WARNING!!!! This blog is about nothing. Also- BACON.

** For the full illustrated effect, please click on the links throughout this blog **


Zac Efron.


Pizza. 


Rhianna.


Chickfila.


Mark Salling.


Four of the above- mentioned items are amazing. They are pretty, happy, heavenly things that have been exquisitely wrapped in bacon. One of these things has fire engine red hair, and the ability to make me both homicidal and suicidal, simultanesouly.


I work in a business park. Be jealous. Yes, I have my very own 9-5 office setting of bliss. Across the road, lies Mecca- also known as-The Circle K. My co-workers and I often make the trek to "the 'K", before and after work, or on our lunch break. Why? you may ask. The answer is easy. F'REAL. Yes. F'REAL. No, I'm not talking in some random "jive" "hipster" Vanilla Ice lingo. A F'REAL is a beverage ney- an experience of wondrous sorts. First, you select a cup of frozen greatness from a freezer below the counter. After extracting the dainty foil lid with a cute, encouraging saying, you insert your cup into the F'REAL machine. OFF WE GO!!! UP, UP AND AWAY!!!! Your frozen cup of nothingness is transformed into a thing of beauty. Like a butterfly emerging from the cacoon, your F'REAL descends from its glorious perch, to bring you good tidings... Your F'REAL is ready.
Sometimes I have a rough day. Sometimes, my nephew Ethan and four of his closest friends, purchase $5 bb guns from the Ohio South of the Border Festival, and shoot me with them all night. Sometimes I try chewing tobacco for the first time, and throw up all.over.Michigan. And sometimes, the toddler that the YMCA pays me $8.00 an hour to supervise, pees on me. Yup, sometimes thing are rough, but I know that I can settle into a nice F'REAL at the end of a long day. When I bring that milkshake, malt or smoothie to my lips, I feel as if the Circle K has conversed into my own sweet, sweet oasis. Everything is right in the world. Mark Salling and Zac Efron are there- shirtless, vying for my attention. Chickfila and Marcos Pizza are present, as well, fully clothed, serving delicious chicken minis and pizza pies! Chris Brown is smacking around Rhianna in the corner. Oh wait, I guess she decided she likes that.... now. But, I digress. (as I often do) 


Bottom Line: I LOVE that F'REAL machine. If i thought it was possible and it wouldn't land me behind bars, I would do my utmost to pro-create with this machine. But really, I just want the BFF to design a distraction, and I will Winona Ryder my way out of the Circle K. I want to steal it. 


If we're not counting Backstreet Boys sensation Nick Carter's heart, I have never stolen anything in my entire life. I've had something stolen from me once, though. I had my BRAND NEW mint chocolate phone STOLEN from me, by whom I can only assume was satan himself, at an American Eagle while shopping with Arielle and Zahra. RECAP: Never stolen anything. However, I'd be willing to break that claim, if it was for that piece of metallic euphoria. (ok, that sounded.... bad?)


Someone told me something funny one time. They told me that "stealing something" was on their bucket list. Hmmm.... not sure how I feel about that. I know bucket lists are fun, and they can make you really step out of your comfort zone, but I don't know how I feel about stepping out of the comfort zone and into the Fox River State Pen. #justsayin... Alas, I do have a bucket list... and #1- MEET EMINEM. 


Don't care how it happens. Don't care if it's legal. (Because as we both know, my love for this fast talking adonis, super-cedes the laws of this natural world) I'm gonna make it happen. And when I do, I need to know what to say. Ok, lets be honest- aside from ripping off my shirt to reveal my Eminem full-back tattoo complete with old english letters, I probably won't do anything. Shock will more than likely set in, and I will become mute. (Oh, hallelujah! The day Mary Louise has been waiting for!) So- I decided, that in order to save myself the awkward, embarrassing moment that I'm sure we will one day laugh about and tell our grandchildren, I will simply hand him "The List" below. YES. I have made a list of all the things that Eminem and I have in common. After reading this, he will know we are meant to be together. What do you think?


1. Eminem is from Michigan, I am from Michigan.
     Sure, he's from the large metropolitan area of Detroit, and my hometown had one stop light, but come on! We're practically married already. 
2. We both call soda, "pop".
     That's completely legit.
3. He grew up on the 8 Mile, my parents owned a house on 8 Mile. 
     Ok, so one 8 Mile was on "the wrong side of the trax" in D-Town and Mary Louise and Larry resided in Pinconning, MI. But coincidence? I THINK NOT.
4. Eminem had blonde hair, my nieces have blonde hair.
     Ok, some might say that this is a stretch, but its definently not!! I mean, what are the odds?!?
5. He likes to wear over-sized grey sweatpants, I am over sized.
6. He has a song named "Stan", I used to work with a guy named Stan.
     Sure, Stan was a 50 year old man with sausage fingers, but the similarities are there!!
7. Eminem has a crazy mother, my sisters have a crazy mother.
     See that? How I took the heat off of me?? GENIUS.
8. Eminem talks fast,
     everyone but God has toldmethatIspeaktoofastbutIdon'tcarewhattheysayEminemcanunderstandmejustfinethankyouverymuch.
9. Eminem had a prescription drug problem, I take apx. 17 Excedrin a day. 
10. Eminem writes songs about his crazy ass family. If I were to write songs, they would, most likely be about my crazy ass family. The album would be called "How Much Time Do You Have?" It would go platinum. My 1st hit, "White Trash/Pretty House" would ignite Billboard's Top 100 with the fire of a Taco Bell Volcano Cheesy Double Beef Burrito. In my ballad, "Run", I would regale fans with my account of the time Arielle chased Ethan around the front yard of my mom's new house, with a rifle. (ok, it was a bb gun, but it looked really scary!) And finally, my dance/techno club jam "The Smudge" would light up dance floors across America, with recollections of Zahra putting her bare rear end up against my mother's picture window. 


Well, there's my list. The TOP 10 Reasons Eminem and I could go the distance. If I notice the list going south, I have a back up plan. I intend to throw on my grey hoodie and rap "Lose Yourself". So good or no good? 


What about you? What's #1 on your bucket list? 

The Observer...

TV. I LOVE it. It can make you laugh, cry, and if you're my sister Lenice, and it's Michigan football season, it can also give you a very unique form of Tourettes Syndrome. 
Drama. Comedy. Action. No matter what the subject, sometimes it's just fun to waste some time in front of the ole' "boob tube". Yes. I called it that. What?!? My parents were old when they had me, and that's why I have weird looking thumbs, call my wallet my pocket book and say things like "boob tube". So there. Also, my parents' age at the time of my birth, explains my mild case of ADH- Oh LOOK!!! A shiny piece of metal! Wait. Where was I? Oh, that's right. TV. I LOVE IT. 
LOST was my all time favorite show, and now, similar to Michael Jackson, it is gone. too soon? Although ESPN, The Office and GLEE have done their best to fill the mysterious island sized void in my heart, recently,  they have been accompanied in their efforts, by FOX's scientific thriller: Fringe. 


Fringe is a show my BFF encouraged me to start watching a few months ago. It is awesome! Mystery, science, humor and also: Dawson's Creek breakout heartthrob Joshua Jackson!! So, I'm watching Fringe on DVD and I'm almost halfway through the 2nd season. In every episode, there is one common character that presents himself. He is called "The Observer". The Observer is hella creepy. He just observes the "goings ons" around the globe. So far, there are three of these scary men, and they all look the same. And by same, I mean, a less hot version of Matt Hasselbeck, QB for the Seahawks. They wear black suits, black hats, eat lots of pepper on their food, and I'm approximately 73.6% sure that at least one of them is living in my closet. All of that, is the creepy part. 
There is a sad part. The sad part is, that they just observe. They are NOT ALLOWED TO REACT. They have been around forever. They have witnessed the sinking of the Titanic. They remember the Alamo. They witnessed Lincoln's assassination. But that's it. Those crazy men weren't able to save Leo from that huge ass iceberg, they weren't able to- well, you know, participate in whatever happened at the Alamo, and they weren't able to chase after Boothe, or high-five him- whichever side of the coin they found themselves on. They.just.watched. BORING!!!!!


I've recently decided that I don't want to be an observer. It sucks raw eggs. I want to be a do-er. Now don't get me wrong, I've had some smashing good times just observing. I once observed my niece Arielle attempt to exhibit her historical knowledge by telling me that Anne Frank was the lady who wouldn't go to the back of the bus. I've observed an open pack of Levitra in my parent's dresser. (WTF?!?!) And finally, I've observed how not amused certain people can become when you attempt to reenact entire portions of "Billy Madison" at their expense. Yes. I've done my fair share of observing, and its great. But come on!!! We don't want to be a generation of watchers do we? 


I would encourage you to NOT be just another observer. Let's make a change! We have been standing on the sidelines for far too long!!! (que Gangsta's Paradise background music) 


We need to rise up! So I think that from now on, I'm gonna tell that extra joke. I'm going to give that extra smile, and I'm going to take a page out of my man Eminem's book and "stop living down there, and start living up here!" (8MILE reference!! woot woot!)  Let's do it!


Because in the end, the Observers may have pimp-tastic fedora hats and their own 897 character written language, but they don't have any of their own experiences. They have nothing to show for their time. No scars, no broken hearts, and certainly no collectable shot glasses. I'm ok with a few scratches, a few tears and maybe even a few hospital bands- I think it is well worth the life of a do-er. =) 

Douche-bag-ery: A How To Guide.

My niece Arielle, came down to Florida to visit me last week. We had an awesome time! While my precious 21 year old niece was here, we ate way too much, slept way too little, and we found a moderate amount of trouble to get into. One of the exciting things we did while she was here, was the Plant City Strawberry Festival. The festival means one thing. CHOCOLATE COVERED BACON!!! While we were waiting in line, something extremely ridiculous happened. Three teenage boys were waiting in line, and while they did, one of the kids, we'll call him douche-bag 1, continued to use the "f" word. No, not even that "f" word... The teenager did not stop using the word faggot and/or fag the entire time we were in line. All I could do was pray to God that he would send a steroid ridden gay man with a taste for chocolate covered bacon to our line at that exact second. I CANNOT handle douche-bag-ery like this. When did we as a society, decide it is acceptable to treat people disrespectfully just because they are different? So, in the light of these #dumbass children, I have decided that everyone should embrace their inner douchebag. Not sure how? No problem! Below, is a fool proof plan to successfully become a douchebag. Feel free to use any or all of these things! Let the douche-bag-ery begin!

TO BE A DOUCHEBAG:
1. HATE ON THE GAYS.
     Hey! Lets all persecute one group of people based on a single characteristic of their life! We should also try to take away some of their rights as Americans. No, I promise it will be great! You don't think so? Well, all I know is that it worked out awesome for the blacks and the Jews!
2. PARK YOUR CAR AT THE PUMP, THEN DON'T GET GAS, BUT INSTEAD GO INSIDE, BUY A MONSTER ENERGY DRINK AND THEN LEAVE.
    Dear unidentified Rossford, Ohio driver,
       Do it one more time. I dare you. No, go ahead. However, be warned. The next time you park your fancy nancy car next to the pump and don't buy gas, I will cram that Monster can so far down your throat...... ok, Drive Safe!
3. PRETEND YOU'RE HURT AT WALMART SO YOU CAN RIDE THE MOTORIZED SCOOTERS. aka MY NEPHEW.
    The freedom of the road. The breeze in your hair as you fly by the frozen foods. There is an intoxicating thrill that you receive when you are riding those lanes like the Sons of Anarchy around Walmart in that scooter. However, there is a price to pay. The price of douche-bag-ery.
4. LITTER. ALL THE TIME.
    Go ahead. Throw your 55 oz. styrofoam cup and plastic lid out the window. You deserve it. You've had a long day. The 13 year old boy who crashed his Walmart scooter into the security guard then spent the next 30 minutes yelling "I've Got My Rights!!!" will need something to pick up during community service. Of course, I'm not sure how the endangered Misalka Eagle feels about you polluting his home. I would ask him, but he's dead. Blunt force trauma to the skull via Big Gulp.
5. MESS WITH MY FAMILY.
   You know how they have those TV shows where the people are screwing with the baby moose, and then the mother comes onto the scene, guns blazing like Will Smith and Martin Lawrence in Bad Boys 2, "BLUE POWER! MOTHER F-"... I digress... They should make a show called "Overprotective Aunt". It could air right after the Jersey Shore. It would be alot of me yelling. All the time. Don't mess  with my fam. I'm not afraid to hand out ass kickin's like starburst.
6. REF LITTLE LEAGUE BASKETBALL AND HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE DOING.
   I'm not normally a belligerent person. Really, I'm not. However, when the state of Ohio decides to employee blind referees to officiate my nephew's basketball games, I get a bit testy. I swear some of these refs don't know the difference between a basketball and a basket- something witty. It's ok though, because in addition to being blind, most of these refs barely push 5 foot. Super.
7. WEAR A BLUETOOTH.
   I'm 99% confident that when Mattel finally takes my advice and comes out with the "douche-bag" barbie, in addition to having "The Situation's" body and a spray tan, there will be a standard issue bluetooth headset. I think it goes without saying. If you follow numbers 1-6 to a T, PLEASE don't neglect the hands free cellular device. I mean, how are people going to know that you are a douchebag if you are using a normal cell phone. It's embarrassing. I mean, holding the phone up to your ear? What are you- a caveman? You might as well be wearing acid wash jeans and one earring.

I hope these 7 tips help you become in tune, and release your inner douchebag. Because after all, if you can't beat 'em.... park at the gas pump, buy them all Monsters and bluetooths, then throw the cans out the window. But if you could do me one favor, try to hit a ref while you're at it. =)

*** Thanks for listening to me rant!!! ***
Also, a special thanks to my BFF for inventing the term "douche-bag-ery".... =)

Hash Tags: #ICan'tDecideHowIFeelAboutYouLittleGuys......

Unless you've been living under a rock for the last year, or you are my mother Mary Louise, you know and respect the wonder that is Twitter. Twitter is the new Instant Message. In less than like, 160 characters (I think) you can update your life. I have a twitter, and I follow a few people like Eminem, Jon Acuff and also, don't judge: I follow snooki.... =) Even though I suck at twitter, most of the time, I am fascinated by the Twitter feature, hash tag-ing.
Ok Mary Louise, hash tags are these little things you can put at the end of your tweet. A simple # sign and then "whateveryouwanttowrite"... No spaces? No problem! However, the absolute coolest thing about the hashtag is that you can actually click on your #ht and see anyone else who has posted the same thing.
Sooooo......... when your 12 yr old, 200+ pound nephew who seriously perceives himself to be equal in size to a small lap dog,  runs Matrix style up the front of your mint condition 2002 Ford Taurus, you can quickly assess the situation with a (hashtag) #dumbass. <---- The beauty of the hashtag, ladies and gentlemen!!! And if that's not enough, (THATS NOT ENOUGH!!) Later, after you mourn the loss of a good, strong windshield, you can click on your hashtag and see who else has claimed dumbass-ed-ness on their twitter. This is my absolute favorite thing to do. It's awesome to realize that some random person and myself could have something in common. Oh, my nephew has the bodily awareness of a ghord? Your son ate an entire 64 pack of Crayolas? You slipped on a patch of ice at the gas station and the Speedway workers play back the footage every hour on the hour? AWESOME! Let's be friends on facebook!

#Seriouslythough....
    I love the sense of community that these hashtags promote. So this idea had me thinking.... I kinda wish that the church could hashtag a few things. I don't mean, walking around with signs that say #Ilovekillingpeople or #Ithinkimugly, but I do think that God wants us to be real. If we as the church could show people that we know their issues are legit, and other people deal with the same struggles, maybe we could build a hashtag community. Let's try to be a little more transparent from now on, ok?  #justsayin'

DISCLAIMER: my nephew is really not a dumbass all that often. He's super smart and absolutely HILARIOUS! But come on..... really, Ethan?!?! The windshield looks like we got shot up in Detroit!!!

My first blog.... in Trebuchet

Well, here I am. With the encouragement of my BFF Alannah, I have decided to begin writing a blog. I assume that I should start this first number, with a little get to know me activity. How fun, right? Well I am going to write 10 things about myself, and you can write in the comments and tell me which one is your favorite. Super fun game. OK-
1. I LOVE GOD. I suck at being a Christian 98% of the time, but Jesus loves me, so there. =)
2. I LOVE my family. I have a wonderful mother, 3 awesome sisters, 2 nieces and one nephew. My family is pretty freaking amazing and I thank #1 for them every day. 
3. I LOVE my friends. I'm a bit crazy... as in OCD.... as in I start itching the same spot in my arm if we are going to be late to the movie... as in, I switch the lights on and off 3 times before I leave a room, and then tell myself its because I like the "party-like strobe effect". My friends don't smack me too often. So I <3 them. 
4. I LOVE inappropriate humor. If I had a dollar for every time I cracked a "thats what she said" joke, I would have already bought that slightly used NOW That's What I Call Music 13 cd from ebay user BRDIDER 414 instead of having to wait till tomorrow when I get paid.
5. I LOVE TV. A few of my favs? The Office, LOST [rip], Fringe,  GLEE, anything on ESPN, The Game, Pretty Little Liars [don't judge], Sons of Anarchy, and Weeds.
6. I LOVE MOVIES. A few of my favs? Light it Up, Hairspray, Wedding Crashers, and any dance movie that makes me feel inadequate about my abilities to pop, lock and drop it.
7. I LOVE FOOD. I admit it, I'm not a good, healthy eater. I love pizza, popcorn, wings and if you attempt a salad maneuver on me, I will annilate you. Unless there is bacon. Then we're on. =)
8. I LOVE making people laugh. Seriously. When someone is having a good time, and laughing, I'm happy.
9. I LOVE SPORTS. My favs are basketball and football. I admire Kobe Bryant, Blake Griffin, Peyton Manning and the DETROIT LIONS! [well, I admire their mascot. Don't f with a Lion. It may be the last thing you ever do.]
10. I LOVE things that don't make sense. My un-explainable love for Eminem, how many blessings God kicks my way and how incredibly good looking I am. Ok, one of those things were a lie. I will let you guess which one. 
Also, I love my 2002 Ford Taurus named Talan, and I have more Diet Coke in my body at any given time than I do, water.


Now that you know EVERYTHING there is to know about me, you can hopefully read this blog and appreciate where I'm coming from. I might not always make sense, I might not be right, and I might make you cringe with my awkwardness, but in the end, I'm just working on life... and I pretty much suck at it. But maybe, with God's help and a little humor along the way, I might be able to train myself to suck at it a little less.  


*Stay tuned next week for more observations from me. And if you listen well, I'll give you a starburst.* 






thatisall.