Archives for March 2013

Fiction Friday: The Power of a Child

This is the next in a series of short fiction pieces that all mesh together. Feel free to catch up with the previous installments or start here.

  1. Broken
  2. The Failure
  3. The Letters
  4. The Rock
  5. Wandering Thoughts
  6. Just Coffee

The Power of a Child

“I…have…to…I have to go, Jack. I’m sorry. I’m really really sorry.” Those words cut like a knife to his heart. She was leaving. She was just. Fucking. Leaving. She climbed into the car and drove away. Jack didn’t know if he’d ever see Mel again. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to call her. To tell her that his heart was breaking. To tell her how his best friend just…vanished.

He had planned to kiss her. He was going to ask her to prom. And he knew he would say yes. They were like two peas in a pod. He was going to tell her he loved her. That he had always loved her. That he wanted to be with her. She was the one.

But she was gone.

He stood there. For a minute? An hour? A day? He couldn’t be sure. At some point he stumbled home, and crashed onto his bed, alone with his thoughts. I’m all alone. Alone in the world. No friends. No Mel. No one. I’m worthless. I’ll never find anyone else. Fuck this shit.

A bleak future paraded itself through Jack’s mind for days? hours? weeks? The thoughts proceeded to get darker and deeper, until those same worries, doubts, and fears became dangerous. Terrifying. A vision of a kitchen knife flashed in his eyes. The gun in his father’s safe. He could see it so clearly. An option. A way out. The idea laid itself out in his mind, so perfectly, that he could feel its potential release.

Jack opened his eyes, and for the first time, noticed his six-year-old sister, Leah, standing over him, gazing nervously.

“Jackie?”

He looked at her.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look okay. You look sad. Do you want to watch Tangled? That makes me happy.”

He looked at Leah, with a half grimace, pulled her into his chest and hugged her. Jack took in the scent of his baby sister. Felt her warmth. Soaked up her love for him. Without question. Without knowing. Just. Love.

Love.

“Jackie, are you crying?” The sound of the little girl, her concern so blatant, brought him back to reality. He pulled away from her. Looked down at the little raggedy doll in her tiny hand. Gazed into her big blue eyes. Jack saw the fear. The worry. He knew that he needed this little girl more than ever before.

“Leah, can you get mom? Now?” She looked at him, as if she were trying to see what he was thinking, but not quite sure what to do with what she saw.

“OK.” The girl hopped off the bed and ran out of the room, shouting, “Mooooooom!!!!! Jackie needs you!”

**********************************************************************************

“Good morning, Jack. This is our fifteenth session. Can you tell me why you’re here?”

“Because I have had thoughts of taking my own life.”

“Good. And can you tell me the last time you had suicidal thoughts.”

“Two weeks ago.”

“Was that in our session?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember what we talked about?”

“Melanie.”

“And did we talk about her the whole time?”

“No. We also talked about Leah. And my family. And how I was not alone in this.”

“That’s right, Jack. And is Melanie the reason for your thoughts?”

“No. She was a catalyst.”

“Her actions were a catalyst, Jack. Her actions.”

“Right. Her actions.”

“How are you feeling today?”

“I’m okay. Leah is in a school play today. I’m going to see it with my parents. They’re doing some musical play about a tiny Christmas tree. Then I’m going to meet my cousin Steve for lunch. I’ve got a full plate, and I’m looking forward to the day.”

“That’s great, Jack. Tell me again about the decision to ask for help.”

“Leah. I didn’t want her to lose her brother. She just kept looking at me with those big eyes. Like I mattered. She cares so much. She’s so young. And innocent. Melanie used to be like that when I met her. Sweet. Caring. I don’t know what happened to her. She makes me so fucking angry. Whenever I start thinking about her. I know I’m not alone, but she makes me want to scream. I can’t stop thinking about how pissed off I am. She left, like a fucking bitch. A scared little brat, who didn’t have the nerve to tell me what the hell was going on.”

“Jack. We were talking about Leah.”

“Oh. Right. Leah.”

**********************************************************************************

Fearless Fiction Femmes Fatales

The Fiction Prompt

The Ides of March — Your character is betrayed, hardcore, by a friend. The relationship is forever altered, “killing” a little piece inside, of our protagonist, yet empowering her/him despite the damage.Imagery, dialogue, movement…800-1500 words.

Go read some of my friends, the Fearless Fiction Femmes Fatales and their blogging/writing/fiction/awesomeness.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Wonder Twin Powers Activate!

My brother and I are Irish twins. This means that our parents were super busy getting busy. And 10 months and 2 days after the birth of their first daughter, their only son joined the world. Bow chicka bow wow.

Reasons My Brother is Cooler Than Your Brother

My brother is awesome

No Mom, we aren’t ACTUALLY smoking cigars… (Yes, we are)

  • Even though I jumped on his head when he was a baby, he’s still really fucking smart. He reads voraciously, and plays strategy games, and is pretty much awesome.
  • He’s one of my favorite drinking buddies. Right up there with my dad. I’ll never forget, when I turned 21, he would always be at home waiting for us to bring the after party. 10 months later, he started bringing the after party, himself.
I have an awesome brother and sister

He’s a secret softie, you know…

  • Even though he wants me to use a crazy fucking amount of profanity when I talk about him, deep down, he’s totally got a sweet heart. (Go read that. It’s really cute.)
  • In high school, my brother was a participant in most of our shenanigans (including packing a huge crowd into Melba Toast and sneaking back into the house coming home from ‘da club).
  • We have matching tattoos. We got crazy drunk one St. Patrick’s Day and decided that we were going to do it. And several months later, sober, we still thought it was a great idea. And we did it. Whenever we show off our tats, one of us will say, “wonder twin powers, activate!”
Irish Twin Tattoos

The Irish Claddagh symbolizes friendship, loyalty, and love. Cupla is Gaelic for twins.

  • He’s a total fashion whore. Whenever I need a new outfit, I take him shopping. Because he’s honest. And tells me when I look awesome and when I look stupid. And sometimes I don’t really care either way.
My brother is a fashion whore.

He put together that entire birthday outfit. At the mall. He pulled the shirt, the jacket, and the belt from different racks and said, “Go put this on. Don’t fucking argue. Just do it.”

Gratuitous Irish Twin Photos

November 2007 032

Awesome Brother

Hangover

The twins that party together get hungover together

NOLA

For my birthday, I told him, “I don’t want a gift. I want you to come to NOLA with me.” And he did.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Four Leaf Clovers: Rare, My Irish Arse

Garden of Four Leaf Clovers

Yep, I said it. Four leaf clovers are about as rare to me as a McDonald’s. Fucking everywhere. Or at least easy to find.

You see, somehow, the front yard at my parents house is like a garden of four leaf clovers. Shamrocks, if you will. Ever since I was a little kid, all we had to do was peer through the patches of clovers for a minute or two to find one. Search for 10 minutes, and we’d be stocked up for all of our friends.

You think I’m making this shit up? When the ground thaws, and stuff starts growing again in these icy suburbs, I’ll take pictures and prove it to you. For now, you’ll have to take me at my words. Which should be enough, dammit!

The Three Leaf Clover on My Ankle

When I got the clover tattoo on my ankle (my second tattoo), I had several reasons for it. It was Labor Day 2008, and my grandma had passed away that spring. My family’s Irish pub had closed that summer. I needed to feel empowered. So I went, all by myself like a big girl, without telling anyone, to get a tattoo.

Three Leaf Clover Tattoo

Why a three leaf clover instead of four? I’m not that lucky.

More Irish Shenanigans to come this week, kids. Get excited!

Do you have any tattoos? Are they symbols? Tell me about them! If you don’t have one, would you? What would you get?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

How I Embarrassed Myself in Front of The Bloggess for a Good Cause (In 500 Words or Less) (with photos)

I’ll get to the point fast. The good cause? Katie’s impending 30th birthday. But the how I embarrassed myself part in 500 words or less? Here goes:

(Note: I’m speaking really fast in my mind, so I highly recommend that you read it equally as fast in your mind.)

So I was excited to meet Jenny Lawson, and I had a plan to get her to sign a book for Katie, my butter-churning sister from a past life who also happens to WRITE a BOOK blog. And through her book blog (which she began after I gave her a guest post on my blog when she was going by the pseudonym Penny, for like 5 minutes) I discovered Jenny’s book, Let’s Pretend this Never Happened, which I read and laughed hysterically at. Katie also was the instigator in directing me to The Bloggess’ Blog. And insisting that I comment and follow through to the other blogs from other people who comment. And thus began my whirlwind trip into a blogging community.

And so I practiced telling Jenny all about how Katie was my best friend ever. And how she wanted to be there. And how I was surprising her with the book. And basically rambled everything that I just wrote in the previous paragraph to poor Jenny. And of course, I said “hi” like 15 times. And I told her she was “fantastic” like 15 times. And apologized for being such a freak, because I was so nervous. And then I forgot to say anything witty. Or clever. Or adorable. Or intelligent, really. I didn’t even tell her about my best friend Ally, who was RIGHT THERE, pulling the camera/phone away from my shaking hand so that she could take pictures of me and Jenny.

The Bloggess Book Tour

Ally and I waiting for the arrival of The Bloggess

The Bloggess Book Tour

While we were waiting, Katie sent me this gem of a photo with the text: So sad that I’m not there! (She had NO IDEA I had a book to be signed for her!

The Bloggess Book Tour

Check out the sweet metal chicken reading a mini book!

The Bloggess Book Tour

She’s like, the most awesome person ever. I love her more now than I did before.

The Bloggess Book Tour

While waiting for my number (when Jenny would sign the books) I met the coolest people ever! I want that hair sooo bad! And the skirt. Apparently she wore the skirt the last time they met Jenny. How fun are they?

The Bloggess Book Tour

After I rambled about Katie for 5 minutes, AND showed the sad face text picture…she wrote this!

The Bloggess Book Tour

And then, just to show you how awesome Jenny is…she was all, “let’s pretend she’s here!” and put her arm around invisible Katie.

That Jenny Lawson is one cool chick. I’ve got more Adventures with The Bloggess posts to come.

So Blog Friends, have you ever been embarrassed in front of someone you admire?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Sneaking In is WAY Harder than Sneaking Out

I thought I’d talk to you guys about sneaking out. Or in. Or doing some type of “sneaking.” Me? I don’t think I’ve ever snuck out. I was a good kid. My mama raised me right.  (If you didn’t read that one, I highly recommend it.) I didn’t drink or do drugs. I didn’t do too many crazy things. I mean, I was a teenager at some point, so I did SOME stupid shit… (Like piling a lot of kids into my Explorer) but I was overall a pretty good girl.

One weekend, though. Columbus Day Weekend. My senior year of high school. My brother and I were left to our own devices. Sort of. Because there was Felix. Grandpa. G. However you sliced it, our 85 year old grandfather still lived with us. But my brother and I had big plans that weekend. My best friend (who was also my brother’s pal) was going to sleep over. And we were going to go dancing at Zero Gravity (the juice bar that we weren’t allowed to go to-because there were drugs there…even though I had already been there a few times over the previous year. Sleepovers were great.)

Sneaking In

Elizabeth’s mom had a pretty high regard for me among most of her friends, so it was easy to say she was coming to my house. Neither of our parents knew that there would be dancing at the club. (Or should I say in da club? What do the cool kids say these days?) Our other friend Rae came over to join us, though she wasn’t planning on sleeping over.

We got ready by dressing in tiny spandex skorts and skimpy sparkle shirts, said goodbye to G and the four of us hopped into Melba Toast (the Explorer). We made our way to Zero Gravity (which seemed SO FAR AWAY-and really I live like 10 minutes from it now).

We danced our little hearts out. Warded off dirty older (like 19-year-old old) guys by dancing with each other. My brother was falling asleep on the bench, so he took the keys and went to sleep in the car. When the club closed, we made our way out (around one I think), and headed home.

I’ve drawn a little “art” to demonstrate how we got home.

Going out Dancing and coming home to a locked houseSneaking into the house is hard when you're a teenager...Sneaking into the house is hard when you're a teenager...Sneaking into the house is hard when you're a teenager...Sneaking into the house is hard when you're a teenager...

The stupid dog was going to ruin EVERYTHING.

Sneaky!

Yes, I would leave him to believe I was just in the laundry room…for God only knows why. Real bright, Chris.

Tricky Grandpas and Tricky Granddaughters

He mumbled a lot of shit under his breath about not believing a word I said, but he went back to bed anyways. After I was assured that he was back in his room, I “let the dog out” in order to let my brother and Elizabeth in. We went to bed and all was (sort of) well.

When your grandfather still doesn't believe you

G mentioned it again when my parents came home, but I just kept brushing it off. Hopefully, he knew I still loved him even though I lied through my teeth…and let’s be honest. I’m a TERRIBLE fucking liar.

How about you, Blog Friends? Ever snuck in or out? How’d that work out for you?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Fiction Friday: Just Coffee

Greetings Blog Friends! I’ve got a lot to tell you about meeting The Bloggess…but you’ll have to wait until next week, because today is Fiction Friday! Enjoy!

Oh right…if you’re new…you can catch up here:

  1. Broken
  2. The Failure
  3. The Letters
  4. The Rock
  5. Wandering Thoughts

Just Coffee

Coffee. It’s just coffee. Jack kept repeating this to himself, as he nervously stepped into the coffee shop. Coffee. 20 minutes. You don’t have to be here. You’re in control. It’s just coffee.

Jack peered around the cafe, looking for her. Scanning the whole of the place, he finally spotted her sipping a cup of something in the corner. Her hair was shorter now, her facial features more defined. Melanie Jane McDaniels. All grown up. Her feet tucked under her body, she shifted uneasily in the chair as she recognized him. She stood, and he could see the swell of her unborn child. Jack shuffled his way to her, his heart racing, palms sweating, head pounding…anxiety. Coffee. It’s just coffee.

They stared at each other for what seemed like eternity. Coffee, dumbass. Go get coffee. Wait. Say hi first.

“Hi.” Dammit. She beat me to it.

“Hi.” He leaned into her…not sure whether hugging her was appropriate. She stepped awkwardly toward him, into the hug. They both wrapped their arms upward, knocking into each other, before settling into a strangely comfortable hug. And just like that, the tension disappeared. The hug became more natural. Melanie melted into Jack. He closed his eyes and remembered, breathing in her scent.

“I missed you, Jack.”

“I’m…going to go grab coffee. I’ll be right back.” He pulled away from her. Get it under control. Coffee. I need coffee.

He returned to the nook she was sitting in, two couches perpendicular to each other. He sat down on the empty couch. She was curled into the corner facing him

“Jack, I’m so sorry. For everything. I know that I can’t go back and change things…but I truly missed you. For so long. It’s been…crazy.”

“I’m married.” He blurted out. Like she didn’t already know.

“I know. I’m so happy for you. Tell me about her.” Melanie was shaking. He could see it when she held the cup to her lips. It was wavering uncontrollably.

“She’s amazing, Mel. She’s a breath of fresh air. She’s everything. Her name is Claire. She… She’s beautiful. A doctor. A pediatrician, actually. She’s so smart, Mel. I could listen to her talk about new technologies and science for days.”

Melanie smiled, “She sounds wonderful. I’d love to meet her.”

“You should.”

“So you’re a doctor, too?”

“A nurse, actually. When Mom got sick, her nurses interacted with her so much more than the doctors. I admired them. Their patience. Their kindness. They knew the whole family, and made sure that we knew what was going. There was this one nurse, the only male nurse in the bunch, and he always made me laugh. It was like it was his job or something to make me smile.

One day, I asked him why he became a nurse and not a doctor. He told me that it was the path he was meant to take. And I knew that it was the path I was meant to take, too. If that makes sense.”

“Perfectly.”

“What about you? I mean, I’ve been rambling about my life…I haven’t really heard anything about your life.”

“I got into restaurant management. I love it. I love my staff and the food. Oh, God, Jack the food is amazing. My chef is a culinary genius. You should come visit sometime. With Claire. The city is beautiful in the fall…I’d really like that, actually.”

“That would be…nice.”

The conversation seemed easier than he thought it would be…but the elephant in the room was staring right at them. Should I mention it? How would I bring it up? Should I…? No.

It’s just coffee.

**********************************************************************************

Fearless Fiction Femmes Fatales

That’s all for this week! If you’re jonesin’ for more fiction, check out my companions in the Fearless Fiction Femmes Fatales. Some have written fiction today, and others have not, but they are all excellent writers, so check them out!

The Fiction Prompt

Our metaphorical spring is coming ever closer although things / conditions are still mostly dormant. The theme this week is: Recovery. The “ice” has thawed a bit, revealing your character’s recovery of a memory; or s/he has recovered (this is not sought, it just appears, like a plant poking through the hard, cold earth) something that was once lost; or experiences an old habit in a new way? Better? Good? You decide. Oh: mostly dialogue.
 

Today’s Blog Post is Dedicated to…

Molly Field of Grass Oil

Lily digitally introduced me to Molly and soon after, I joined her crew of Fearless Fiction Femmes Fatales. Not only is Molly an incredibly talented blogger, writer, and creative, she’s a wonderfully inspiring human being. She gave up Facebook and Twitter for Lent (don’t worry, I informed her that Sundays don’t count in Lent, so she can check in for Fiction Friday updates on Sundays.) She’s documenting the journey on her blog, and she’s just overall awesome. So go visit Molly.

Tell me Blog Friends, What do you want to see happening with Jack and Mel?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Today is the Day All My Dreams Come True…OK, Maybe Not All of Them. Maybe Just One. But I’m EXCITED.

That title actually has nothing to do with this post. It was just necessary. Because today is the big day! The BLOGGESS. Is in. Chicago. Ish. But since I live in Chicago-ish, it works out mighty well. BECAUSE I’M GOING TO MEET HER TODAY! And I’ve got some out of town guests that I’m dragging to the reading. Because that’s how I roll.

As I mentioned on Monday, this whole week is dedicated to bloggers. And today. Today is a whole post. Dedicated to one blogger. Because she’s that awesome. And it’s perfectly fitting. You see, I found her blog through the comments section of The Bloggess (This is how I found a lot of the blogs I read, actually. You should try it, if you haven’t.) And then she became my very first non-real-life-fan/friend. And she’s one of my BBBs (Blogging Best Buddies). And she’s fantastic. And she sent me the coolest Christmas “card” ever. Because it was a card. And a magnet. AND A FREAKIN’ PAINTING!

This Blog Post is Dedicated to…

Lily from It’s a Dome Life

As previously mentioned, Lily was my first non-real-life-friend to find the blog, probably because I stalked her a little bit after I found her blog on The Bloggess. And it was the greatest day ever. Because she’s sweet as pie. And funny. And TALENTED. She turned her art into magnets. And told me that she was sending one with her Christmas card…

The art of Lillian Connelly magnet

The magnet, up close. Isn’t it AMAZING? You can’t buy this one on Etsy, but there are others…Go now and buy a magnet.

The art of Lillian Connelly on my fridge

This is where the magnet lives…on the side of my fridge. Where I keep all of the important stuff…you know…cards and invitations and things… 🙂

But Lily didn’t just send me a magnet. Nope. I had to go to the post office to pick up the package (this was before my mail lady was cool), and I kept thinking to myself, “This does not look like a magnet sized package.”

I couldn’t wait to get home to open the package…(are we seeing a pattern here?)…so there I was in the car and I discovered this beautiful watercolor of a sunset. (She calls it, “Sunset from the Driveway.”)

Sunset From the Driveway

Isn’t she talented?

Of course, it took me FOREVER to get a frame and put it on the wall…because I am a little crazy and take my sweet time making decisions. Plus it was Christmas time, and my apartment looked like Christmas threw up…so I waited. And finally, I found the right frame (for now, until I can custom frame it). And now it lives in our bedroom. The first art in our home.

Sunset From the Driveway by Lillian Connelly

We wake up to a sunset every morning. How cool is that?

Thank you Lily. For your talent. For inspiring me. For being my friend. You’re amazing.

And to everyone else: Go check out Lily’s blog and her art.

Blog Friends: Are you a blogger? Tell me about your blog. Or do you have a favorite blogger? Tell me about him or her. What makes his/her blog awesome?

 

 

 

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Secret Santa Sans Santa

Sorry for not posting yesterday, friends! I had a lovely trek into the big city during the winter snow “storm” and think I may have landed a pretty spectacular job. But enough excuses…This was supposed to fly yesterday…

Some of you may remember way back in the fall, when I joined Pocketful of Joules and some other bloggers in a Fall Secret Swap. Much like Secret Santa, we were secretly paired with another blogger, and sent them a little token of joy to brighten their day. Because EVERYONE loves mail. Don’t you?

I had a lot of fun with it the first time around (in which I sent The B(itch) a funky Chi-town poster and I received an AWESOME Nyan Cat scarf from Chewylicious), and decided definitely for sure, I was in for Round 2.

I forgot to give Joules my new contact information, so the package was delivered to the parents’ house this weekend. I was SUPER excited. When I finally got to open it up, I was even more stoked. A really awesome journal greeted me inside the mailing envelope. At first I thought, OMG. This matches my mug. The mug that was ALSO a Secret Santa gift from a couple of years ago that my dear friend, Carla, gave me (crazy right?)

inspirational coffee mug

Love this mug.

Upon further inspection when I arrived home (yeah, I may have opened it while driving home from the parents house…I mean…I was at a stoplight, MOM. Stop worrying), I realized that it was not a match, but still a complement to the mug…

inspirational journal

AWESOME.

OK, so I’m one of those people that is SUPER easy to buy for. I love EVERYTHING. Inspire me. Make me laugh. I’m easily distracted by sparkles and fluff and pink stuff. I would be entertained with a refrigerator box. That being said…This journal is AWESOME. My swapper done good.

She even wrote a little note on the inside (as anyone should do when they send a book or journal).

Journal message

Don’t worry, I’m a procrastinator too! And I have a lot of dreams…quirky ones and normal ones! 🙂 I hope they all come true too.

Seriously, I was the last swapper to mail out her gift last time. I felt bad, but it was REALLY hard to find the perfect gift for Heather [The B(itch)], a Chicago native.

Now, I’m supposed to GUESS who my swapper was…

After careful consideration, and sneakily stalking the locations of the potential Secret Swappers…I narrowed it down to Baby Shmizz and Mom-spirational…

And my guess is….

MOM-SPIRATIONAL

Let me know if I’m right!

Thank you so much to my swapper! I love the gift and can’t wait to use it!

Today’s Post is Dedicated to…

And you thought I would forget. I told you on Monday, that I was dedicating each blog post this week to a blogger or two and today is no different. (Yay for me meeting The Bloggess on Thursday!!!)

Pocketful of Joules

I was introduced to Joules, through Katie, when she started the blogger swap last fall. I love the blog, because she’s SO MUCH MORE than a mom-blogger. She has all sorts of crafty DIY home improvement projects, honest product reviews, an affection for marshmallows that can only be matched by my obsession with cheese…and she’s hilarious with a side of road rage. So, go visit Joules. And send her marshmallows. Because if someone were shamelessly plugging me, I’d want them to tell you to send cheese.

Happy Hump Day, Y’all! No WTF today! Just pure bloggie joy. And sloths.

Wednesday Sloth

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Monday Memories: Melba Toast and Me

I know. I know. I KNOW. You’re sitting there thinking, Melba Toast? Really, Chrissy? But there’s a lot going on in this post…so bear with me.

The Bloggess and Me

FIRST, this week is a very exciting week for me. In honor of the excitement of my meeting Jenny Lawson (AKA The Bloggess) on Thursday and creepily stalking her err…. making her my new best friend getting her to autograph a book at a bookstore 10 minutes from my apartment…I am dedicating this whole week to just a few of the bloggers I love (If you don’t make it into a post, this doesn’t mean I love you any less…I had to go with the bloggers that fit into my posts, yo. Promise.)

Get to the Fucking Point, Chrissy.

SECOND, today is Monday Memories and April from First Time Mom and Dad has created today’s topic: My First Car and Joyrides. So visit April and Lily from It’s a Dome Life (do not fret, Lily–your dedication is coming) for more memories of joy (rides)!

Monday Memories

 My First Car

When I was 16, I opened up a very lightweight box on Christmas morning from my parents and my grandfather. Inside was a slip of paper that said, “BAM! You’re getting a car!” OK, it may not have said BAM. But it was awesome. I had dreams of a cute little Jeep Wrangler…but those dreams would not come to fruition. Even better, of course, was stumbling upon this white 1994 Ford Explorer (in 1999) and even though it had a funny smell, I fell in love with it. I felt taller, stronger, and more awesome in this giant beast of a vehicle.

Obviously, I had to have it. And it, I did have. Throughout the rest of high school, this beast was recognized as different variations of “the Pink Mobile” thanks to the ever-changing, but always hot pink license plate frames, pink fuzzy dice, and furry pink steering wheel cover.

This car was the greatest thing for a high school kid, but it was also the worst thing. Back in those days, we 16-year-olds didn’t have a graduated license program. We just got the license and drove. Wherever. Whenever. With however many kids could fit in the vehicle. (MOM, stop reading here. No seriously…you don’t want to read this part.) For the record, in a Ford Explorer, that’s a lot.

(Mom. I’m not joking.) I’ll never forget my parents driving my car to an away football game (I was a cheerleader) so that my pals and I could go out afterward. They asked who else was driving, and I listed off a couple of names, as a huge crowd of my brother’s and my friends followed us to the parking lot. As my parents got into their own car, several of our friends hid behind the explorer, waiting for the P’s to drive away. At the very least, there were 8 of us. The five in the picture below, plus 3 more that I know for sure, and 2-3 maybes. It may have been 11 people in my vehicle that night.

my first car fit a lot of kids in it

This was that night. Don’t mind my terrible bangs.

On the plus side MOM (if you’re still reading…), I yelled at them all to shut the fuck up so that I could drive safely to the bowling alley. And they listened. Mostly.

It was a lovely car.

My first car

The Explorer is on the right, next to her replacement, Dawn, the Sunfire. My dad drove the Explorer after I was done with her.

Always Name Your Own Car Right Away

Where does Melba Toast come in? OH. RIGHT. In college, I met Katie. And Katie had this weird thing about naming…EVERYTHING. She named her plants. She named her car. She talked to her cereal in the morning. She was basically awesome with a side of awesome.

One Fourth of July, while sitting in my house, eating taco dip and potato salad, Katie decided to name my future child Melba Toast. (She had already named our BFF Deb’s future child “Stumpy.”) I told her that was a horrible name for a child. So, then, she opted to name my car Melba Toast instead. Just like she named Deb’s car, Julio. And somehow it stuck. I tried to fight it, but Deb and Katie kept calling her Melba Toast. And giggling uncontrollably. And until her death (sentence to the junkyard in 2009), she was lovingly referred to as Melba Toast. And I learned the all important lesson that you should always name your car right away…or anyone else has the right to.

Today’s Post is Dedicated to…(Drum Roll Please…)

Katie from Words for Worms

Katie is my butter-churning best friend from a past life. My best friend in real life (yes, REAL Freakin LIFE), Katie writes a brilliant book blog and sometimes sidetracks with quirky stories of her quirky husband…and she has a penguin problem obsession. But she’s awesome…and this post is a little about her…so dedicating it to her was easy! Also, she is nominated right along next to me (AND THE FREAKIN BLOGGESS) for Best Writing of a Weblog as a Bloggies Finalist.

AND

April from First Time Mom and Dad

One of my BBBs (Blogging Best Buddies) who is also nominated for a Bloggie (Best New Weblog!), April came up with today’s topic. She writes a blog about being a mom for the first time, and her hilarious husband who Photoshops their baby onto the funniest pictures. Product reviews, giveaways, and laugh out loud stories…you’ll love her honesty and humor.

 

Bloggies Finalist
Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Brian Shares Saturday: Because Baby Polar Bears Make Me Cry

So Brian shared this adorable baby polar bear video.

And then I fell in love with the baby polar bear, Knut. And clicked to watch more videos of said pet polar bear… And ended up watching this video…that made me cry. (WARNING: This video MIGHT make you cry.)

If you watched it, you can see why I cried. If you didn’t watch it…Spoiler alert: Knut dies from some type of brain damage…which is likely why he was abandoned by his mother and had to be raised by humans.

Saddest. Thing. Ever. And it was all Brian’s fault for showing me the cute baby polar bear learning how to walk. He has since learned not to send me videos of cute animals unless he has checked out what I’ll click into next.

And now, some Saturday humor to cheer you up after the sad video:

Seven Deadly Sins? SLOTH?

Sloth and seven deadly sins

Right? I mean, seriously…does this little guy look like he’s deadly? Or sinning? I didn’t think so either.

sloth and flowers

Chrissy and Brian

kangaroo animated gif
Brian sent me this animated gif…and I was like “Bwahahahaha! That’s you and me! Guess which one is you?”

And Brian was all, “Hey!” Except that he knew it was true. Because I’m a bit spazzy. And I totally steal his food. Often. Especially when it’s Portillo’s cheese fries. I’m just saying.

The Zombie Security Protection Plan

Brian discovered this as the perfect way to protect our future house from unwanted zombies…

zombie protection

Don’t you want one too?

That’s all for today, folks! Tomorrow I’m running into Lake Michigan to raise money for the Special Olympics. If you have a dollar or two to spare, consider donating it through my Polar Plunge Fundraising Page. Thanks!

 

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!