Dairy and Defining Moments.

Defining moments…..

Everyone has them…

Sometimes they are good.

Lebron James had a great defining moment, when he went from “good” basketball player, to NBA champion in 2012.

Christianity had a defining moment when Jesus did what no other religious leader in history could- ROSE FROM THE DEAD!
                                
And of course- one of the most well known defining moments in US history, I would be remiss not to mention Jaslene Gonzalez and her America’s Next Top Model Cycle 8 victory.
                                   


Sometimes- defining moments are bad.

Kanye West had a bad defining moment when he decided to interrupt Taylor Swift’’s acceptance speech and give his two cents.
                                                 
Los Angeles Clippers owner, Donald Sterling is currently dealing with a very “colorful” bad defining moment right now as well.
                                     
And last but not least, Snooki- although I absolutely LOVE her, has had a bad defining moment or two in her Jersey Shore life.
                                                       

The point that I am most likely unsuccessfully trying to make, is that EVERYONE HAS DEFINING MOMENTS- Moments that define your life or moments that define the path that your life is taking. For me, minus the time I was left at Backstreet Boys Nick Carter’s house, I don’t think I’ve had many of these incidents. HOWEVER…… There was one. One defining moment. One tale, that although shows my ignorance, will at the very least, give you a laugh.

Allow me to set the scene- In 2005, much like a young Harry Potter, I boarded the Hogwarts Express (aka my 2003 Ford Taurus) and made my way to the beacon of higher learning known to most, as Clearwater Christian College. Now, of course, Harry had his two besties to keep him company, but I had ONE amazing roommate. April. 3 Fun Facts about April- (In no particular order) 1. She is hilarious 2. She is awesome 3. She is DEATHLY ALLERGIC TO DAIRY. As a person that is not allergic to anything- you know, except for success, long term relationships and bras that fit correctly, I don’t know the first thing about food allergies and/or what they entail. It was a dark, humid evening at CCC, and as all good stories begin, my roommate April had an idea. The girls in our unit had decided to decorate name tags for our doors. Like a painter carefully selects his/her instrument in which to deliver self-expression, I rummaged through April’s rather large, rather cluttered bag of artistic goods. Nothing seemed to jump out at me. An “art-teeest” of my stature wouldn’t pick just any ole jagged colored pencil to decorate my nametag. No. That wouldn’t do at all. I needed something that would stand out. I needed something that would make my nametag a cut above. If all the other nametags in the dorm shopped at WalMart, I wanted EVERYONE to know that my nametag shopped at Target. I had all but given up hope of finding a color I could really sink my teeth into when BEHOLD! A beautiful sight! In all of my time in the nametag making business, (5 minutes of it) I had never laid eyes on such a gorgeous, life-changing nay- life BRIGHTENING marker. If this marker had a previous owner, it was no doubt, one of the Spice Girls. (my money is on Sporty Spice, but nobody puts Baby in a corner) I digress. Just as I was beginning to think my nametag was going to be about as exciting as last week’s episode of Amish Mafia, I found it. Not only did this particular marker have a beautiful highlighter appearance, the creator must have taken just as much pride in his/her invention as I did in looking at it, because the “Geppeto” of this masterpiece even took the time and care to name their slice of artistic gold. An EPI-PEN. What a classy name for nothing more than a simple art supply.
Not only did this “EPI-PEN” exude power, it also came with an even more classy plastic case. My assumption was, to protect it from being touched by the dollar store, off-brand crayons floating in the bottom of April’s bag. My hands trembled as I reached for what was clearly the “spirit stick” of the art world. I held my breath as I retrieved the pen from its holder. Not only did the EPI-PEN have a plastic container to protect it from undesirables, the EPI-PEN had DIRECTIONS FOR USE. Some would say that my obsession with this pen borderlines on alarming. Some would be right. However, like an Nicole Kidman in Stepford Wives, I mindlessly read Direction #1. Remove EPI-PEN from case. “Bitch give me something difficult”, I thought to myself. DONE.
Direction #2 Pull Black End Off Of The EPI-PEN. “Seems Legit. I must just need to remove this plug, then the marker portion will come out.”
Direction #3 Hold EPI-PEN Parallel To Thigh “Hmmm….. If this were a normal art supply, that would be weird. But this is, afterall, an "EPI-PEN". Who am I to question such undeniable class? When in Rome, I always say!!!” *squinting to read Direction #4, as I held the EPI-PEN down, parallel to my thigh*
Direction #4 Swing EPI-PEN Firmly Into Upper Thigh “Ummm…. Ok? No, this still makes sense. I just jam this lil’ guy into my thigh and the desired marker will pop out the other end. Seems (slightly less) legit.”
I want to tell you that an alarm went off in my head and I put the EPI-PEN down and stepped away.
I want to tell you that I would not have jammed the EPI-PEN into my upper thigh.
I want to tell you that I was smarter than that.
But, I also want to tell you that I did not just recently order the COMPLETE box set of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition on Amazon.
But I would be lying.
At the last possible second, April informed me that the EPI-PEN was not. in fact, an avenue for artistic euphoria, but instead a tool in which to jab into her upper thigh in the unfortunate event that she were to come into contact with dairy.
Like I said at the beginning of this story-

Defining Moments.....

We all have them.

Things are not always what they seem. That is the beauty of life. That is the disaster of life.
I feel foolish when I think that I was about the jab that EPI-PEN into my thigh. However, I can laugh at myself now, because in my lifetime, I've had an embarssing defining moment or two. Perhaps next time I will regale you all with the story of my trip to the Standish Circus.
                                                  
Maybe we can all remember that things are not always what they seem, and that is ok. In fact, that is life.

"My mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive; and to do so with some passion, some compassion, some humor, and some style."
                        -Maya Angelou

Christians for Common Sense... AKA- The Please Don't Hate Me Blog.

I'm addicted.

I can't stop.

I mean, not that I've tried to- but there is no point.

I can't.

The McDonald's Mushroom and Swiss Angus Snack Wrap has me in her death grip, and the dirty bitch WON'T LET GO. It's not like I want her to. I enjoy my addiction, and much like the latest episode of A&E's hit show Intervention, I am a slave to my monster.

Some people like cocaine.

Others really groove on having sex with their cars.

I read a story about a man that could not stop eating metal.

We all have our vices. Mine just happens to be wrapped in a flour tortilla.

Mushrooms. Cheese. Burger. Sauce- stop me if I've said something to offend you.
When I'm not eating a delightful MSASW I'm thinking about eating one, and when I am fortunate enough to be devouring one, all I can think about, is how I should have ordered two.

A good blogger- someone with the clout of a Perez Hilton or a Food Network's Pioneer Woman, would have a point to make with this confession. I however, do not. Not even close. I just couldn't think of an intro for today's blog, so I decided to educate you, make you feel better about your secret addiction to Storage Wars: Texas, and also make you hungry.

MISSION COMPLETE????

Awesome.

Now that I have your undivided attention- I will move on.

Today- this blog will not make you laugh 'til you cry.....

This blog will not make any zany Zac Efron references. (ok- maybe one, two tops.)

This blog will get the humor blogger's KISS OF DEATH.

Today- this blog will get........ POLITICAL.

Ok maybe not so much political, as it will get practical- I hope.

Today we are going to talk about the HOT TOPIC of the week.... month..... maybe even year?

Today. we are going to talk homosexual marriage.

Ya. It's that serious. ish.

You see, today marks six years since my dad passed away.

Larry Little- the man. Plain and simple. And of all the things that my dad absolutely loved, above Mountain Dew: Code Red at room temperature, or M*A*S*H, or even fishing, my dad was a man that LOVED common sense. Yes. It seems so simple doesn't it? Well, I thought it was.... until recently.

You see in the past few days, the issue of gay marriage has been at the lips of evangelical Christians more times than the Hairspray hit "Ladies' Choice" has been on mine. (ok, that's Efron #1)

Whether you are for or against this ideal there is no denying that it is the hottest conversation point since Janet Jackson's "wardrobe malfunction".

Since this has become something brought up at work, during our lunch convos, I figured it was as good a time as any, to give my two cents.

I want to preface this by saying the following-

This is my opinion. The beautiful thing about America, and something I will touch more on later is the freedom of opinion. So sit tight. And please try not to thump me too hard with your King James Version.

Should gay people be allowed to get married? is the question I've been asking myself for a few weeks now. I believe I have come to the correct conclusion, thanks in large part to my dad and his love for the common sense. In short, my opinion is yes. I believe that homosexual people should have the right to be married. NOW WAIT- before you close out this page and stop following me, (all 7 of you), please hear me out.

Common sense is something that I feel the Evangelical community has been lacking lately. God gave us common sense. I believe it's is one of His most amazing gifts ever. The ability to use normal judgement to make decision's. Common sense rocks. If we use it.

Commons sense tells you, 14 year old girl that is friends with my nephew on facebook- if you want people to stop calling you ghetto- a good plan would be to STOP ACTING GHETTO.

Common sense tells you, preschooler in my Toledo Public Schools class- if you want to go outside to the playground, your best maneuver is NOT to spit in my face and kick me in my shins.

Common sense is that amazing thing that stops you from playing outside in lightning, burning your hand multiple times on the same hot surface and I believe that common sense is the thing telling us that not only should gay marriage be allowed- it's nothing more than COMMON SENSE.

Let me spit a lil' knowledge for you.....

Some of you may have read the book Animal Farm, written by George Orwell in 1945. This book follows the crazy lives of 7 young adults making it in the cutthroat world of New Jersey's bars and clubs. KIDDING! Animal Farm is about a bunch of animals living on a farm, and they become angry with the farmer and all of his rules. They want to live life on their terms! They want to be in control of their own destiny! They want to rule the farm!!! (Cue High School Musical 2's "Bet On It" Zac Efron hit single. annnnndddd that's #2.) You see, I believe that America, and especially the conservative right was somewhat like those farm animals from a while ago. When we were living under the oppression of Great Britian, we wanted the freedom to practice religion on our own! And then an amazing thing happened. We fought for our independence and we became, much like the animals in George's book- FREE AT LAST!.....

There is only one little problem with this..... you see..... in the book, the pigs begin thinking that the farmers had the right idea, and that they themselves wanted to walk on two legs, eat in the kitchen, and wear clothes. Slowly but surely, the animals started to realize that the pigs were taking over and making the same rules as the farmers that they fought so hard to overcome. Below is an excerpt from the last page of George Orwell's classic.

"The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which."

You see, the pigs started to look just like the farmers. In a way I believe that the radical right is beginning to forget that they we were once just like those animals- wanting to be free- and now, much like the pigs in tuxedos, the freedom that we once fought for, tooth and nail, we now want to withhold, and dole out at our discretion.

Freedom, as defined in the dictionary, is the power to determine action without restraint. As Americans, how amazing is it, that we have the freedom to do WHATEVER we want, as long as that action does not infringe on someone else's right. This is a freedom that people have died for. A freedom that even homosexual people have died for.

You know the saying, "Don't forget where you came from"?

I think JLo reminded us of that, best when she urged us to believe that she was, despite her millions- STILL JENNY FROM THE BLOCK.

There is this amazing trait of America- you see it doesn't matter what you believe. It doesn't matter if you are black, white, gay or straight. It doesn't matter if you have millions, or if you have to wash and reuse toilet paper. You have the FREEDOM to be an American and live life to the fullest.

So whether you agree or not- whether you will never read my small time blog again or you will- I just urge you to use common sense. Because the next time a group of extreme religious zealots are coming after rights- they could be yours. So sit back, relax and smile. Freedom is a two sided coin. It is not afforded, simply to the rich, or white, OR CHRISTIAN. It is afforded to EVERYONE- just like something else..... God's Love. 



Christian Colleges, WTF??!?! and other short stories......

College is the best four years of your life. Unless you're me. If you are me- congratulations! College is 5 years worth of curfew infractions, dress code violations and a comedy of errors that leads to me in heels walking to the sounds of pomp and circumstance, while sporting an oversized black garbage bag to the front of the stage so they can give me a paper, valued at 80,000 dollars, telling me something that I already know: If at first you don't succeed (in Old Testament class) try, try again.

Yes, I attended Clearwater Christian College  in Clearwater, FL. An amazing time- and for anyone thinking about, already enrolled, or already graduated from a Christian institution, there are SO many things you need to know. I mean, how are you going to know that jeans are made from the fibers of Satan's cloak, if you don't have someone like me to tell you?!?!

So.... for your convience, I have labeled the top 7 people that every Christian college has in attendance. If you can classify who that individual was in your college, great. If you swear they didn't exist- YOU WERE THAT PERSON.

1. Christian College Ray of Sunshine
     AKA: Girl in your 8am class that you want to slap.
Doppleganger: Dopplegangers are fun! and make me happy! Just like early morning college classes, do!
Theme Song: If you're happy and you know it clap your hands.
Major: Elementary Education
Be on the lookout for this Christian College attendee. She will have you paper machee-ing half the campus within the hour. This floral skirted phenom is all about positivity and smiles. I mean, it is the Elementary Ed way! Too bad I positivily want to beat her with a buttered sock.
Nemesis: Me. and every other person in 8am Christian Counseling.



2. The Christian College Hipster.
   AKA I own more scarfs than a FOREVER 21
Doppleganger: The lead singer from ColdPlay
Theme Song: Anything cool, by that new band, "Mumford & Sons" that says the F word in their hit single but its ok, because it's not rap and Eminem isn't saying it.
Yup, you know exactly who I'm talking about here. This "cool" Christian is all about shedding that "nerdy" I HEART JESUS jumper, and throwning on a V neck and some TOMS. This person can usually be spotted a mile away by their skinny jeans and vast Contemporary Christian cd collection.
Nemesis: Places that sell anything but fair trade coffee. Also, any social injustice.



3. The Christian College Wholesome Pretty Girl
  AKA- The Sugary sweet college sweetheart.
Doppleganger: Your campus's version of a Godly Blake Lively in Accepted.
Theme Song: Sixpence None the Richer's "Kiss Me"
Admit it. If you weren't her, somewhere deep down, you wanted to be. And if you were her, chances are, you had no idea. Be on the lookout for this one. She will be followed by all of the "Christian College Douchebags" that will be claiming they have seen the light.



4. The Chiristian College Douchebag
  AKA- Most of the freshman class
Doppleganger: Pauly D
Theme Song: It varies... Could be Kanye. Could be Jason Derulo. Just depends on how douchey this guy wants to be.
Ick. You know this guy. If I'm as right as I know I am, chances are, you've thought about giving this guy a untrue tip about a collar popping techinque clinic on the bad side of town. This guy goes to a Christian  college for one of two reasons. A- his parents made him, or B- he thinks it will be fun to be the "bad guy". The problem with this guy is, in a nutshell, everything. He seems to think he's quite the badass, I just feel bad about those things I wrote about him in the girls bathroom.... and on facebook..... and on his car.....
Nemesis: Anyone who is an actual badass and could expose him.



5. The Christian College Poster Child
   AKA- The hearthrob
Doppleganger: Channing Tatum in "She's The Man"
Theme Song: Frank Sinatra's "My way"
You know this guy. He kicked that soccerball through the goal posts of your heart. He threw the winning touchdown into your love. He made the game winning three-pointer that coincidentaly won your affections. Every Christian college has one. He's hot. He's rich (because his parents own half the school) and he knows it. Stay away from this one. Or don't.... totally up to you.
Nemesis: Any girl that doesn't fall for his obvious heart melting charm. Also, the Christian College Douche-bag.





6. The Token Christian College Black Guy

AKA- ghetto enough to stand out- not ghetto enough to survive Toledo, Ohio's north end.
Doppleganger: Ludacris while he was attending Bob Jones University
Theme Song: DJ Kahled's "I'm So Hood"... that, or "Welcome to My Hood" ft. Rick Ross.
Hey. He had a tattoo. He was a shoe-in for the basketball team, and he had an afro. He was legit, right? WRONG. You will be able to spot this guy from a hood mile away. He was ghetto enough to stand out- not ghetto enough to hold is own in a Biggie Smalls/Tupac shootout. Beware of this guy. He may tell you he's been shot more times than 50 cent, but chances are- those scars are actually from a pellet gun.

7. The Christian College Bad Seed
    AKA- who the hell let her in this place?
Theme Song: I don't know what satan is listening to these days, but I'm sure it ryhmes with Schmady Smaga.
This college student is really a bad seed. They attend movies in actual theatres. They wear jeans to Target. They blare Eminem's greatest hits on their way back into campus. They sneak out after curfew. They watch tv shows on the internet. They mean well, and they.are.ME.




I hope this small, quick, informative guide has helped you realize what you're in for, as a Christian college attendee. Just remember- if you can get past the crazy rules, the strict teaachers,  and the rap hating psychos, you will have a BLAST. or you will get kicked out. I'm positive it's one of those two things. =)

What do you think? Did I miss someone? Who do you think is a staple at Christian colleges all over the country?

Nicki Minaj and the truth about librarians.........

I can't make up my mind.

I just really CANNOT decide.

I mean, I will make my most educated decision, but I just can't seem to come to a solid conclusion.

I don't know if I'm 100% sure what song NSYNC will open with on their inevitable reunion tour.

My head says "Bye, Bye, Bye", but my heart is SCREAMING "Dirty Pop". 

Either way, it will be phenomenal. I don't care if Chris still has those God-awful dreads. I don't care if Lance brings his boyfriend on stage to perform "This I Promise You". I don't even care if Joey Fat-one does that thing where he pretends he's Greek. I really don't. I don't even care if they open with "Here We Go". It will be a night of magic- this I can be sure of. 

There are just some things I have to witness, and NSYNC's "Break a Hip/Hop" Tour is DEFINENTLY one of these things. I've always been that way. I never wanted to miss anything. When I was younger, I was sure that when I went to bed and finally closed my eyes, something awesome would happen.

My dad would invent cold fusion.

My mom would slip up and say a bad word.

My nieces would say something cute and adorable.

Everything cool happens after you go to sleep. Everyone knows that. It's a fact. Like the effect of video games on children, or garden gnomes coming to life. In reality, my dad would play a hot game of solitaire at the kitchen table, my mom would read, and my nieces would sneak pieces of Kraft sliced cheese, cans of Mountain Dew, and watch "Bring It On" . However, in my defense, solitaire can be a pretty kick A game with Larry Little at the helm.

My dad was awesome. He was like Burt Reynolds, Tommy Lee Jones and 50 Cent- all rolled into one. Burt Reynolds because he was rugged, Tommy Lee Jones because of the ears, and I think it's obvious- 50 Cent because of the false teeth and over all ability to freestyle rap.

My dad would say "old timer" things like "golly" and "Hey, slick!" and "bitches be crazy". Ok, I made one of those things up.

To make a long story longer, my dad rocked. Period. And before he left this earth to kick it with Jesus, he taught me some pretty great lessons. Some took years, some took minutes, but they will last a lifetime. One of the things I inherited from my dad, is a low tolerance for douchebaggery.
Fo sho.

And in the spirit of missing my dad, I have decided to write a strongly worded letter to the 3 people that are getting on my nerves the most, this very moment. Fortunately for them, I'm unemployed- so I can't afford 3 stamps.

1. Dear Nicki Minaj-

        My toothbrush is more badass than you. If I threw a bandanna on my box of Irish Spring soap, I would take it in a fight, any day. I sincerely want to puke everytime I hear you "rap". In one of your "songs", you mention the fear that a bum might attempt to touch you. I want to give said bum a purple heart. Also, I've coordinated with 754 of Toledo, Ohio's homeless and on my count, they will all be licking you in the face. In other news, your pink hair- looks ridiculous. Also, I know you think you're a force to be reckoned with, but let's be honest. 55 pound, Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds is more threatening than you. That is all.

 

                         V.

2. Dear Homophobic Conservatives-

      Earlier today, I wrote singer/songwriter Nicki Minaj a letter. I expressed my desire for a bum to lick her in the face. I can only hope to round up a few hundred gays, and encourage them to do the same. And let me make this clear, they won't be like, half-way in the closet gay. No- not for you, my intolerant, homophobic nut cases. For you, I'm thinking less Ryan Seacrest, more Jack from Will & Grace. Enjoy!

PS- I have programmed every single on of your ringtones to blare Lady GaGa's "Born This Way". No thanks necessary. Also, I put your man-seeking-man profile on eharmony. You're welcome.

                                                                

                                                                                     

                                                                         

                                

V.

                      

3. Dear Librarian that acts personally offended when I am late returning my items,

         I didn't realize that I was checking out your personal copy of Jackass 3. My apologies. However, the disapproving look that you shoot my way, when I was only 2 days late returning it, was bordering on psychotic. In other news, I KNOW that "Does God Know How to Tie Shoes?" is out and overdue. You see to it, that myself and everyone else in the Rossford Public Library is reminded everytime I step foot into your establishment. Even if I had it, you can't have it back now. And let me assure you, that if I knew anything about God's lacing abilities, you would be the last one to know! Yup. Russell Brand will know before you do. In unrelated news, where does all of my fine money go? Come on. You can tell me. It's Pizza Friday's isn't it? You act like I am sharing BFF bracelets with OJ and Casey Anthony when I roll in a few days late with One Tree Hill Season 2 under my arm, but the minute you are in possession of those crisp George Washingtons, you magically transform, in some Optimus Prime turn of events, into Betty Freaking White. I'm onto you.

PS- I hid all of the Madea movies somewhere in the Non-Fiction section. Search is on, biotch!

                                                                             V. 

Phew. I feel much better.

What person, or group of persons, really just sets your teeth on edge?

No one? You never get annoyed, and you love all of God's creatures equally?

Oh.... this is awkward. =)

WARNING: This is a LAZY post! Also, I'm going to miss Ryan Dunn......

I could not work with him.
Period.

Those are the words that my sister says to me every time we tune into A&E for our daily dose of Criminal Minds. Yes, my dear friends- she is referring to the amazing, crime-fighting, tall glass of chocolate milk that is Shemar Moore.

**Ok, this is officially a lazy post. I'm not even going to make you click on links today, I'm just going to show you everything you need to see, right here on this very page.**

Exhibit 1-

yesss... See, my sister Lenice, seems to be under the assumption that it would be difficult to work with this guy on a daily basis. I disagree.

This may the unemployed side of me talking, but I would have NO reservations working with Shemar Moore. Actually I have a few film ideas I would like to run by him. Criminal Hinds, perhaps?.... Underthecover Boss? Covert Affairs? Law&Order: S.E.X? 

JUST KIDDING. That was a joke. And also why I don't tell my mom the web address for my blog. =)

All kidding aside, I enjoy Criminal Minds. I love the thrill of hunting down criminals. I love Shemar Moore. I even love the nerdy guy with weird hair. There is not a bad side to this show. Well, I suppose some would say it's the high percentage of homicides, but whatever.

I love TV. I'm a fan. It's fun. It's entertaining.

As some/most of you know, on Monday, Ryan Dunn of the Jackass films, died in a car crash. =(

This was really sad news to yours truly. As you know, I absolutely adore inappropriate humor, therefore I  L-O-V-E Jackass, and like a moth to a flame, I enjoyed Ryan Dunn's sense of humor pretty much most of all the guys.

Exhibit 2-

That's a google image of Ryan Dunn. Hysterical. Tons of tattoos, smoked like a chimney, and to anyone who watched Viva la Bam, he was the beloved best friend. The second in command.  

Bam Margera, renowned skateboard champ and runner-up for "Son of the Year" , was a BFF to Ryan Dunn, and here is the link to the video of Bam visiting the site of the car accident for the first time: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZ9mYjYlNS0

At the risk of being a voyeur, I would encourage you to watch the video. It's wicked sad. I cried- don't judge.

This guy, who has made some serious "chedda" making millions of people laugh, weeps at the loss of his BFF. His pal. His amigo. His best friend.

Exhibit 3-

 

I think it's horrible. I cannot imagine losing my best friend. You know, I lost my dad to cancer in 2006. It is still hard to deal with. But a best friend......? A best friend is the one you go to, when your dad dies of cancer in 2006. A best friend is the one who doesn't judge you when you make mistakes. A best friend doesn't bitch slap you when you make her watch all 5 seasons of Viva la Bam over and over. A best friend will roll her eyes and go with you to see Jackass in theatres. A best friend is just that- the best.

I'm writing this blog today, from a bad place. We are going on two months here in Ohio, and still no job. Minimal money, my car wouldn't start yesterday, and on a unrelated note, I ran out of deodorant this morning and had to use my nephew's Degree Anti- persperiant. (There are two things wrong with this- 1. He bought it a month ago, and it looks like it has barely been used and 2. I'm sitting in the Rossford Library smelling like a 13 year old boy.)

Yea, life isn't super right now- but I'm going to try and enjoy it. And appreciate the BEST things in life.

So- in order to lighten the mood and try to encourage you to read my next blog that I PROMISE will be funnier..... I have made a list of the Top 5 things I've told my BFF, Alannah that I am absolutely sure- made her cringe.......

THE LIST:

1. "Hey, you know what? I'm totally like Bam from Jackass, and you are totally like Ryan Dunn. We should try off-road tattooing, then lets put an alligator in my mom's house, and see if we can get her to say the F word!"

2. "Hey, you know what? We should TOTALLY open our own Karaoke Bar!!!!"

3. "Hey, you know what? I can't believe I've had 2 bottles of this wine already! I dont' feel a thing!"

4. "Hey, you know what? I have a great, fool proof plan to make a quick buck. You in?"

5. "Hey, you know what? I think I'm going to start my own blog. You know, cause I have great grammar skillz. Oh, skill with a "z" is not acceptable. My bad."

There you go.

 Love your bff and appreciate the time. And also, if your bored, rent all the seasons of Viva la Bam. You won't be disappointed. =)

In closing, I will leave you with the following inspirational quote:

"In life, a good friend will bail you out of jail. A BEST FRIEND, will be sitting next to you saying, "Well, I say next time, we wear masks."

Megan Fox, and the Truth About Gas Stoves........

They called me Spike.

If I wrote a Russell Brand-esqe memoir of why I am, the way that I am- aside from the cover having me dressed up like Lady GaGa in the "Born This Way" video, this story I'm about to tell, would probably be a focal chapter. Well, either I would be dressed like GaGa or Megan Fox from Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen... you know- that part in the desert... with Shia Lebouf.... It would DEFINITELY be one of those 2 things. It could be a bestseller!! It would be called, "All-aboard the LTRAYNE"..... Just promise me now, that when you go into Books-A-Million and see the cardboard cutout of me dressed like a conductor, that you wont push it over.... or burn it.... Instead, take a picture of yourself with it and post it to Facebook and Twitter... With the tag-line: "I guess the LTRAYNE stops in (_insert your city here_). That would be awesome.

Yes- as I was saying....
They called me Spike.
My entire Senior year of high school, all of the boys in my class, called me "Spike". Before we light the torches and go after these mean boys like the cartoon village people in Beauty and the Beast, I have to confess- they were right. I.Had.A.Spike.
And let me assure you, that similar to most of my hijinks- It all started off innocently enough......

I had a babysitting job up north.
The kids were hungry.
They wanted hot dogs.
There was an oven.
Umm..... a GAS OVEN.
Now, like Billy Crystal in City Slickers, my knowledge of the great north, was limited to chewing tobacco and Boone's Farm.
Well, that didn't seem to matter much to the northern forest gods, as I was about to be educated in the art of flammable materials.
Yup- as you guessed it!
I turned the burner knob to high, and then it happened. Like your friendly neighborhood meth lab, the bottom right burner IGNITED.
As in, BLEW UP!!!!

I should be thankful.
I really should be.
Thankful that I wasn't wearing hairspray... or gasoline.
I should be thankful.....

So there you go. I may or may not have singed off approximately a 1 and a half inch radius of hair directly above my right eyebrow.... Right at the forehead... for all to see.  
And that is how the story of Spike was born. 
Ok fine..... there's one more thing....
The hair would grow back and stick DIRECTLY out in front of me- as if I were some overweight, brunette unicorn. And so what would I do?
I would cut it.
Yes, friends. For a good seven or eight months, I would cut off the spikey hair patch, and then strategically place my bangs over said area. If the hair would get too long, it would be cut.

Then came that fateful day. Graduation Pictures.

"To Cut the spike- or to not cut the spike"

*go to page 73 if you think Leanne cuts the spike and then spends the next hour and a half, crying in the bathroom.
*go to page 55 if you think Leanne doesn't cut the spike, and instead uses massive amounts of DEB styling gel to form her mane into a HUGE faux hawk.
-if you guessed page 73, you would be right.
-if you guessed page 55, who are you!??! Do you even know me at all!?!? WTF?!?!?!

Yes.... like a heorin addict back to the needle- I picked up those blue handled scissors. And with shaky hands, an even shakier heart, and what (I'm sure to be) some Alanis Morriessette song playing in the backgroud, I cut the spike.
I DIDN'T WANT TO DO IT!!! YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME!!!!
But much like Tiger Wood's wife with a nine iron- I did what had to be done.
Do I regret it?
I can't say that I do....
See- life is like that sometimes.....

Sometimes we deal with things in the wrong way.
Sometimes we continue cutting the spike.
Sometimes, similar to Zach Morris, we keep getting ourselves into trouble.
And, sometimes, we devise some crazy scam and then have to use our imppecable blond hair and acid washed jeans to charm our way out of it...
Wait- what?!
My sister always tells me " Insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results".
Pretty wise, huh?
I think so.

So, let's stop cutting the spike. Let's stop being a dumbass. K?
K.

*Thanks for reading this blog, and I promise next week will be funnier and WAY MORE WITTY!!! =)*

The lesson Mary-Kate Olsen taught me, that Ashley never could.

"Yes. Yes, you are."

That is what the flannel wearing, Budweiser drinking, Joe Dirt doppleganger told me when I asked him the simple, yet pertinent question- "Are we in the parade?".

Now in order for you, as the reader, to fully appreciate this scenario, I must rewind a few hours. Earlier that lovely Saturday, my niece Zahra, my nephew Ethan and myself piled into my mint condition 2002 Ford Taurus, affectionately named Talan, and drove to the center of scenic AuGres, Michigan. We parked Talan, and found our spot on the grassy knoll, with a plethora of other classic car enthusiasts. Ok, the truth? We were bored and thought it might be fun to watch and possibly mock the plethora of classic car enthusiasts. So, for a good 30 minutes, we watched and waved as tons of old makes and models puttered through the streets. After a while of this adventure, Zahra, Ethan and I were getting antsy. We decided to go pick up Zahra's friend and be on our way. After making weaving through the crowd of crazies, we hopped in Talan and began our journey. At first, everything appeared normal. Sure, people were still sitting on the curb with lawn chairs and beer, but it was, afterall, AuGres, Michigan. Then.... the further we went, a few things jumped out at me. First, the aforementioned beer drinkers, were spraying water ALL OVER the road. Secondly, they were yelling things like, "PEEL OUT!!!" and "Show us what this Ford's got!!!!" Thirdly, some people were giving us the finger. 

Then, like Kristen Stewart in the Twilight Saga, realizing that she should find better company than vampires and werewolves, it all became clear. Crystal clear. We.Were.In.The.Parade. 

I'm embarrassed. There we were, smack dab in the middle of an awkward sandwich- circa 1963. So- what did we do? We embraced the suck. We swallowed our pride, ignored our obvious ignorance into the quite intricate classic car circuit, and we paraded our little hearts out! We waved. We smiled. I think we even found some random mints in my back seat to throw out the window to the kids. I was like the freaking parade queen and the crowd LOVED me. I was on fire. 

Yes... my car, the great Talan, has seen his fair share of adventure. Talan keeps me on my toes. Talan once decided to take a personal day on the way to Ohio in the pouring rain, in an area of the country that I can only assume was the inspiration for such Blockbusters as The Hills Have Eyes and Jeepers Creepers. Talan has been through the ringer. To assist you in your understanding of the beast,  below is a list of Talan's Fun Facts:

1. The number of famous people Talan has driven. (Michael Salgado, aka the mexican Justin Timberlake)

2. The number of engines Talan has gone through.

3. The number of people that have puked in my car.

4. The number of unidentifiable stains Talan has accrued over the last 9 years.

5. The number of times that Talan has scratched my Britney Spear's Greatest Hits cd. 

Yes, Talan has had his fair share of expeditions, and I can honestly say, that similar Knight Ryder, that car TALKED TO ME. THAT CAR LOVED ME. And I loved him. 

However, if LOST has taught us nothing else, we have learned that all good things must come to an end. Sometimes you have to wake up from that amazing dream you were having about Tyson Beckford. Sometimes you have to say goodbye to that amazing friend. And sometimes, you are half a mile away from home, and some Vin Diesel wannabe decides to try his hand at Tokyo Drifting... into your car.... The same car that once would not release your Maroon Five cd from the player for 3 weeks. 

Yes. Talan has been considered, by the Liberty Mutual Insurance Group, a total loss.

The cold hard facts:

broken back axle. 

The BFF and I were almost home last Wednesday, when out of nowhere, a lead footed male that shall remain nameless, blew through a stop sign and into the side of us. If the BFF hadn't seen him coming, we would have been completely TBoned, and I'm not sure how I would be writing this blog right now. Unless heaven has wi-fi. Which, I'm sure it does. So on second thought, I would still be writing this blog, but I would totally let Jesus do a guest post. =) So, after we waited 2 hours for a tow truck, I got the privilege of going through the issues of insurance. I am now close to purchasing a new (to me) car, and hopefully I will be back on track. 

So, I ask myself.... what do I do? What do I do when I lose the only thing I had left of my dead father. What do I do when something completely out of my control, ruins a goodly portion of my month. What do I do, when life isn't fair? After a week of tears, prayers and fetal positions, I have decided what I do.

I, my friends, embrace the suck.

In the movie Beastly, Mary-Kate Olsen plays this crazy girl that casts a spell on the hottie of the movie, in order to teach him inner beauty. And after she does this, she encourages him to "embrace the suck". I laughed when I heard it. I didn't get it, at first. There are many things I would like to embrace- Zac Efron, pizza, also the entire cast of GLEE..... but the suck- the random crappy-ness of life..... I'll pass.

To embrace the suck, sucks. I assure you of this fact. Life can suck. I won't lie to you about that. satan is a total douchebag, and thanks to his clever sales pitch in the Garden of Eden, we are subject to the suck. However, we don't have to fear it. We don't even have to ignore it. Sometimes, we have to embrace it. 

This week, I have been a biotch fo sho- I have snapped at people that were trying to help me, I've questioned God's love for me multiple times, and I wont even start to list the amount of Eminem songs that I have compared to my own life. (You know, because a broken down Taurus is EXACTLY like having a drunken mother and no father)

I've been far from a trusting Christian. If the trusting Christian is Amy Grant, I'm Ke$ha. If patience is Yao Ming, I'm the world's shortest man. Yes, I fell victim to the suck. I allowed it to put me over the edge. However, I've decided I don't want to do it anymore. I instead, have decided to take a page out of Jesus's book (The Bible- perhaps you've heard of it), and embrace said, suck. We just celebrated Easter, and this entire week, I failed to remember, that Jesus didn't simply ignore his doom, or throw a fit about it. He, in some ways, embraced it. Jesus realized what He had to do, and He did it. And it sucked. 

I'm gonna try to be a little less Leanne, and a little more Jesus. 

I'm going to embrace the suck that life brings, because God's got my back, and he can turn the suck into something amazing.... He's taken many gross situations and made them good. He can do it with anything. Except for that new show Mob Wives.... and also, maybe The Situation.

**Thanks for reading! Hope this post wasn't too depressing!!!** =)