Love and Other Bugs

All these creepy crawlies are giving me the heeby jeebies, guys... rude house guests is what they are. The other night I witnessed the first of the summer's bugs whom treat my quaint home like a free air conditioned motel. I don't want to even say the word... so I'll say it in spanish: la cucaracha. Flying cucaracha at that! As if the damned varmints of hell aren't disgustingly horrific enough they must be given wings to truly become Satan's fallen angels.

Anyone else picture a sombrero-clad cockroach shaking tiny maracas when they hear the term, "cucaracha"? No? Okay.

So this villainous spaniard of an insect was in my room, just trying to hang out with me probably. Sadly, for Mr. Cockroach the feeling wasn't mutual and I attempted to temporarily imprison it within the confines of an empty cup (I prefer to free them outdoors than royally piss off an apocalypse-proof species). However, my depth perception, or rather lack thereof, failed me for about the zillionth time in my life and I ended up halving it instead. I can't say I felt as much sympathy for the vile creature as I did for my sheets and there was no way in hell I was going to sleep anywhere near its miniature crime scene. So I had a lonely late night laundry party. Fibby rejected the invite to said event in order to ensure she got her evening's full 22 hours of beauty sleep.

While I may be ill-equipped to capture any sort of nervous system-bearing bug, I'm completely capable of catching the wheezy, sneezy, viral kind. I often like to believe that my days of booger-eating and manure-stomping supplied me with the kind of immune system that Zeus and the other gods would envy but this theory has been confuted times enough for me to begin practicing safe sanitation. To this I say nay! Germicide is for the weak and sharing (germs that is) is caring. One way or another, I hardly ever withstand evading whatever virus may be taking my area of the Earth by storm. This time it was the flu. But it could've been zombie rabies... so really, I caught a break.

In kitteh, that means "braaaaaaaaainzzzzz"

It might not compare to zombie rabies, but the flu isn't an undead walk in the park either. I'm not so sure I've even been conscious for the past few days... not that I'm ever really positively conscious to begin with. But with all things considered, I may as well have been walking dead were it not for the flies I would've attracted at a cook-out (which I attended in a haze of nyquil). Cold & flu medication inflicts a weird kind of brain scrambling that can not and need not be explained. All sick persons should be temporarily excused from life and especially from embarrassing social situations due to this fact.

There's nothing quite like getting crunk on dextromethorphan.

At this point I really can only think of one other bug which has never failed to sink it's jagged chompers in and suck the fun out of life. The bug which I am referring to is none other than the love bug: it carries a highly contagious and inevitably fatal disease. I'd rather not get carried aways with my failed love interests. Thee only needeth know of my displeasure.

Splat! (That's what I think of that).

Maybe I'm just bitter... Bah hum-bug.

Reveal yourself!

        Okay, I'm not underestimating the brain power of any of you. However, because of the ratio of anonymous comments to non-anonymous comments and word of a little bird (Stephanie Dupree), I thought I'd host a little "Commenting 101". According to the bird, it can be kind of confusing that it is optional whether you want to share your identity with me or not. Well, you can! You don't have to... but you can! ;) Whenever you post a comment there's a little drop down box next to "comment as:" from which you can select how you want your name to appear next to your comment: i.e. "Anonymous" or "Stephanie Dupree" or "Ilickbutt", whatever your little heart desires! If you scroll all the way to the bottom of the drop down box you will see "Name/Url" and "Anonymous". If you select "Name/Url" another little window will appear and you just do your thang. (filling in the "website" field is optional). Obviously if you select "Anonymous", you will... remain anonymous. Has anyone kept track of how many times I said "anonymous"? Go back and take shots every time! This will be fun.

Anonymous, anonymous, anonymous, anonymous,  anonymous, anonymous, anonymous,  anonymous, anonymous, anonymous,  anonymous, anonymous, anonymous,  anonymous, anonymous, anonymous,  anonymous, anonymous, anonymous,  anonymous, anonymous, anonymous,  anonymous, anonymous, anonymous,  anonymous, anonymous, anonymous,  anonymous, anonymous, anonymous,  anonymous, anonymous, anonymous, anonymous, anonymous.

Oops... alcohol poisoning.

as for those who choose to remain ANONYMOUS... you've come to kill me haven't you?

... so much animosity. sheesh!

Fibby Forever

        I've reached a point in my life where I can both realize and accept that people come and go. Coming from a girl who went to the same school with the same kids for over half her life, and has lived in the same small town for all of it, the concept has always seemed so unnatural to me. Aren't people supposed to stick around for your whole life? Well, clearly not. That's probably a good thing though, because frankly, theres only so much of a person I can take.

It's only a matter of time before the monkey eats the banana.

        It doesn't matter what kind of title a person has. Whether it's your best friend, your boyfriend, your girlfriend, your "special" friend, your stalker, whoever, there's nothing written in stone commanding that this person follow you on your journey to the grave. It's likely that the day you die, there will be at least a few (hopefully) that have in fact been with you on that journey. I'm just saying that there's not any  definiteness to it. There's not even any definiteness to your mom loving you. There's no definiteness to anything. There's kind of a beauty to that. Life is an array of options. Hell, it's optional itself (but we'd like you step back from that ledge).

Here's a little video to calm your suicidal thoughts, my friend... I've got blista's on ma' finga's!

        Fading relationships aren't always the consequence of lack of loyalty. People change and paths separate. It may be sorrowful for now, but not for always. It'd be pretty boring to surround yourself with the same people, always. It's not even as if you can't remain close with someone you no longer have a relationship with. That sounds kind of oxymoronic but it's true. There's going to be those people that you will always feel comfortable with, even if you share none of the same morals or views and haven't spoken in ages. There's an ever-growing list of people I've got reserved bail for who I don't even talk to once a month. People are just weird that way.

and people are weird this way too...

        I'm sure I'll always have a "best friend". I'm just not sure that person will always be the same. I deeply care about the people I associate myself with... or I wouldn't associate with them. I do, however,  acknowledge that things will happen in our lives that require we say goodbye. This, I'm sure won't always be the case, but it probably will be a lot of the time. The people who withstand the test of time are obviously the keepers... and Fibby is a keeper! She is so, totally my bff. 

♥♥♥♥♥♥

Space Cadet

        Sometimes I'd really like to kick ADHD in the ass for the burden it's been on my life. I admit, sometimes it can be kind of humorous the way I trail off into my own little world for a while. Memories of the nickname "Space Cadet" I acquired in grade school come to mind. The kids got a kick out of that one.

Yep, that's me.

        It wasn't a big secret that I had issues paying attention to the tasks at hand among my classmates. A little fun was poked, no feelings hurt. Besides, it wasn't like I had some sort of disease or disorder... that anyone knew of. At the time, my teachers, classmates, and family simply viewed me as "interesting" which was then magnified by the escape from the real world I manifested in Mrs. Kearn's art class. I didn't have superb artistic abilities, and still don't, but it interested me enough to the extent that I didn't have to remember anything. For a brief period of time I could simply just be and do my thing. It wasn't until english with Mrs. Daphne that my ADHD finally got the best of me and I was soon diagnosed with it. My other teachers were frustrated by my lack of an attention span but Mrs. Daphne was a whole other kind of irritated with it. The class was required to bring to class with them everyday, a blue pen and paper. It could not be a black pen, a purple pen, a green pen, or a rainbow pen. If you didn't have a blue pen, you got a zero for the day. Every single day, I either forgot the blue pen, or I forgot the paper. I could not for the life of me remember both or sometimes either one.

curse the damned blue pens.

        Eventually my grade got low enough that parent teacher conferences were a weekly event. No-one could grasp the concept that for whatever reason, blue pen and paper was just not processing in my brain. Sadly, I cried my eyes out every week thinking that I was doing something wrong until someone got the grand idea to take me to be psychiatrically evaluated and I was diagnosed with ADHD. Honestly though, this didn't help much because my stomach didn't sit well with any medication. Being in an emotionally numbing, mind controlling bubble didn't exactly appeal to a 12 year old either.

much like the dirty bubble from spongebob... except you know, with mind control.

        Regardless, things seemed to eventually work themselves out. Teachers were a lot more accommodating and understanding. I went a little goth for a while there but hey, it happens to the best of us. ADHD is one of those disorders that sort of "phase in" and "phase out" of your life. Of course it doesn't just go away like magic, but it felt like it phased out for all of high school and like the shark from jaws it's creeping its way back into my life. Thankfully, I'm an adult and know now how to better handle it. That's why I have my handy dandy journal and you can bet your bottom dollar I write just about every remotely important thought process I have down in that thing. As for the few things that slip past the pen & pad (black pen, mind you. I have a grudge against blue); well, that's just part of what adds a little flavor to my life. It's like a special surprise, every day. 

Surprise! Your memory sucks!

        What really brought all this up is just that I was laying in bed trying to sleep when my brain started throwing up random thoughts that didn't get ran through earlier in the day... like my newly repaired pearl ring that I took off to wash my face. I told myself repeatedly while I was washing my face, "Don't forget to put your ring back on after you are finished." You can guess what I did not do. The ring is still sitting on the counter in the bathroom. Not that it's that big of a deal I went a day without my ring, but it's just mind boggling to me that I can remind myself a hundred times to do something and still not manage to succeed in doing so. So I got the idea to tell you all a little more about this part of myself and well, I wrote it down... before I forgot to.

Hello from the burrrrr-gh

        No kidding; my toes are still numb... and I'm wearing three pairs of socks. with slippers. under two blankets. Think about that.


...


Are you thinking about me in bed? Creep.




        This Florida girl was certainly the opposite of prepared for the type of cold that Pittsburgh became shortly after I arrived. It is unreal. When I got here on the 20th it was in the 50's. I was all, "no biggie, what was all the fuss about?" And so it remained that way for a few days, until one day I woke up, dragged myself (past like 60 windows) into the kitchen and prepared a bowl of cereal (directly in front of a window), until I finally sat down at the table with my rice krispies to look up and see snow all over the place. I went bananas. I have never seen snow like this since I was the wee age of 3. No longer did snap, crackle, or pop mean a thing to me. I left them for dead to get soggy beyond edibility and just waltzed right out onto the deck in my t-shirt and sleep shorts, barefoot, to check it out. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I stayed out there for a pretty good bit too. Obviously, I was in a pure state of bliss that wiped out all rational thought processes. Then I got sick and have been ever since. It is now the 2nd of January so that would mark 2 weeks that I've been sick because of my silly idea to dance half naked in the snow. Was it worth it? Absolutely.

I can't feel an inch of my body but I'm holding snow, so who cares.

Fully clothed after I finally stopped acting like a lunatic. My first snowball :o

I've gotten used to having no feeling whatsoever in my toes.

My artsy fartsy photography of the snow.

and the face of confusion/constipation(?) I was probably making as I toyed with the dslr settings...

I'm learning, okay?

check out my sweet kitty ear warmer my mother got me for christmas before I left.

       In case you were wondering why exactly I'm in Pittsburgh, (although you shouldn't be because I've mentioned this in a previous blog post and I just know how important they are to everyone) I am visiting my best friend, Haley Moffatt. She moved here in August and I missed her so dearly that I decided to ditch out on Florida for 2 1/2 weeks to have a ragin' Moffatt style Christmas and New Years. 

The infamous Haley Moffatt and yours truly about to head out for a night on the town shortly after I arrived in the 'Burgh.

       It would be a lie to say I haven't been at least a little homesick and heartbroken over missing Fibby (and everyone else, I guess). In fact, I was considering taking the little fur-ball with me but she wasn't prepared, physically nor mentally, considering she apparently doesn't have the right vaccines to legally fly or something like that and not to mention she is sure one stressed out feline. She's got anxiety through the roof. If she were at an altitude of 30,000 feet she might just explode. 

She tried her darndest to convince me though.

       I definitely do not regret coming here for the holidays because thus far it has been a blasty blast super duper fun time. Sho' nuff this southern bubba gump brunette has officially crawled straight outta' the swamp to the twinkly city lights and I am loving it, I tell you. Luh. ving. it.

just standing on a cliff over-looking the whole city.

did I mention I'm afraid of heights?

♥

        Christmas in Pittsburgh was almost like coming home for the holidays. almost. I wouldn't go farther than to say it feels like a second home. I love these crazy people but blood is blood, let's just be honest. In all seriousness though (don't worry it'll only be a minute before my mind wanders back to my never serious self), I have been surrounded by the most caring and loving people I have ever met in my life. Haley's parents, family, and friends have all bent over backward to make me feel welcome and it doesn't go unnoticed. There's nothing like being primped and pampered and staying in what feels like a five star hotel with nothing asked for in return. To keep it short and sweet, these people are fantastic. 

and her mom even got us matching hello kitty footie pajamas... score!

Merry Christmas from the sexiest Santa Clause in existence.

and the second sexiest.... just kidding ;)

        New Years was even better than Christmas... Isn't that something? As a kid Christmas morning felt like pure ecstasy, as if there was some magical happy dust that was sprinkled in every kid's nostrils bright and early every 25th of December until you reach the ripe old age of 8 or so (... or you know, 13 in my case... I was a very protected child). But I'm a big kid now and new years is where it's at these days. Nothing like pretending all the big kid problems you had from one year never existed as you wipe your slate clean instantaneously at the ringing in of a new year. We all went downtown to Station Square for the big shebang... well actually we went 500 miles from Station Square and Haley and I walked in hells, oops I mean heels, all the way to Station Square while the boys pointed and laughed and took turns giving us piggy back rides.

yes I wore the same fancy outfit as before. It's hard to work with a suitcase for a closet.

our new years crew.

Our faces say, "I'm having a blast" but our feet say, "kill me."

midpoint between the car and Station Square where we relaxed and took pictures of ourselves.

I missed her so much.

These are just some of the coolest people I've ever met.

Station Square was nuts. I was beyond excited.

I'm so glad I got to spend it with her and such awesome dudes.

best new years yet.

       That is about all that my Pittsburgh trip entails so far except for...

FLAMIN' HOT FUNYUNS.

I'm probably going to take a carton of these bad boys back to Florida with me.

       ... and I've still got 5 days left! Yippee!