Ah mah gahd!

I happen to have Sir Spaghatta Nadle stuck in my head right now.
I don't know what he sounds like to people, but to me he sounds like the Canadians from South Park.
Now at the moment I have Spaghatta Nadle as my inner voice for thoughts...so I'm basically in my brain shouting with a speech "ampadamant". I'm also enjoying it thoroughly to my amusement.

I was happily on my Facebook when I happened to glance at the Suggestions. Lately it has been, "Many who like PASILA like this." Every time I read it, my eye twitches when I read, PASILA because MY GOD STOP YELLING AT ME! I feel violated.
I feel mistreated. It's not an ad lib, there's no need to verb noun at me. It's like Mad Libs with excited children. "Many people who like... (insert noun)" PASILA PASILA PASILA!!!!!!!
OMFG STOP SHOUTING


I just don't think I can handle RANDOM caps lock abuse in a sentence. It makes me feel vulnerable and awkward.

So whilst my brain shouts with the voice of Spaghatta Nadle I shall continue on with good news.
Although my back is still in pain and my muscle relaxers make me feel nauseas, I went to school today.
I had my own customers, Americans, which made me happy.
At first I was nervous because I was too dumb to realize who Sean and James were.
It's Static Cling! YAY!
Anyway, I was terrified because I'm scared of cutting children's hair.
Little did I know that this was James' first hair cut.
Cutest. Thing. Ever.
He was scared, and only when he saw me cutting his hair in the mirror did he cry and moan, "oooowwwww". I got a little teary eyed. It was so cute.

I don't remember my first haircut, as traumatizing as it may have been. Though I might have been older since I'm a lady and I was supposed to have long hair. Where as James' wings and mullet aren't quite favored on the male species...
I do have a vague memory of Mom deciding to cut my hair and about hacking it all off. I think my sister and I had the same short hair cut. Although, I could be crazy because, well, I don't have any evidence of such a thing...
Where do I get these memories from?
Where are my embarrassing photos to back me up!?

I just thought I would mention that. It made my day.
I'm still screaming with my brain.

AH MAH GAHD AHT'S SAHSAHGE!

I can has a bucket?

I'm always thinking about little things I want to do in my life. At some point.
Not at this moment, but you know, one day. Maybe before I have kids.

I have a "Bucket List" of things I want to do before I die:

-Learn to play piano. It's something I've always wanted to do. I've tried but I feel more inspired to practice when I have a fully functional keyboard. Preferably one with weighted keys and the entire keyboard. I'm not a fan of the dinky electric keyboards that have only like 2/3 of the keys. They make me sad.
-Be a stripper Or a pole dancer. I just think it's something I should do one day. I don't exactly want to show my naughty bits to some perverted men. I wouldn't mind pole dancing in some skimpy clothing for said men and get paid for it. I of course intend on having a bodacious bod before I do such a thing.
-Learn how to Dance As proud as I am of being able to do the lawn mower and basic six step in break dancing, I want to actually learn. I want to be able to bust a move and make jaws drop.
-Bar Tend I would like to be a bar tender as well. I am aware it's something I would have to go to school for, but it is a future goal...

Those are pretty much some of the things I want to do. I mean, there are other things like buying a house, having children, owning my own business, etc, but these are just things I want to do....

Fish sticks and tater tots

I probably think you're better than me. Also cooler than me.

Never mind that I have done some simply mind blowing things in my life.
For instance:
I moved to Helsinki, Finland from Savannah, GA.
The deep south. Oh how I miss it.
How I long for fried chicken and collard greens with corn bread and sweet tea. Road side boiled peanuts...

I made the mistake of using the word, "grits", here in Finland.
"Grapes?" he asks. No... "grits." "Grapes remind me of that grapefruit..." "No...grits. G-R-I-T-S" "Yes...grapes..."
I almost lost my mind. Thank goodness he wanted to say good bye to his grand daughter and smoke a cigarette.
Never saying "grits" in Finland ever again.

The only thing I have is fish sticks and "tater tots" which aren't really tater tots. They're these little potato rounds with onion. They're tasty all the same, but they're not tater tots.

So I am always reading other blogs and I feel like I have nothing to say. I don't think I'm as cool or as interesting or have anything so much fun to say as they do.
I'm trying real hard though.
I am also skeptical about posting my poetry on my blog because it's pretty fucking awesome poetry and I'm worried you'll steal it and claim it as your own. Asshole.

So, I'm going to write about my childhood which, if I think real hard, I can remember it. I was at one point so sure that I had it completely blocked out and all I could remember were the stories my parents told me and what I saw on our home videos which are no longer functioning. Because, honestly, they're VHS tapes. They got destroyed with age.
I remember the huge video camera that was used.
I remember my brother used it. I specifically remember this video clip, which will be told as a story, because there is no longer the video clip:
My dad was knocking down the brick wall between the private bedroom patio and the rest of the backyard to the swimming pool. Happily destroying the bricks with a large sledge hammer, my brother video taping and exclaiming, "IT'S THE BERLIN WALL!"
That's about all I remember.
Which brought a flash back of having this pink stroller type deal which I could put things in, mainly I put tree frogs in there. Because I love tree frogs.

It doesn't seem as amusing as the one time I was babysitting this precious little girl. (I forgot her name, I'm a horrible person!)
She kept telling me about "the cheese!" I asked her about the cheese.
She had been hiding cheese cubes in her stuff. It was awesome.
She also told me about skritches and about mud.

I was totally scared she pooped herself.
But no, the ground was covered in mud (what happened to lava!?) and if you got mud on you, you had to "skritch" it away.
Pretty awesome game. She always won though. AIDEN! Her name was Aiden. I remember now. She was a darling.

I also have a reputation for destroying glass tanks. Fish tanks. More about that later.

All grown up.

I hurt my back over a week ago. Ten days ago, in fact.

I was doing some garden work at the summer house. Hurt my back with the silly rototiller.

It had been a week (read, like 8 days) of agonizing pain before I went to the doctor and was like, "Oh hai, it hurts, lol".

He poked and prodded me, and it was probably (and definitely awkwardly) the most pleasure I've experienced in like 5 days. He was pressing with his thumbs to see if anything was wrong and it was like a massage.

He informed me that I had a muscle spasm in my back and there's really nothing that can be done except that I can eat muscle "relaxatives"* and take some pain killers.

He warns me that it may make me drowsy. "That's cool," I think. "I can be drugged up for a couple days, have a sweet high. Awesome."

I get my prescription (read: recipe) and go get my medicine. Based on the drowsy warning, I decide to wait until I get home to take them.

Great idea. I get home, get a few things taken care of, think about what to make dinner, and take the medicine.

I'm huddled at my computer when I've decided on spaghetti and meatballs. I notice I feel a little swimmy, and make the effort to find an "easy" recipe.

Succeeded. Wrote down the ingredients I would need.

I feel a bit sleepy at this point, but I want some damned spaghetti and meatballs.

I have a list, which I check several times to make sure everything is there. I ask my husband if he wants anything, I add it to the list. I ask again before I leave and inform him, "if it's not on the list I'm not getting it."

I put on my flip flops, have my grocery bag (Save the environment!) and check like twenty times that I have my wallet, keys, and cell phone.

I'm clutching the list in my hand for fear if I put it in my bag I'll be completely lost.

About 1/4 of the way away from my house the medicine hits me in full force.

This is only a 7 minute walk from my house to the grocery store. I am determined to make it to the store. Although my mind is in a completely different world. All my muscles are relaxed, I'm paranoid that I look like a junkie.

I successfully make it the store after what seems like twenty minutes, I get my groceries, pausing every now and again to stare at my list to make sure I got what I needed. I walk home, much easier than walking to the store. I even managed to get stamps. How I succeeded at that, I have no idea.

I even managed to make tasty spaghetti and meatballs. The medicine made me incredibly spaced out, but able to focus on one thing at a time.

That was yesterday though.

This is today. I decided, since the medicine makes me loopy, to stay home to help my back heal faster. I took the medicine in the morning when my alarm went off, went back to sleep. Woke up at 12:30. Did my internetty things, and prepared food and TV for me since I was going to take more medicine soon.

I enjoy food and cherries and medicine. The muscle "relaxatives" don't quite hit my brain and make me sleepy yet, but my body is relaxed. I decide to take a nap.

I napped for about two hours. Woke up high as a kite.

I start to feel nauseas and hungry. I feel crazy and I don't like it.

I manage to get some laundry started and the dish washer filled and running. I make my coffee and eat some cereal.

It dawns on me: Being high isn't fun anymore.

I've grown up.

If I was 16 this would be fucking awesome, I'm sure. It's not though. I don't like it. I don't like feeling brain dead.

I don't even get this trashed when I drink alcohol. I drink for a buzz, although the past week I was drinking with regular pharmacy pain killers to actually have an effect in relaxing me and making the pain go away. It was only a drink or two, not to worry. Not much alcohol.

Though it was because of that need that I did call the doctor.

I'm still a little high on the "muscle relaxatives" but I'm slowly coming down. My back now feels like it has a normal back pain at the moment. It's not as agonizing as it was. The doctor wants me to be on this medicine for 5-7 days. When the pain is tolerable when I'm sober, I'll stick to taking the medicine at night.

It's just the strangest feeling. Feeling like an adult. I don't know what to say...

I've left myself speechless.

Oh god, that means I have responsibilities!

*Muscle Relaxers, but being in Europe, Europeans who aren't fluent in English come up with awesome words.

Dream on

Last night, while in a deep and content slumber, I had a vivid dream.

I was pregnant. I was also like half the size I am now and like, 3 months pregnant. You could JUST see my baby bump.

I was fucking cute.

I didn't tell anyone though. I wasn't sure WHO to tell because this was an exciting experience for me.

Also, for some reason, Obama was there, but he was a doctor. I had him "x-ray" my belly to prove I was pregnant. It was a girl. He then proceeds to rub my belly in a way that he was going to invoke "abortion" while talking about how a girl so young doesn't need to ruin her life with a bastard child. I told him I was married and wanted to keep my baby girl. He said Oh and stopped and congratulated me.

At this point I had to talk to someone about it. (Also through the night I barely woke up adjusting, because I was sleeping on my tummy and worried about the baby).

I was looking for the perfect candidate when I saw Amie T, a classmate from Middle school and High school. I noticed she wasn't smoking cigarettes and so I *knew* she was pregnant again. I was trying to get her attention, to talk to her. I had her attention but wanted to talk to her privately. But she was being difficult.

I'm not sure if I actually told her or just gave up.

I do know I was super excited to be having a baby girl though.

Ah dream world, a much more fulfilling place than it ought to be.

Mind you, it IS that time of the month...

Liar Liar Pants on Fire

When I was a child I was a compulsive liar.

I lied about anything and everything.

The one lie which sticks out in my mind the most is one that ended up involving the police. I don't know how it ever actually ended but there are parts I remember vividly.

It started because my neighbor, Dillian, and I were playing in my yard near the trashcans. I had this tree in the yard that grew these strong scented orange things. I don't know if they were edible or what. Well a bunch had fallen off and we were picking them from the tree climbing on the white, brick fence and throwing them playfully at each other.

Well Dillian threw one that hit me in the eye. It didn't hurt, just surprised me.

At some point later that day, maybe even the next day, my sister notices my eye. I apparently had a shiner. She shows it to Mom and they ask me what happened. Rather than say it was an accident I came up with this huge elaborate story that these two guys drove up in a station wagon and one of them hit me.

I remember the cops coming and asking for a description. I don't know how I described them but I remember saying that they had animal furs, like tiger fur, in their car, and guns. They definitely had guns.

We were standing in the living room. I was against the wall closest to the front door, I remember the beige pink of the cold floor tiles. I had my hands clasped behind my back, fidgeting, but always keeping them clasped, whether it was in the front or back.

I told the story eagerly.

I don't know if it was an obvious lie, if they actually looked for these fictional characters who punched me in the eye. Maybe it was a trick to get me to tell the truth, to learn my lesson, to see how far I would take the lie.

I have no idea.

I just remember telling that stupid, ludicrous lie.

I did lie about everything.

Although, this whole story could be a false memory for all I know. Maybe it didn't happen. Maybe I imagined it all up...

Miscellaneous

As I glance over to my right to take a look at my precious piggies, Marsu's fur glistening in the morning sunlight... his face set into a grumpy stare... and Napsu chewing his butt...

I like to reflect.

For instance, I have a new favorite band. "Red Light Company"

My favorite thing about going to school was buying College Ruled Paper... and having brand spanking new pens and mechanical pencils...

I always hated high lighters.

I believe I got the kick in the butt I needed to get started on losing weight. Finally. It's been two years too long.

I enjoy the fact that my "wedding dress" is titled "Heart breaker". Which is very appropriate once you look at it in the right light. So many guys out there confessed their love to me when they found out I was moving to Finland, more of those guys stopped talking to me when they discovered of my engagement.

So when I stand at the altar with Lauri by my side and listen closely for my time to say, "Tahdon!" I will have broken the hearts of many men.

The men who still speak to me are either a good friend, have mixed feelings about the situation, or they are in complete denial.

I have quit playing WoW. It seems only the first 20-30 levels are the only entertaining ones. Then it gets terrifying, boring, or just plain obnoxious.

My Wii will not play Finnish games. :( So I have to wait until my return to the US of A to buy any new games.

That's all for now.