#1

Fun Fact: I HATE the phrase "curl up with a good book."

The lunatic is in my head

I've been having a lot of weird rants in my head. At night I post brain-blogs that are brilliant and sad and amazing, and forgotten by the next day.

I'm having a hard time with...well, time. I've been sad and bogged down with the thought of growing old, and especially of those around me getting older. I think sometimes I would prefer NOT to outlive anyone I care about. It's something that has always haunted me. I remember being young, at night on the top bunk trying to fall asleep. I would think of the universe, and get scared trying to understand what was beyond earth, the solar system, where it ends and what it is all held in. I would thinking about my parents getting old and it would make me cry. It would scare me and I would dust it out of my mind, like a Disney cartoon. I would imagine filing cabinets open and cluttered, with cob webs and dust. Then I would imagine myself going inside my brain with a duster, and cleaning out the clutter. Flushing all the sad and bad thoughts. I think it may be an actual cartoon segment. It worked, and I still do it to this day. I did it last night, over and over with thoughts of age, and waste, and parents, and Bud.

Sometime I can get really wrapped up in things, things that are much better put aside in order to keep sane. It's time, and I don't know how to handle it. Or understand it. I don't want to think about it.

I wish there really were a fountain of youth...

Halloweenie

Before I get into my boring life, I would like to do a little update on my brothers not-so-boring life. My bro is in Paris right now, on a month long tour through all those wonderful places with his band. I am so excited for him, I can't even describe it. It's an awesome feeling knowing my own bro is doing such super cool things. Yesterday I heard the Ford commercial that playes bro's said band. When it came on, I freaked. I flipped. I flapjacked. It was like that scene in That Thing You Do! when the boys here their song on the radio for the first time. I jumped off the couch, threw the tutu I was working on to the floor, and screamed. I made lots of squeeky noises until I called my Mom. I had to repeat my story to her about three times until she could actually understand me. It was a proud moment.

Now, on to my boring life...
I'm sitting here on the couch in an owl costume waiting for my co-worker to come over and do my make-up (one of the perks of working at a salon). I'm the owl from the Tootsie Roll commercial this year, and my main man the tootsie roll pop. (Pervy inuendo not intended) I made my costume myself, brown tights, brown/black/white/yellow tutu with feathers, black shirt, brown vest with feathers, round glasses, and a grad cap. The costume is pretty great. except for the vest. I didn't bother measuring it and just played it by ear. I ended up with a vest fot for an infant. It's so tiny, but I am wearing it anyway. Whatev, I'll pretend I made it this way on purpose.
Other than howl-o-ween, not too much new. Excited for my pup in November, and not so excited for the cold and crappy weather.


Um, ok, bye.

Bummer, Boise.

I've been in down mood these past few days.
After much anticipation, the boys of The Shaky Hands made their way to Boise to shake this city right. I spread the word like mono in a middle school. I was so excited for this show, ready to rock it out with the Boise night life. Ready to dance with my fellow town mates. Ready to show them how Oregon does it. Ready. Ready...
Neurolux at 8:30 pm. A handful of tried and true pals set up at the front of the venue. Show is about to begin. Fat asses at the bar and frat boys at the pool tables were all to be had. I hang my head.
Where is everyone? In Oregon, a show like this would be jammin'. In Eugene, a show like this would have already been shut down with max capacity and the smell of booze. But here, in Boise, it was a whole 'nother story. I have some hypothesis as to why things stunk ass, here they are:

1. It was a spendy show. $10 for a Thursday night gig? I admit, if I wasn't on the list, or if it were any other band, I probably wouldn't pay that much either.
2. Here in barbaric Boise, you're still allowed to smoke in the bars. Apparently second hand smoke doesn't exist here. Perhaps the potatoes filter the state? A sign was put up on the door asking for no smoking for this show. FANTASTIC, I thought. But not to the people of B-town. Cancer sticks trump good tunes, and many turned away to go suck on their turds somewhere else. Good Riddance, stinks.
3. Thursday. It was a Thursday. Once again, in Eugene, this wouldn't have been a problem. Thirsty Thursday, it's just another day to your weekend. Not so here, I guess.
4. UFC Fights and shit beer- Idaho's preferred past time, was not present at this show.
5. No one dances. Bo Jangles is not alive in the spirits of the Idaho peoples.

Despite the poor outcome, I danced my little heart out like any other show. I left the venue with out a burning throat and made my way home to make the boys Mac'n'Cheese before calling it a night.
Ugh.

Ok, enough down talk. It's not all bad here. Like I've been telling my Momma, my quality of life is much better here than it ever was in Eugene. I am more healthy and productive. It's just the whole- new girl- new land- that has hit me. I'm sure it will pass...

10/09/09

Dear Idaho,
I hate you.
Sincerely,
Me

Oh Holy Hell!

Alright, I was going to dedicate today's post to Boise's awful drivers (for reals, ya'll ride ass like a perv.) As well as a HI-LARIOUS trend I have noticed (big boys on big tricycles...seriously) but it's all going to have to wait for one major "WTF" of a tale.
It all began, oh, 15 minutes ago when I drove myself to Winco. I was feelin' pretty good about getting myself there with out getting lost. I was on a mission for a Birthday cupcake (it's a friends b-day) and maybe a jo-jo or two for myself (what? It's Saturday!). Jo-jo's in hand I made my way to the bakery, only to be stopped by one of my only favorite alcoholic beverages, Wild Blue. This beer tastes like blueberries, and looks like dirty Kool-Aide, but I love it. Now, I don't drink much, I've kinda retired from my party days. And since I began my new medication (my doctors are trying to turn me into The Hulk) I don't really drink at all, ever. But, I thought I would treat myself and buy a pack. I can drink half of one bottle with out going all street-rat crazy. So, I stood in front of the coolers, looking at the beer like I really knew what I was thinking. Things were chill as I contemplated my purchase- UNTIL
"Daddy yuck!" A little voice screamed. "Yes, we don't drink that!" Roared a man.
Peeps were down on my alcohol contemplation. My 15 year old (looking) body grasping that big kid drink was not sitting too well with the customers of Winco.
Whatever, I thought. It's good to tell your lil' ones not to drink this stuff.
I grabbed a case. All was cool again- UNTIL
"Judgement!" I heard a woman say.
JIGGA WHAT!? Did you just say JUDGEMENT, to ME?! Aw Holy Hell! Here I am, good as can be. I say my please and thank you's, I open doors and help elderly across streets. I work hard, pay attention, and always help. I accept people, and even if I think you're whack, I don't get all up in your business and YOU are passing judgement on ME!?
I clenched my beer with an iron fist.
I walked my sinful self to the register.
And I bought that devils drink, saying thank you to the clerk as I left, of course.

*Special thanks to my stereo, which decided to blast The Thermals "take the control/grab hold!/ get fucking ready!" as I left the parking lot.

I am sure many a shameful head shakes were had as my beat up Tracer, Obama For Prez and Oregon Love stickers in all, drove into the sunset.

Shhh

Things are good, but all I have to say is I miss my Eugene friends so, so, so much.