like I’M the pervert. Secondly, I have a rule in life that I never start conversations with children that I do not know. When you’re a 24 year old woman at a midnight Harry potter premiere, the absolute last thing you’re going to do is willingly strike up a conversation with a strange 13 year old. That’s the first step to being falsely accused as some sort of offender, having to introduce yourself to your entire neighborhood and keep your porch lights off at Halloween so no one comes within 10 feet of your door. So yeah, don’t look at me like I’m not keeping my creepiness in check. I may have over 300 pictures of my cats but I’m no Mary Kay Letourneau.

Anyway, Logan begins talking to his sister about some other show they have 2 tickets to and he says, “Oh great, so me and mom can go…or you and me can go.” and his sister says, “Or me and mom can go.” apparently this was the wrong thing to say because Logan looks at her and coldly says, “If you leave me alone in the house, I will tear it to ruins. I will TEAR IT TO RUINS.” Well shit, that little psycho is serious. He’s gonna write bad jokes about Parkinson’s disease on the wall and then burn the place to the ground all because he’s been left alone. Usually I just watch Netflix or something when I’m alone, but I guess his method works too.

Finally, as the movie starts, I look at my siblings and say, “What are we seeing again?” and they politely laugh because it really wasn’t funny. Minutes pass and I feel a hard poke in my ribs and Logan loudly whispers, “Wait, do you really not know? Was that a serious question? Because we’re seeing Harry Potter…” nope, I just got on fandango a month in advance and ordered 3 tickets to a random movie and then waited in line with people dressed as owls and house elves just because i wanted to surprise myself.

On the plus side, I now see why 13 is the appropriate age to hit someone.