Things I Won't Miss

The nightly gunfire and the nighttime trips to the gas station.

Posted by Brandy Raydeeo Holmes on Sunday, August 2, 2015

Teaching the kids Amurrkan.

Treating the fam to dinner at The Whitney. We are definitely thee most ghetto table of customers ever. It's like Beverly Hillbillies-meets-stereotypical Japanese tourists. I just spent my entire paycheck on beef wellington and roast duck and chocolate souffle. Aaand as I typed this I forgot I was in public and burped really loud.

Am I sexy or nah?

Oh mah belly parts.

The Fam is Over

There's a gaggle of demon spawn in my bed. Nothing new to report. It's pretty much an exact copy of my family's last visit. Except that my brother's kids are even more annoying. So is my sister's, actually. And also that I can't understand a damn word his mother-in-law is saying. And also aren't there 3 other bedrooms in this house?

Dafuq.

#ijustcant

From previous family mayhem

Everything in Australia Wants to Kill You.

But cute tho, right?

Okay so I just got home. Its 3am. I haven't even taken my shoes off yet. I'm sitting on a box in the kitchen to check for Facebook messages from my mother and...

.....ah-HA!!!

I KNEW it!

WTF, Australia!?

Are you KIDDING me? Why do you even LIVE there?

The irony: I was considering a last minute flight down undah to check out a sweet shark diving company in Port Lincoln (because whaleshark diving is out of season..smh, Australia).

But now?  Girl, bye!

OMG.  I'm deep cleaning my bedroom "as we speak".

I mean...WTF, Australia?  Seriously. What the ACTUAL FAACK!?

Full story here.

And I thought the scariest Australian creature was attached to Chris Hemsworth.  *rimshot*

When's Intermission?

Acts I, II & III now playing in my uterus.

#killmenow

Miami

My job sucks. 

1 concentrated month planning a managers/execs boat cruise. A $45k check that I personally drove down to the boat dock this morning. A high maintenance band that demanded a special boat launch time and white rose arm bouquets who the execs just had to have. A crazy dinner menu with stuff I can't pronounce. I had to google some of it. Stalking the executives when they didn't RSVP. I actually leaned against one person's closed door so he couldn't get out until he gave me an answer.

All that, and then I miss the last shuttle because I was helping a guest.

Aaand as I'm typing this, I notice that my new shellac job has just chipped.

Meh. 

But it's all good. An old friend from the Miami days is coming up to stay with me this week. So I could use this time to clean up a bit.

From
  5 Seconds of a nervous breakdown

We worked together for a cruise line company in Miami Beach.  That was a few years ago, before the earthquake and Detroit.

She's also a Second Life friend, though she's online even less than I am.

I gotta spray extra spider spray on all the ceilings. Last night I found a spider on my ceiling. Just chillaxin. Throwin' up gang signs at me. With a little mini-boom box playing "Straight Outta Compton".

Little bastard.

So I screamed and set the nozzle on my spray bottle of 99% alcohol to "kill" and sprayed his punk ass dead.

But that was too close to my bed.  So I slept under my sheets last night with the window closed (noisy neighbors) and woke up with a damp pillow from sweating.

I know. Sexy, right?

Anyway I can't wait for my buddy to visit. I miss Miami.

I suppose I should clean the sheets first.

Last gangster spider I saw.

Currently addicted to this song. Which version's better?

For the Ladies.

Okay, this post is for women only. It's going to get really girly, and probably a lot gross. 

So if you have a penis, please find the illuminated exit signs to the left, the right and the rear of this post.

Exit left: Yahoo Sports

Exit right: Hey, look...BOOBIES! (nsfw)

Exit rear: Mmm...bacon.

My sister made this meme of
my mom and posted it for
every relative in the
universe. She thinks
it's funny. I think imma
punch her in the face.

Okay, ladies. The boys are distracted for a bit.  Let's talk real talk.

Let's talk about period blood flow.  Does your period ever flake out on you? This month, mine came a full week late. Further proof that my mother was actually right, and that my eggs really are drying up. Which means I need to pop some grandkids out within the next couple of years.

And here's another question... On the 2nd night (which is, as you know, the worst night, right?) I got home really late from work. I ate some popcorn, took a shower and passed out in my bath towel. I literally could not wake myself up enough to get up and put on a pad. I actually mumbled, "Oh, PLEASE don't mess up these sheets. I love these sheets.... ZZzzzzzzzz..."

Guess what...I woke up the next morning and...nothing.

From Clarifications

IKR!?

Not one drop.  Not even on me!

ON THE SECOND NIGHT!

So what does this mean, leadies? Is it physiological? Is period flow a mind-over-matter thing?  Omg.

Oh, speaking of controlling our bodily functions, there's this new app called RunPee.

So you know how you go to the movies and right when the good part is starting, you have to go pee? It's a big fiasco. Well there's this sweet new app called RunPee. This app is badass, ladies. You tell the app what movie you're watching, the app syncs with the movie and then tells you the best times to go pee. Omg, right??

From RunPee.com

I supposed I could've shared the RunPee tip with the guys, but...honestly, screw the guys.  They pee standing up.

Next thing: Two years ago my friends paid a male dancer to pull me on stage for my birthday. I was pissed at them - mostly humiliated that they paid for it, and he poured hot wax on me after I told him not to. I learned after that there's a special wax for kinky stuff...this wasn't it. My chest was red and sore for a while after. So I kinda lashed out at him by calling him a name. As mentioned in a previous post, I saw him again last year, and he definitely remembered me.

From OMG what's happening right now

I saw him again two days ago at this snobby neighborhood supermarket that I usually stay away from. The customers are really snobby. Even the cashiers have attitudes. But it's the only place that sells my favorite bottle of moscato. Apparently, he lives in the neighborhood. And for whatever reason still remembers that I called him a name. Is that odd, or am I wrong? He must get insulted at least once in a while on the job.

I mean...he is short. He's like 2'4".  Okay, not really.

So I apologized with more humility this time and explained that I was really angry with my friends and took my anger out on him.

Missin' N'awlins.

Then he went into this whole rant about how his new girlfriend is twice as hot as me and how she knows how "f*ckin' big" he really is.

I was standing behind him in the check out line while he continued his rampage. I was so confused. I think I might have dropped my shopping basket. lol

*shrug*

So now I feel even worse. I feel bad for calling him a name, which was childish and careless, and then for getting him all riled up again the other day.  Should I have left it alone?

Speaking of strippers. ladies...Magic Mike XXL.

Two words.

Cheetos. And water.

You're welcome.

Illegal in-movie recording. #loveit

Yeah, I've seen it twice.  Jealous?

If you're in the metro Detroit area, there's a new shoe store in Madison Heights that sells pretty pumps for...TEN DOLLARS!! Omg. I still managed to spend $82 there. They have men's shoes, too. I'd tell the guys but...screw the guys. They pee standing up.

Next question. Why do we have to work harder than men to be acknowledged at work?  I mean REAL acknowledgement. Like pay raises or inclusion.I have 5 huge projects happening right now that I'm solely responsible for. I'm planning/executing every facet of:

• employee talent show (next week)
• employee lunch with the CEO (tomorrow)
• employee health fair w/26 vendors (two weeks)
• managers' yacht cruise for 200 managers and +1s (Monday)
• ...I can't even remember what else atm

All of this involves all sorts of communication, branding, posting, phone calls, triple counts, and don't even get me started on the yacht fiasco.

The only cool thing about not having time for friends is that my phone stays charged for days. Waking up to a phone on an almost full battery when you didn't charge it is like a small little win for the day. Sigh.

A coworker in another department and I report to the same exec. He's constantly in the exec's face. He'll resolve some little issue, like helping an employee fix something, and he'll spend hours in the exec's office bragging about what he did. He interrupts my meetings with the exec, he sits down at our lunch table and talks about his day. It's really obvious, and I'm not sure why the exec puts up with it.

Other than because he's a guy?

Seriously. If we did that - stalked our bosses and complained about our days - we'd be seen as whiny, moody, high-maintenance.

But my coworker?  In the past year, he's received a raise, an employee recognition and a promotion.

Double standard, ladies.  Seriously. Wtf.

A guy I use to be interested in had a girlfriend all along.  How'd I find out? Cause I'm a stalker. 

SMH.  He was lying the whole time.

Well, he's a guy.  So...yeah.

I can't stand my BFF's boyfriend. He's cheated on her numerous times. All of his friends are fully aware of his shenanigans. And he's sort of blatant about it.

Exhibit A 

Boyfriend has a motorcycle accident and is taken to the hospital. One friend contacts my BFF, unaware that another friend has contacted the other girlfriend. Both show up at the hospital, and fireworks ensue. Boyfriend pleads with BFF to take him back, and - to my befuddlement - she does. 

From 300: Rise, bitches.

Exhibit B

BFF and boyfriend go on vacay, and BFF complains to me that boyfriend texts someone else the whole time. And he only posts pictures of himself or with other tourists - not with her. Turns out he was texting the other girlfriend the whole trip and adding that he was on vacation with his buddies...not the BFF.

Exhibit C

He's been in and out of jail, he's in a gang, He has way too many guns - all illegal. He has a stupid temper.

I can't stand him. And she's well aware of that fact.  She knows I want to twist his testicles into balloon animals. So she keeps us separate. Which sucks because I lose my best friend for a lot of the time. 

I don't care that he's 6'2" or brags about his auto-whatever guns. I'm not afraid of him, and it only takes one second for me to go from 0 to 60 when I'm in protective mode. I'd like to say I stole that trait from my Father, but alas, it's all my mother's. She's like a little chihuahua.

But it's the BFF's life. Not mine. It's her fate to make.

Yesterday at lunch, I asked her for the hundredth time to help me understand why an insanely beautiful, strong willed, independent, smart woman like her would ever want to be bothered with this clown.

And then she gave me "the look".  It's the look she gives me when she has to explain something about the world to me. Finally, she got all exasperated and said, "...because he has a big d*ck."

Really, ladies? Is this where we are?

/me facepalms

Chinese Americans trying to talk ghetto.

Really?

You know y'all needs to stop.

You're Chinese.

/me shrugs

Deal with it.








#thug4life
#poppincaps
#deeznuts
#actuallyfacepalmed

Borrowed Socks

It's mid-May, for Trek's sake.

Seriously. Where's spring?

Pipe Music = "Al Green" for Pigeons?

When you're too lazy to even blow dry, comb or even PART your hair, you're probably too lazy to open a door.

So I'll just stand here and wait for someone to walk by and open it for me. lol

This just in: New Orleans pigeons are perverts.

Every time the ferry turns on the pipe music, the pigeons start having sex.

WTF! Gross. I did tell two pigeons to get a room.

5 seconds of a nervous breakdown I'll never get back.

Been up all night. Literally. So I got up to go pee at like 1:30am. I stumbled down the stairs and sat on the toilet and peed while scratching my belly with one eye open.

Hot, right?

So I glanced around at nothing in particular and noticed what appeared to be a teeny black ball of lint stuck to the wall under the towel.  I immediately dismissed it as lint from one of my towels. Two seconds later, my brain finally woke up and I said aloud, "Wait...I don't have any black towels!" 

What happened next was all slo-mo that would put John Woo to shame.

I blew at it.  And it pimpwalked away.  It PIMP WALKED AWAY!

It was a damn SPIDER.  

I screamed loud enough that my neighbor turned on her light, I did some weird floppy dance on the toilet seat, the jar of cotton balls on the shelf fell on my head, I broke my favorite shower curtain when I used it for leverage, I jerked back because I thought all the cotton balls were spiders, so I peed all over the seat...sigh. And this all happened within maybe 5 seconds.

OMG.

What's worse, I had to pass the spot where I first spotted the spider...which, btw, had suddenly disappeared...to leave the bathroom.

OMG.

So I've spent the rest of tonight cleaning the entire house. Sweep-mop-scrub-spray-repeat. I sprayed spider spray along the base of every wall and every crevice in this house.  I poured 99% ethyl alcohol into a spray bottle and sprayed the hell out of the windows.. 

The entire time, I've been holding this aggressive (albeit one sided) discussion with the now long-gone baby spider, repeating the same two phrases for the past 3 hours:

"Oh, no you didn't!"

and

"Don't lemme find yo azz!"

I messed up the thing that goes under the rug in the den. I threw all my downstairs closet shoes onto the patio. I'll spray them tomorrow.  

I'm high as hell right now, but I'd rather die from fumes than from death by 1000 spider bites.

That's spider murder.

And, okay yeah, maybe was just a little spider. But where there's one little baby spider, there's a whole nest of his brothers and sisters not far away just waiting to find and kill your ass.

It's written in the bible.

I'm going to damn bed.

. 

House Rules.

Eggs Gone Wild

Meanwhile, in my uterus...

#insubordination

#someonecallsecurity

Too Tired for a Title

Inspiration

So I planned/executed an employee family movie event for work. Purchased the movie, booked the venue, arranged the food & beverage & floor plan, created/posted collateral, managed electronic RSVPs, managed the staff, and tried to run from some of the most demonic, stinky, loud little demon spawn I've ever met.

I'm too tired to bullet point all those out.

At one point, I hid in the bathroom stall.  No, really. Even though I didn't have any pee left. 

Tomorrow I need to put finishing touches on the employee recognition awards happening next week.

I decided to do an "old Hollywood" theme, so everything will be feathers, pearls, reds, whites and blacks. I also created these cool 24x24 "walk of fame" floor clings for each award winner. Still under the $15k budget.

I'm going to damn bed.

Witness the tsunami-like destruction left 

in aforementioned demon spawns' wake.

On Being a Girl

OMG. Life is so much better the day after the week when your eggs hold a séance in your uterus.

#returnthekraken

Deep Freeze

Third day of below 0 temps. Hot water pipes are frozen, so I boiled water to clean the kitchen. Can't get the house temp above 65. The house is making weird popping noises. I think it's the foundation settling. This is like a zombie apocolypse where everything starts shutting down. 

Ran to the grocery store for coffee filters at 7am in -11 degrees (that's -21 C). 

Car wouldn't start in the store lot. Tried 3 times. Sounded like the alternator. Pulled out the tow truck card from my wallet, tried the car again while waiting forever for them, engine finally turned over. 

Got into an argument with an Indian Amurrkan guy in the Starbucks drive thru. Way too cold to get out and make him bleed. I'm from the hood, yo. But I'm cold, yo. 

Came home to a stream of water coming through the living room window I think from melting icicles outside...maybe because the sun was out? Moved the furniture away, stuck a bucket and newspaper underneath, walked back to the store, wanted caulk sealant but they only had rustoleum. While waiting for the leak to stop, ate rice, flipped through the channels, settled on some james brown documentary, slept on the couch all day, just woke up at 9:30pm with the my Afro ponytail on full display for any poor soul looking in, had a pee, flipped through more channels, found bill Murray singing to a shark (?), realized I'd missed TWD, screamed, debated on watching Talking Dead because they tell you who died. 

Okay, I had to let all that out somewhere. Maybe Japan is a good thing. Independence isn't always what's it's cracked up to be. I could suffer a head of household and labor pains if it meant never having to walk to a store in -21C again. Your reading all that is your good deed for the day. Or the week. You've just received like 300 karma points. And some of you need it!

Hate Trucks

 

 

This stupid truck has been holding up a line of traffic for the 20 mins.

 

I made a new playlist called "Fight Club". It's perfect for moments like this. Or when children are around.

 

You're making me late. MOVE!

 

 

 

 

Listening to Ludacris - Move Bitch (Dirty)

 

1.25.15 Dailies

SUNDAY 

Watching the Miss Universe pageant makes me want to eat a whole cake. 

 

A thee-layered cake.  Made with extra butter. With a giant layer of frosting.

 

Sigh.

WEDNESDAY 

I live next to a small community park.  

 

Well, it's not so much an actual "park" as it is a block-long patch of trees with a couple of park benches thrown in.

 

There's my house, the street, then the park.

 

The "park" is becoming more and more  popular with people from neighboring communities. It's really quiet (my community is pretty much all older Jewish people) and there's lots of shade. Plus, it's really close to the shoreline. 

 

Lately, there's been a person sitting in a car parked in front of my house (which is the edge of the park) as I leave work in the morning. Not the same person. Always a different car. Young, white male or female. 

 

This morning, I woke up early and watched the news downstairs, and peeped the front of my house.

 



How to gawk at your neighbors.

Turns out, it's a prime location for drive-by drug deals. Here's how it works...

The buyer will park and make a call to his/her seller, and wait.

The seller will drive up in the opposite direction, driver-to-driver.

The buyer and seller will extend their arms and make the trade.

Both cars will speed off.
I saw this in action twice this morning and actually said aloud, "Oh, no you dit-ent!"

 

So here's what's up. 

 

The next car that pulls up, I'm walking out there to take their picture (making sure they see me do it), or I'll go off on them. Or both. Either way, they're about to take their shit elsewhere. I am not spending my last few months in the U S of A staring at druggies making buys. Take y'all asses back to the trailer park.

FRIDAY

Mythbuster #239: You don't need a man (*cough*Kristyl*cough*) to shovel your snow.  Get your arse out there!



Sigh...I miss you already,
electric blanket.

SATURDAY

When you gotta shovel the porch for your mailman, but you're too lazy to change from your bed clothes...

 



 

12.29.14 Dailies

MONDAY


"The Ladies". Always texting,
always popular, always entertaining.
It's high school all over again.

Why is Nick Jonas' new song so catchy? I love how throwback 80's music is popular right now. And when did Nick Jonas graduate from cheesy boy band dude to hot new solo artist?

These things trouble me.

Don't believe me? Every woman at the ice rink the other day sang along when "Jealous" played. All ages, ethnicities. Kristyl and I tried unsuccessfully to hit the high notes and scared a few people.

I brought this weighty topic to the lunch table today for the consideration of The Ladies of the The Popular Table. After much debate (mostly while texting, so they were only partly paying attention), The Committee will henceforth refers to this phenomenon as the "Justin Timberlake Blueprint".

The Justin Timberlake Blueprint

Member of popular/cheesy boy band breaks away from the group and successfully rebrands himself as a hot solo artist.

Step 1: Separate yourself from your cheesy boy band image by doing something raunchy. (aka, "the Miley Cyrus strategy").

Step 2: Your breakout hit must border the pop/r&b genres. Once played on an r&b station, you're in.

Step 3: Your breakout hit must contain lyrics that makes us feel sexy or beautiful.

Step 4: Throw in lots of high notes for the ladies to swoon over. We love it when guys hit the high notes. It's like a singer's way of saying, "I'm comfortable enough with my sexuality to hit that note."

So ordered.





TUESDAY
lol!!!


Best Triple Bitchslap Performed by a Burrito



WEDNESDAY

Forgot to post something before I left.

 

This year was an interesting year. I learned a whole lot more about myself...including things I really didn't want to know. I learned that I'm getting older. My body is changing, I'm growing more stubborn, and my butt is out of control.

 

I learned that I am fragile, but kind. I learned that humility and acts of kindness go hand-in-hand. I learned that a stranger's kind face can hide a heart of hate and destruction. And that a friend doesn't just chat with you every day, or about the easy stuff, but will be there when you want to talk about the cringe-worthy stuff. I unwillingly recognized the importance of financial stability and DIY'ing (doing it myself).

 

I discovered that my want for independence masks a deeper need for protection and security, and my mistrust in things/people that promise them. In a circular irony, the people that promise what I need are the very people from whom I run. 

 

A large part of my path for 2015 is immovable. I can't escape it and therefore I have to accept it and embrace it. I have to consider it when making my resolutions. I resolve to be more patient. I vow to buy fewer pairs of shoes and way more corsets. I vow to try to watch Star Wars, geezus god...again.

 

I said try.

 

I promise to visit the spider exhibit at the Oregon Insect Zoo during my visit to Portland next month. Did I ever mention why I'm afraid of spiders? So one day I did something bad...can't remember what...and my father sat me in a closet. And I remember all these teeny little white spiders hatching from an egg somewhere on the ceiling and gliding down all around me.  There had to be hundreds. I remember swatting at them and crying for my father to let me out. I could've just opened the door, but He'd told me to stay put.

 

So spiders in 2015.

 

Most importantly, I resolve to gain more humility. I need to grasp the insignificance of my place on this planet. Because I want to feel the obligation to help others without regard for my own self-perceived importance. 

 

Ake mashite omedeto, peeps.

THURSDAY

No work today...Holiday Pay Say WHAAA!?

 

DAMMIT I forgot I'm salary now.

 

Took my cousin to 526 in Royal Oak, then we walked across the street to a spot to catch up. We ordered way too much food. Don't you hate being that one person who walks around the entire city with a carry out container like its your scraps for the rest of the week?  lol

 

I'm addicted to photo insta effecting. 

 

Insta effecting. That's a thing.  Don't argue with me.

 

Currently crushing on the InstaCollage app. Not to be confused with love.  Because I'm currently in love with my electric blanket.  Always and forever. Yes, I know those are words to a song. I've sung them to my blanket.

 

Seriously.  Warm it up for like 10 minutes before bedtime, and you'll swear you're sliding into heaven's pearly gates.

 

Even if you're a strong atheist. The blanket will convert you.

FRIDAY

I messed up a perfectly good plot of land in Second Life. It was just right two months ago. Fall forest. Then I decided to winter up.  No idea why. So I'll log on to star and laugh or point or move something to the left or right or pay rent. I'm calling it a work in progress.



SATURDAY

Meanwhile, in my damn uterus...

 

 

 

 



12.22.14 Dailies

MONDAY

I had a taste for Buddy's Pizza the other night. A spinach-tomato-onion pizza. Buddy's is in a more dangerous part of Detroit - city busses don't even stop there. But Buddy's Pizza is worth a bullet wound or two.

There was a flyer about a local missing woman on the counter. I scanned it and grabbed my heart because it felt like it had left my body. By the time the waitress came back with my pizza, I was already crying like a baby. She handed me the pizza and simply said, "I know. She's been missing since Monday."  I probably looked like some crazy person sobbing all the way home. What this poor woman...and her family!...must be going through. I just can't. My poor Aussie friend had to suffer through my sobbing rant for hours. A selfless act, considering my trust level with would-be friends these days.

Note the bags, the dark circles,
and the general lack of grooming.

I didn't sleep that night. And very little since that night. I called the number on the flyer and spoke with Henrietta's daughter. She's creating a FB page for volunteers looking to help. I posted the flyer to bulletin boards at work and forwarded a copy to local FB friends to share. Her daughter allowed me to bring them dinner for the family yesterday. (I couldn't think of how else I can help, but hopefully this is one less small chore for them to worry about.)  I also gave them a gas station card for all the leads she's hopefully receiving. It's hard to ask to help without sounding too stalker-ish.  We HAVE to find Henrietta soon, or I'll never sleep again.

CBS

WXYZ/ABC

TUESDAY

I realize that a traumatic event can change a person's perspective on different aspects of their life. For instance, a car accident can make a person overly cautious about driving in traffic. For me, my recent incident left me numb. I did really stupid stuff, like walking into traffic before looking. That morphed into a sort of hyper-aware state. In casual environments, I immediately head for a corner in the room. I watch hands, acute movements, noises. Everyone is taller/stronger than me.  I feel unprotected. Even with a gang of homies with me.

Aaand we're rambling.

The one that won't go away.

Where I was going was...do you think it's possible for a life event to change a person's sense of fashion?  Yep, no transition there. I just went from Psych 101 to Self Magazine in 0.2 seconds.

So I'm sitting at the kitchen table with my coffee, wondering what to blog about today, and I realize that I'm buying a lot of red (or "whores' color" according to my father). Without thinking, I choose red. I'm also suddenly fascinated with corsets, and retro pin-up fashion. Which is sort of hilarious because pin-up is designed for women with curves. Like this. Sigh.

Fave new obsession - Pin Up Girl Clothing

WEDNESDAY

A coworker sent the whole damn company a YouTube video with the subject line: "Witness the Power of God". And then she wandered around all day blathering on about how "the spirit of God was really with those people". It was only a matter of time before she got to my desk.  I'm a little busy, woman.
 

 

Wrap dress for
employee party.
(Inspiration)
 

If you're a scientist, you'll say that there simply wasn't enough moisture and warmth in the air to keep the tornado going.

 

If you're a religious person,  you'll say that this was the act of a God answering the prayers of His faithful flock.  

If you're like me, you're thinking, "Soooo....someone had a video camera, but no one had a car? Bus? Mule? Nothing?"

This post isn't really about what you or I believe happened here. But what we do when our opinion strongly opposes the opinions of others. I so want to have a rational debate with her. Maybe give her a reasonable alternative for the tornado's dissipation. But engaging a fanatic in a discussion that questions her beliefs could be a really bad idea.

Have you ever strongly opposed someone's beliefs but kept quiet, even if keeping it in made you sick to your stomach?

THURSDAY

Things I am forced to endure on this day.



Don't ask.

I've locked myself in the den. No, really. I moved the vanity halfway in front of the door. Zombie apocolypse-style, yo. Watching Pride and Prejudice. Again. This movie is by far the only non-syfy flick worth your time.

 

Although it is its own kind of sci-fi in that it offers an unrealistic, alien/not human portrayal of reality. A stuffy attractive man is drawn to a lower class opinionated woman despite his birthright and her crazy mother and can't stop watching her even when more appropriate women are in the room and comes to her rescue a million times and patiently waits for her to notice him turns out to be a real person? Sigh. 

Why can't Mr. Darcy be real?

I need more tea.

FRIDAY

Just walked in to total mayhem at my house. It's 2am, for pete's sake!

 

Who is Pete?

 

I wore my new corset over some jeans and a lace top and a pair of wedge boots, but now I can't get the damned thing off. The prong thingies are like wedged into my skin.

 

Is there some remedial medieval torture device class I missed?

 

Henrietta is still missing. Police searches with K9 units, volunteer searches and still nothing. I spoke with her daughter today, and asked her to please keep my number for anything I can do to help. She seems overwhelmed by everyone's concern. She's received calls and assistance from as far as Quebec, Canada.

 

My mother grows shadier every day. Some Japanese pharmacologist(?)...I don't even know what "farm-a-cologist" means...is visiting the states tomorrow.  Now, my mother is smart. She timed it so that FarmDude would visit while my family is here.  The insane asylum that is my house would distract me enough to not be annoyed with him, every bedroom is taken, and there's no chance of us doing anything improper (hilarious).

Seriously. I can't move.

 

I see what she did there.

 

Well, two things, Maasa: 1st, FarmDude likes Star Wars, not Star Trek. For the millionth time, they're completely separate.  Sigh. 2nd (also for the millionth time), I can't understand a word he's saying.

 

Why am I writing this? My mother never reads my blog anymore. And her timing couldn't be worse. I can't fathom entertaining a random strange man atm.

 

So I'm taking myself out on a date tomorrow. Ice skating, then brunch & unltd mimosas, then to see The Interview. We tried to see it earlier tonight, but the line was quite literally a block long.

 

I hope FarmDude likes burping babies and stepping on grapes and watching TV with the volume on full blast because he can't hear over all the racket.  I'm outtie!

 

 

 

 

The Mindy Project

Mindy Kaling, you are now in the ISIS of Evil. 

Now, go sit over there in the corner with Julie Chen and stfu.