I grew up a delicate flower in a boys world. Meaning, I only had brothers and if I was a flower, at the time it probably would have been some kind of flowering stank weed until about the age of 20. Today I was thinking about all the fun we had growing up together when I remembered this story:
My brothers and I would always sneak watch Unsolved Mysteries. If you hadn’t heard of this show, thank your lucky stars because that shiz would make drops of my urine pop out from fear quite regularly. So scary! Even the theme music was spooky. It had been unofficially banned from our house at night because we would stay up late watching it and then freak out all night about being kidnapped or abducted by aliens. But as they say: “When the mom and dad cats were away, the mice shall play!” SO when our parents went out of town overnight on a business trip for my Dad’s company, we were knee-deep in a marathon of “The Mysteries That Shall Not be Named”… or watched, or solved for that matter, before our folks ever got out of the subdivision. It was a lovely late spring evening and the windows in the tv room were wide open, welcoming the breeze of the season. A half hour into the marathon we were jumpy. One hour in we were down right terrified. When we heard that “the killer <was> still on the loose” in the state we lived in, we quickly shut all of the windows, locked the door and turned on every single light in the house. I think there was even discussion of recreating the scene from Home Alone where young Kevin had cardboard cutouts roaming the house on toy trains to make it seem like a party was happening as to escape certain doom. But then I think we got overwhelmed with the amount of work it would take… and our lack of working toy trains… and our inventory of zero cardboard cutouts… that we just decided Ace would make hamburgers on his George Foreman grill instead.
While Ace grilled us up some of his signature crumbly-to0-thick-and-kinda-raw-yet-somehow-burnt-burgers that we didn’t even have buns for, we made a pact to stay up all night and keep watch for axe murderers until our parental units arrived home in the morning. Ace actually came up with the plan mid-yawn. And by 2am, that bish had snuck up to his room after claiming he was “going to be right back, I have to go to the bathroom.” To keep ourselves awake, the remaining siblings; Rhino, Logan and I decided to mess with Ace. So Rhino and I snuck upstairs to Ace’s room, while Logan hid in the closet at the front door. Rhino and I took a deep breath to stop laughing, and then ran around upstairs screaming out “AHHHH! THE FOREMAN GRILL!!! AHHH!!! THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE! IT’S ON FIRE! HELP HELP!” as we banged on pots with wooden spoons. (I’m not sure why the pots and spoons were how we thought fires worked, but Ace didn’t ask any questions.)
Ace shot out of bed in his tighty whities and darted down the steps and into the front yard. It was as if he had been pulled out of the house on a string. There was no rubbing of the eyes or sleepy stumbling, just haul-ass darting out of the house nearly naked. (Besides the panties and ever-fashionable tube socks, that is.)
At first we were entertained, but then we were like – “Hey, he didn’t even look for any of us!” Ace didn’t even look back. He didn’t yell inquiries. There was no “Here! Take my hand! Follow me!” or “I’ll fashion a ladder out of these sheets and we will all climb down to sweet freedom! Together!” Nothing. Not even, “If this shit is on fire, where’s all the smoke?” Just half naked Ace running so fast out of the house he left the front door open and a tube sock at the base of the front steps. Like some kind of stinky Cinderella. Logan popped out of the closet and closed the door. Then we turned on all the outside flood lights and watched Ace walk around the yard for ten minutes scratching his head and climbing over bushes. It might have been one of those “it’s funny because I’m sleep-deprived” moments, but to this day I STILL crack up at the thought of Ace running around the front yard half naked under a floodlight, throwing rocks at the house (he must have not known how fires worked either) while we giggled and watched him through the peep hole.
Eventually Ace came to the front door because he heard us laughing so loudly. He wasn’t even mad. He just was all “Well dang, all I could think was Mom and Dad are going to be pissed if I burned this mother down with the George Foreman Grill!” Again, nothing about his burnt siblings. Bahaha I love you Ace! Brothers are the best!
My best friend, Lala is moving away to a magical island! We don’t live in the same state now, but for some reason thinking about her moving has made me nostalgic for our BFF experiences thus far, including college. I was an art student, she was a math major – but eventually she came to the dark side because we had cookies. I couldn’t have been happier because with us both in art classes together, they had two carbon copies of sparkly snarkdom at their immediate disposal. This post is a tribute to our college days!
WHEN SCHEDULING SAID THERE WAS ONLY ROOM FOR ONE MORE IN THE CLASS:
“SHIT! THE C- PARKING LOT IS FULL AND WE’RE LATE!” :
WHEN NEITHER OF US LOOKED AT A CAMPUS MAP WHILE ELECTING OUR FRESHMAN CLASSES:
WHEN IN ART HISTORY WONDERING WHY GHANT, A PROFESSOR BORN AND RAISED IN NORTH CAROLINA, HAS A BRITISH ACCENT:
(SKIPPING HIS CLASS TO GO TO THE OLIVE GARDEN):
WHEN THE PROFESSOR LIKES THE CLASS SUCK-UP’S ART PROJECTS MORE THAN ANYONE ELSES:
TO THE TEACHER WHEN STUDENT REVIEWS FAVORED OUR ART WORK MORE THAN THE SUCK-UP’S:
WHEN THE COLOR THEORY PROFESSOR WANTS TO KNOW “WHO’S ART IS THIS? THE COLORS ARE NOT MIXED REALISTICALLY…”:
OUR REACTION HEARING WE WILL HAVE “MALE NUDE MODELS IN LIFE DRAWING TOMORROW”:
OUR REACTION WHEN THE OLD NUDE MODELS DISROBED IN CLASS, REVEALING MUCH MORE HAIR ACCUMULATION THAN WE HAD MENTALLY PREPARED FOR:
“NICOLE, PICK A PARTNER…”
WHEN VISITING THE RALEIGH ART MUSEUM FOR AN ASSIGNMENT:
TYPICAL ART STUDENT:
“YOU HAVE FOUR HOURS, THERE WILL BE ONE, FIVE-MINUTE BREAK, TWO HOURS IN. PLEASE OPEN YOUR BLUE EXAM BOOKLETS, NOW”:
SEEING THE MEANEST, SKINNIEST CHEERLEADER FROM HIGH SCHOOL AT SUBWAY ON TATE STREET. NOTICING SHE GAINED 60 POUNDS AT COLLEGE:
MAKAELA AND THE DRINK MACHINE:
FAILING TEXTILES CLASS:
“WHAT’S A PELL GRANT?”
“I’M GONNA NEED THAT PELL GRANT BACK, IT WAS A MISTAKE”
“THE UNIVERSITY IS CLOSED DUE TO SNOW”:
PRESENT YOUR 400 REQUIRED DRAWINGS ASSIGNMENT FROM LAST NIGHT, THAT WAS ON THE SYLLABUS I GAVE YOU 4 MONTHS AGO, BUT NEVER REQUESTED OR DISCUSSED IN CLASS AT ANY POINT IN TIME:
WHEN AN INSTRUCTOR PEEKS THEIR HEAD INTO THE DIGITAL LAB, HAVING HEARD LOUD LAUGHTER AND A SPONTANEOUS TWO-PERSON RENDITION OF A SPICE GIRLS’ SONG DOWN THE HALL:
Good luck, LaLa-Bean! I’m so excited for you and T! I miss you preeeeetty much every day from here anyways, so you can assume the trend will continue. ❤
Happy Thanksgiving! 😀
I know that many of you will be hitting the bricks tomorrow at crack ass o’dawn a.m., all in efforts of finding the perfectly priced gift for all the lovelies in your life. Please dress warm, stay hydrated and note: when you are out freezing your lady garden and man mounds off for $50 Kindles – I will likely be drooling on Smith’s pillow in our toasty bed – but I implore your efforts! I’m just not cut out for the thug life that is Black Friday. I tried once. It was Radio Shack in the early ’00s. I got up at 3 am for a $15 PDA organizer. I made it to the store, half awake and in my pajamas. Line was long, it was freezing and I didn’t even park. I turned my baby blue Geo Tracker around, hauled azz home and I’ve never looked back. Anyhow, back to you – the Black Friday Chuck Norrises of the world: I would like to take this opportunity to promote your giving gifts of the magically delicious unicorn variety. I have gathered a few of my favorite samples thereof below.
For the make up lover:
Apparently unicorn farts are a mixture of cotton candy and spearmint. Too crass? Perhaps you should opt for the Unicorn Pee flavor then?
” Unicorn Pee tastes like a party that bananas, coconuts, chocolate, almond and peppermint were invited to…”
For the gamer:
If you are short on cash, you could give lovelies a free/ .99 cent unicorn gift. Download the Robot Unicorn Attack game (by Adult Swim) on your loved one’s iPads and iPhones – or just be lazy and send them the free link. Hey, maybe you just don’t love them enough to go the extra .99 cent mile, I can’t judge you. It’s a beautiful game, with a sound track that will make you feel like you are galloping through The NeverEnding Story. Unfortunately, just when you embrace the beauty of it all, you will die – and you will make unicorns cry.
For the Brony:
Rainbow Dash is always a great choice for your bronies. While Rainbow Dash lacks a horn, it’s pretty safe to assume she was likely the victim of a hate crime and is, in fact, a unicorn. There is just way too much rainbow happening there to be anything else. Buy her in doll form (as pictured above), or in this spank-worthy awesome hoodie version:
For the animation lover:
I have access to a sweet ass supply of these lil dudes at Universal Studio’s Minion’s ride (From the movie Despicable Me). If you’re interested, hit me up in the comments and I’ll see how I can get one to you…
It really is “so fluffy” and adorable. Smith got me this as a blog mascot. 😀
For the hipster, or for Smith to get me <HINT HINT>:
For the serious, no-farts-allowed person in your life:
A Swarovski unicorn from Zale’s! If you know me, you know my accessories are always Swarovskied to the bejesus because that shit twinkles like the dickens, I tells ya! Girls and twinkles just go together like ladies and… jelly.
For the fine-art connoisseur on your list:
How’s about a Prince riding a unicorn painting? (This is the shit that made the doves cry…17 dove tears of pure awesomeness!)
And finally, for your favorite foodie:
There is no possible way that you could go wrong with these. Buy a “shitload.” That is all.
To my Black Friday-ers: stay safe out there! And for goodness sake boys, be sure pad the penies! Girls will be throwin’ ‘bos like no one’s business and you won’t be able to celebrate a great deal with a bruised testicle!
U2 must love the shit outta some gay people. I can’t blame them, gay people are awesome.
If you are curious what the heck goes on at a gay pride festival, Google no more my friends! Smith and I (straight) have more gay friends than straight friends. We don’t quite know how that happened, but we are thankful for all of the gourmet foods we’ve been sampling, and good times we’ve been having as result thereof. I would strongly suggest that if you can whip up a few gay neighbors, to do so. You will have the best time at their barbecues. Think of it, every morning going to get the mail and running into an Anderson Cooper or an Ellen. Now, that can’t suck. Also, your property values will likely sky rocket, just from being in close vicinity to their meticulously groomed yards. Come to think of it, Gays might even get us out of the housing market crash altogether. Again, I can’t recommend getting some gay friends and neighbors enough.
There is nothing quite like a gay crowd that is ready to party. They are happy and loving and open to partying with anyone that wants to join – gay or straight. Pride, is a perfect example of that. We go with our friends every year- to celebrate them being them.
The PRIDE! Preparation:
First, I rainbowed my toes-
Next, I made and wore this sign to celebrate our gay friends out loud:
I made shirts for them that are the original saying: FU I’m So Fabulous, I sweat glitter tee for sale HERE
Then it was time to go to the parade. Like I said, they welcomed EVERYone to join in. To support this statement, there was a preachy hater man on the corner with a megaphone – yelling about the gay community being devils and going to hell. How does a gay person react to this? Several gay people tried to get a high-five from him. Now, if that isn’t an open reaction- I don’t know what is. My straight reaction was to show him my butthole, but gay people are so much more classier than I.
In the parade there were floats:
There were sailors:
There were representatives from Southwest Airlines:
There were British men in underwears:
There were awesome politicians:
There were dudes so happy they were holding their feet way up in the air:
As the sun went down, there were friends in twinkle lights:
There were live drumming DJ’s that made everyone party at the amphitheater:
There was a big gay rainbow fountain, that I tried to smuggle home with me:
There were fireworks as we walked to our car that night:
There was also Debbie Gibson at 1am… I only made it ’til 8-ish before I needed to go eat gelato. Win some, lose some. Side note, I though Debbie was a drag queen* and was like “damn, that dude looks pretty good. I can hardly tell.” (That’s right, “hardly.”)
Note: If you are in the Orlando area, Pride! lasts ALL THIS WEEK. This was just the kick-off night. I told you gay people know how to throw a party!
Click here to learn more about PRIDE -Orlando festivities on their site. Hope to see you there in 2013!
*In modern days I’ve learned that there’s a difference between transvestites and drag queens, not that it matters much – they’re both normally gorgeous and make me jealous of their beauty in some way or another. ❤