Tag Archives: leahwould blog

A Prince’s Meal

The other day, J and I took his kiddo to the library for a little while to enjoy some books. When we walked in, I glanced over the rows of children’s books, nostalgia taking hold. I remember wandering through aisles like those when I was shorter than the shelves, and picking out hardback-covered books full of my favorite characters like Clifford and Amelia Bedelia.

In total, Lil Guy picked out about 5-6 books to read. We carried them to the comfy chairs set up at the south end of the library to have some adventures in our imaginations. Among the books chosen, there was one that involved a Prince and his eating habits. I will not name the book or the author here, but I’m sure you can google it and figure out what it is.

This book begins with our main characters, the Prince (who is around five or six years old) and his mother and father. It tells of how the Prince will only eat dry toast and nothing else, because he is such a picky eater. Throughout the pages, the King and Queen take their son to various lands so that he may try all the fare of the entire world, from the western hemisphere to the eastern!

At this point, I’m thinking “Wow! What a nice way to introduce different food cultures to young children!”

But, at every part of the world, the Prince refuses to eat a thing. Absolutely nothing. As much as his mother and father rave about the tastes and the wonders, he remains stubborn, with his mouth shut tight.

Here is where I begin to think, “How the fuck is this kid still alive?? It takes several, several days to travel the world, especially since they aren’t flying!! He couldn’t possibly be alive if he didn’t eat SOMEthing!! Is there a part of the book where the parents are making him eat?? Is he sneaking food and just messing with his parents so he can travel the world??? This kid must be malnourished as fuck!”

Towards the end of the book, the last place the family visits is Africa. The boy has yet to give in and try anything whatsoever. His parents keep trying and trying, showing them their faces of pleasure and how much they are enjoying the wonderful cuisine. They urge and urge the young Prince, but to no avail.

At this part in the book, I’m thinking, “This must have a Dr. Seuss sort of twist and any moment, the boy will finally give in, try something, and then be so delighted that they would travel back to all the places and he would happily eat everything presented to him. A sort of “Sam I Am” affect! Where else could the story possibly go??”

Then, I turned the page.

What happened next was a native of the country, someone who appeared to be an old, wise man, came strolling by. He asked what was wrong, and the parents explained their plight.

“Here is the moment.” I thought. “The moment where the wise old man convinces the young boy to merely taste ONE morsel…and it will all be over from there. You shall have your day, Sam I Am!!!”

But continued to read, I saw the picture of the old man pull a bottle from his bag. A red bottle. (I looked at J, and he was making the same face as me. A face that said “Wait a second…is that…?? NO! No Fucking way!….”

WAY.

It was a damn bottle of Ketchup!!! The “wise” man explained to the kid that he could just PUT KETCHUP ON EVERYTHING, AND IT WOULD TASTE GOOD!! The Prince totally fell for it!! He tried the ketchup, and loved it, and proceeded to put KETCHUP on ALL OF THE WORLDLY FOODS!!

At the end of the book, J and I were both flabbergasted!!!! Of course, J’s Lil Guy didn’t see an issue and was ready for the next book. (Thank GOODNESS, I don’t THINK it put any subconscious thoughts in his mind.)

I couldn’t help but continue to wonder, though… WHAT was the point of that?? Were they TRYING to teach kids that it’s okay to not eat what’s put in front of you, unless there is ketchup on it?? Was the author saying that KETCHUP is the God of all foods!! That it is some magic liquid that makes all the vile tastes of the world magnificent??

SERIOUSLY!!????

I’m sure the author has a child who only eats ketchup on everything, and decided to write about it. But for the LOVE OF MAN, why would you want to spread that as a message to young minds!!???

It should have been cheese. ;)

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Just the Tip

When I exited my car, there was nothing unusual about the night. It was around nine o’clock, and my intentions were to spend the remainder of the evening watching television with The Boyfren, while sipping beer and laughing profusely (because Rick & Morty).

It was the perfect plan for a Monday.

As I stood up from the driver’s seat, I glanced into the neighbor’s driveway. What sat there, curiously peering at me, was a fuzzy brown and white cat. It made me smile.  I had seen this cat before and knew that was a sweet one.  I quickly made plans in my head to pet this kitty before heading into the house.

While devising my strategy for approaching the feline without scaring it away, and watching the cat to make sure I knew where it went if it moved, I absentmindedly swung my car door shut…RIGHT ONTO MY PINKY FINGER!! I’m not talking a “shut and bounce back due to finger being in the way” sort of swing, either!  That fucker LATCHED on me!!!

My initial reaction was shock! As quickly as it happened, I reached over with my other hand and opened the door, freeing my now-bleeding pinky finger.  Luckily, I had smashed just the tip.  (Zing!)

At this point, I was thinking to myself that the cute cat could go fuck itself! It was probably laughing inside with the most adorably evil kitty laugh.

Now my goals for the next hour changed from petting cats and laughing at television to the following:

  1. Do not klutzily hit finger on any object while rushing into the restroom.
  2. Assess the wound.
  3. Do not faint.
  4. Clean the wound.
  5. Continue NOT fainting.
  6. Bandage the wound.
  7. Seriously follow through on the not-fainting goal.
  8. Make Boyfren bring ice pack and pain-numbing shots of liquor to me for the rest of the night.
  9. Do not faint.

I know it can be difficult to achieve all of one’s goals in a night, but I can say I succeeded this time.

Now, three days later, I have a black and purple fingernail, and a pinky that is truly pissed at me for typing this up…because it hurts.

New life goals to add to already existing ones:

  1. Stop breaking fingers.
  2. Do not be distracted by cats when car doors are open.
  3. Do not faint.

Monday Wins

This morning, I awoke ready for more sleep (typical). I had to muster all my strength just to drag myself out of bed and into the shower.  I had just finished shaving one of my legs when something abruptly startled me.  An alarm started loudly to go off!  Sounding repeatedly, it was an ear-piercing, dreadful beeping that nearly made me fall to the ground in surprise.  I immediately turned off the water in the shower and grabbed a towel (Fuck it—I’ll just leave this soap all over myself!), all while the huge beep resounded in the house.  At this point, I wasn’t sure if I was hearing the blasting of a smoke alarm or the carbon monoxide detector, and started to wonder if I was going to keel over dead right there on the spot!

The cats were freaking out. They both darted around like little bolts of black and white fur lighting.  It was a further challenge for me not to trip on the little punks.

I bolted to the origin of the sound, dripping a trail of water as I moved along, and HOPING my feet wouldn’t slip out from under me! I found where the noise was originating and was slightly relieved to realize it was indeed the smoke alarm, and not some “hidden odorless killer gas alarm”.  I snatched the it from the wall, and pressed the button.  No change!!  Still an enormous BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEEEEP!!!!!!!!!!

“What, what whaaaat??? Why doesn’t the reset button work??  Is there invisible smoke here?? Is this thing haunted??  AM I ABOUT TO DIE????”

There was no other choice… I had to disassembling the thing. I couldn’t pull it apart at first, and my ears thought they were dying from the loud noise reverberating through the house!  I momentarily debated on throwing it against the ground as hard as I could to try to break it open, while at the same time vaguely wondering if blood was dripping out of my ear canals, because the sound felt THAT painful!  After some seconds of fumbling, I was finally able to remove the battery, and that made the insanity-invoking bleeps stop!

In short, this was me this morning:

Naked, dripping soapy water all over the floor, battling a smoke alarm, hoping not to die with only one shaved leg.

Happy Monday, Ya’ll!

Classy…Maybe?

We (my band and I) played a show last Saturday night. It went extremely well, and the venue was spectacular.

Well…except one, teensy thing…

When I arrived, there was an hour before we took the stage. The crowd in the room was thick, and pushing my way through the steampunk-themed guests was a challenge.  Approximately 10 minutes passed before I made my way from the front door to the coat rack and then to the back of the room, where the stage was set up.  At that time, it occurred to me that Mother Nature was calling.  I glanced around the area and could not find where the restrooms were located.  I found someone who had been there since the event began and asked, discovering that they were near the entrance of the huge hall, from where I’d just fought through throngs of people to escape to the stage!

Well…it’s either fight my way back through the hoards or pee my panties…

So the challenge was on! I felt like a rogue, helplessly outnumbered, darting and squeezing through the crowd. Five minutes later, I was back to the front of the building, and soon, I knew, sweet release would come my way!

I ambled into the Women’s room, and immediately headed to the furthest stall. On my final approaching step, my foot slipped from under me!  Stumbling slightly, I did not fall to the ground, but that is how I noticed there was a puddle there.  I glanced at the water under my foot with momentary puzzlement, and then peered into the stall.  The toilet bowl was filled to the brim with water!  It had obviously overflowed at one point and the damage had not yet been contained.

FUCK!!! I’m standing in piss-water!!???  (At that moment, I had a flashback to the last time something like this happened to me: https://leahwould.com/2014/11/18/1321/ )

Nature was still calling at that moment, and I decided to put the fact out of my mind that someone else’s diluted urine was now on my shoe. I entered the second stall, and at a glance, re-exited a split second later.

This one, too???

A quick peek into the final open stall confirmed my fear—all three toilets were filled to the brim with light-yellow water and wads of toilet paper.

Oh Fucking Craptastic! I have THREE People’s diluted piss-water on my shoe!!!!!!!

I had to find a different bathroom, and fast, because if I didn’t, I’d be adding more UNDILUTED piss to my shoes…and the floor. I looked at the sink for a moment.

Hmm…that COULD be…NO! No effing way… I was NOT peeing in the sink at an upscale fucking venue!! Put the thought out of your mind, Leah! JEEZ!!!

I rushed out of the room and immediately reported the issue to the table of volunteers next to the front door. When I asked where a different bathroom was located, I received three bewildered stares.  These girls had no idea where another one was.  I’m willing to bet they were starting to panic, themselves, due to the fact that drinks were in abundance and they would likely need the facilities soon as well.

One of them pointed towards a man in a police uniform and told me that he might know where another bathroom could be found. I asked him, and his response was unexpected.  I figured maybe there was a single stall upstairs…or somewhere in the back of the building.

NO.

He explained that the bathroom I could use would be found in a different building altogether! I had to walk outside in the freezing cold temperature, while wearing my short, sleeveless dress and heels, to the end of the block, and into that corner building!  That is where I would find salvation.

OH! Is that all!!?

Not to mention I was still holding back Niagra Falls, because at this point, the entire can of Monster Energy Drink I’d slammed in under 10 minutes beforehand had decided to rear its ugly head in the form of “YOU GOTTA PEE NOW!!!!”

So I began the trek down the block. The temperature was bitter and the wind chill was even worse.

Well…at least if I piss myself, it’ll probably freeze instantly into a giant pee-cicle that I could merely chuck down that alleyway or something…

I arrived at the corner building, and walked into the front door. In the back of that room, I saw a group of ladies in a huddle, talking.  I assumed they were there for the bathroom, too.

“Hi! Are you waiting for the bathroom??”

They all gave me a knowing smile and said that they were finished with that single-room restroom…. But there was criteria to using it…

Criteria???? What?? There are bathroom rules for using the BACKUP Bathroom??? What the fuck??

One woman continued, “The water pipes leak, so you have to turn the water off after using the bathroom. It’s turned off now, so just turn it Lefty Loosy (Yes, she felt the need to tell me which way to turn it, as if I was some sort of idiot.) to turn the water back on, and be careful, because it sprays out a bit when you do that, and then when done, turn it Righty tighty!  Remember, Lefty loosy first, and then righty tighty when finished!”  (I am quoting this person.)

I nodded, but pretty sure my mouth was agape at the fact that not only was this bathroom messed up, but the way this woman talked to me like a child was seriously disturbing.

I entered the bathroom as the gaggle of women exited the building. Sure enough, as I turned the water on, there was a bit of a spray-back, but I dodged it.  I smiled, because FINALLY, I would have reprieve.

And I did….

As I finished, I heard another group of people walk into the next room. I made mental note to tell them about the water situation as I walked to the sink to wash my hands.

While distracted by my thoughts, I pumped the soap….IT SHOT STRAIGHT TOWARDS ME!! The soap’s aim was apparently NOT my hand that was poised underneath its spout, but instead, my dress and legs!!

I stood, frozen, for just a moment, with soap on the bottom of my dress and running down my leg!

Fuck!! I have to take the stage in thirty minutes, and now I look like I have a load of jizz all over me!! DAMN IT!!!!!!! And where are the paper towels!!???

Frantically, I look around the tiny room. After thirty seconds of sheer panic, I found refuge in a small cabinet.  I wipe my legs and frantically scrubbed at the bottom of my black (with a now-whitish spot) dress.  I can hear the people outside of the door becoming impatient.

I peered down at my dress, thankful that the lights onstage should hide the fact that there was now a guilty-looking spot in a not-very-inconspicuous place.

Fuck it.

I made my exit.

I gave a quick warning about the broken water and the soap monster, all the while not making eye contact with the new victims of the bathroom. Hopefully their luck would be better than mine.

Soon after this debacle, I took the stage, and I held everything in my bladder for the rest of the night.

A Fate of Fire

It’s never a pleasant experience to wake up and realize you slept in the wrong position. The body decides to punish this mistake by throwing a kink in your neck…or your shoulder…or BOTH.  This was me on Saturday morning.  Then it followed me all day….like a little kink-puppy.

I made the assumption that another night’s sleep would force it away. We all know what assuming does, though, and Sunday morning brought the pain!  I stretched, I massaged it, I rolled my back with a foam roller, and even rolled a tennis ball under my shoulder blade.  (THIS was extremely painful as well.)  All this to no avail.

Luke offered to drive to the store and purchase some muscle rub cream, and I consented. Upon his return, the cream was rubbed into my neck, right shoulder, and part of my back.

What came next was not expected. My skin burst into metaphorical flames!

Holy shit!! This is how this works??  They distract you from your regular pain by giving you pain that is equal to what one finds in the depths of hell???  Or was I turning into a lava beast!??

Damn; damn; damn!! Lava beasts can’t have pet cats! Or boyfriends…or any friends, for that matter!!  I wasn’t ABOUT to let this happen.

I began to frantically wipe at my skin with a towel.

Luke looked at me, questioningly. “Don’t do that! You’ll wipe it off!”

“That’s sort of the POINT!! It’s trying to kill me! It wants to ruin my LIFE!!!”

I had demon slime on my skin, and he wanted me to LEAVE it there!!? NO!!!

Luke then explained that creams like IcyHot had about 2.5% of the working ingredient, and the cream I had slathered all over my skin contained 10% of the stuff!

Lashes!! I’d been given lashes with whips covered in razor blades and fire!!  This was no cream!  It was all a lie!!  How did I manage to consent to this!!??

I wanted to curl into a fetal position while cuddling with ice cubes, but I resisted. If I could get through this, then I could handle anything.  A walk on the sun would be mere child’s play to me after THIS!  In fact, the sun would have to be my home.  A lava monster can’t live on earth.

The minutes seemed like years. I sat there, burning, and contemplating my fate.

Finally, slowly, but surely…it ended. I survived.  I conquered.

Today, my neck continues to hurt. I’ll let it.  I’ve been to hell.  I’m not going back.  I escaped the fate of becoming the Lava Monster.

Now, I face Monday.

Related: I have some CVS Muscle Rub in my purse, currently, if anyone else wants to taste death.  I’m keeping it handy for my enemies.

Aliens Are Jerks

At some point in my day, I think a giant, invisible, jerk-face alien punched me in the neck.  The offending strike left me with a pain leading from the part of my neck just behind my ear, all the way down to the top of my shoulder.

I know that a normal person might deduce that a kink in the neck could result from sleeping in an undesired position. 

This is not the cause of this particular kink, however.  My neck felt completely fine for most of the day, but around 2:30 or 3:00, the pain crept in at a rapid pace. 

The elusive martian obviously punched me several times, repeatedly.  He could get away with it, because he’s invisible.

Damn invisible aliens…I hope my anti-inflammatory that I just ingested defeats it and ALL its punching powers!!

If I awake tomorrow morning with a neck that hurts on BOTH sides, that means that the medicine merely pissed off the thing.

(I realize I am making little sense right now….can I attribute that to aliens, too?)

Gum, Candy, Repeat #leahwouldblog

Sometimes, I will go to my old blog on Livejournal, and find something I had forgotten about.  It makes me smile, so I repost it here, in hopes to elicit more smiles from people who weren’t there to see it the first time.  Here is one of them…just some rambles:

I have become a gigantic waster of gum!  I, along with many I’m sure, do not like to ever have bad breath.  So, out of convenience, I chew gum after eating.  BUT, I don’t like chewing gum for a long time, so I literally spit it out after only chewing for about 5 min.  Here’s the thing, though…I eat 5-6 times a day….so that’s 5-6 pieces of gum throughout the day!  So for just 25-30 minutes of chewtime, I chew THAT MUCH gum!  Whoever thought up the “car cup” with a bajillion pieces of gum inside, I applaud you.
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Does anyone else remember Tongue Splashers gum?  I think that is what those were called.  They came in a small can, and the different colors would dye your whole mouth whatever color you wanted!  I can’t say I’d want to do this now, but it would be fun to find out if those things still exist.  Now, I finally understand the nostalgia my mom must feel when seeing Chic-O-Stix at the store.  How odd to think that the candy I grew up with may be considered Old Fashioned before too long!  And which candies will be classy enough to stick around forever?  So far, Tootsie Roll Pops and Blow Pops have done a pretty good job of it!  (Those are old, right?)
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A memory resurfaces:  In 5th grade, I had an argument with a boy named Jonathan Simcosky.  He tried to insist to me that chocolate was not technically candy!  Being my completely stubborn self, I disagreed with him ALL DAY LONG. We bickered all through lunch AND all through recess.  In fact, I don’t think our argument was ever resolved…it was an “agree to disagree” situation.  As an adult, I can’t say I consider chocolate to be candy…it is chocolate…it is its own entity.  I’m sorry, Jonathan, wherever you are…you were right.  I’m finally admitting it.