Tag Archives: Life

It’s a Happy Friday Beginning!

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From time to time (In other words, EVERY stinkin’ day for me), things happen without my immediately realizing it, and when I DO finally figure it out, it confirms the fact that often, certain outside forces beat me at life….or something like that.

Almost every morning, on my normal workday rush, not only do I drive to work, but I also tend to call upon my multi-tasking skills and eat breakfast, plus do my makeup while in the car.  (Don’t be concerned….I have enough damn stoplights on my way in to work that there is plenty of time that I’m not actually in a moving vehicle while doing these things.  Okay, Mom?  DON’T…WORRY!)

This particular morning, I grabbed an ever-so-nutritious protein bar for breakfast.  This flavor was “Caramel Nut”, and included being half-way dipped into some sort of protein, caramel-flavored “icing”.  The stuff is DELICIOUS, so I ate it as quickly as a ravenous wolf! 

Commence with the makeup application! 

Some days, the brush drops into my lap, and I’m left with a bit of light shimmer on my pants.  It wipes off fairly easily.  I only fear the day that the brush drops underneath my seat, for my car will surely eat it, and I will never see it again!  At that point, I will only have my fingertips to apply my eye-shadow, and then I’ll undoubtedly “accidentally” wipe them off afterwards on something…like my seat….or shirt….or arm.  Probably my arm, just to see how many people notice that the streaks of color on my appendages make me look like a homeless chimney sweeper when I arrive to work.  At least then I could burst into song and start referring to my coworkers as “Mary Poppins”.  They would only EXPECT something that absurd at this point.

I digress…back to the protein bar!  After arriving to work, AND riding the elevator (WITH PEOPLE…people of OTHER businesses in this building) to my floor, and then sitting at my desk, I finally LOOK DOWN at my pants.  (I should seriously consider keeping a mirror in my car.) The icing that I had Loooooooved so much earlier apparently loved me back!!  It had decided to partially break off from the breakfast bar and smear itself all over the CROTCH region of my pants!!  White “icing” on my black pants…I can only IMAGINE what my fellow elevator-riders must have thought! 

It’s just another day where gravity, along with my klutz factor, WINS against me. 

Happy Friday, You Guys!  Please pass the coffee…

A Memory from the Rock Band Days

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The band had just finished a fast-paced song, and the dance floor was clearing out as the mood changed to slow and sweet.  (In other words, everyone in the crowd was heading to get a refill on their beer before returning to slow dance in front of us.)  I stood, singing a rock ballad (probably Journey or Bon Jovi), and stared into the crowd.  After years of singing on a stage, I had no nervousness, and could easily watch and/or interact with a crowd while belting out a tune. 

As I glanced to the right of the dance floor in front of me, I noticed a young woman wandering to its edge, tugging her man behind her.  I assumed it was the regular “forcing the man to dance with her” situation.  This was fairly common.  I’ll admit I’ve been guilty of doing this from time to time.  But as I continued into the second verse, I took a closer look at the couple. 

I recognized that the woman was one of the avid dancers from during the previous song, someone who had been jumping around with so much glee(and by ‘glee’, I mean ‘drunkenness’) that she had fallen quite a few times, mid-dance.  A little too many twirls and whirls for her, I suppose.  Again, I’m guilty of this from time to time as well, so there’re no judgments here!  I always enjoyed watching people have a good time to our music.

Then, I took a closer look.  She was remaining poised by the edge of the dance floor with her guy.  I found this odd since she was so happy to dance all over that floor just a few minutes ago, so I decided to pay a little more attention to what was going on.  That is when I noticed her pointing towards the ground while saying something to her man.  My eyes followed where she was pointing (discreetly, of course), and that’s when I saw it. It was like, for a just a moment, in total sloooooow motion……

BEHOLD!! THE CHICKEN CUTLET!!!  (

Men, if you don’t know already, I’m talking about the fake, rubber boobs that some women put into their bras to amplify their cleavage.  Spoiler alert!!!)

It’s a good thing my mouth was ALREADY agape at this point, because if it hadn’t been, my jaw probably would have dropped at that point.  Apparently, while dancing previously, the fake, rubber bra-stuffer had come right out of her shirt!  Not only was it sitting there on the dance floor, but she was not even willing to retrieve it!  She commanded her man do it. 

And YES….he did.  He fetched it and brought it back to her…..back to it’s home…next to her boob.

IT TOOK EVERYTHING IN ME NOT TO BURST INTO LAUGHTER, MID-SONG!!!

I managed to keep my composure.  Don’t ask me how, I haven’t a clue!! 

To this day, that band-days memory gives me grins. :)

Random Ramblings 11-7

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I’ve decided that the male voice of our building’s elevators is malicious.  I mean, I hardly think that it’s a good thing to hear a menacing, robotic voice telling me I’m “going down”!  That just sounds like a threat to me.  They should just add “Sucka” to the end of the voice recording and be done with it!  Can you imagine?

You push the button with the down arrow picture on it, and the doors of the elevator open, warmly inviting you in…so you think.  Then, you press the button representing your desired floor, and the doors promptly CLOSE, trapping you inside the metal box, and a robotic voice exclaims, “You’re Going Down, SUCKA!”

Actually…they really should set the elevators up like that.  It’d be hilarious!

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Why has nothing been invented to alter taste buds?  I would love it if I could make cauliflower taste like Doritos.  I would eat ALL THE CAULIFLOWER.  What else?  Oh!  I want this taste-bud alter machine to also have texture capabilities…..anything soggy would be perceived as crunchy! YES!!!! 

Someone invent this…and then give me one…for Christmas. Thanks!

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Last night, I had a weird dream.  I’ll spare the details, but the gist of it is this:

Shannon and I bought a pig in Asia for a pet.  We brought it home.  I had a whole section of our deck set up for our new, little pet, complete with a blown up vanity. (I don’t know why.)  After bringing our little guy home, Shannon reads that there’s some disease that he can get, and now we have to get rid of the pig.  But I argue that the article he read says that the only way the pig will catch the disease is if we feed him an incredibly large amount of cake, and as long as we just never give him cake, we’ll be fine.  Shannon still doesn’t want to take that chance, and I’m all upset and trying to figure out how to keep our pig…..then I wake up.

WTF?

 

Art & Aliens

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All had been calm for three hours.  Not a peep was heard from the sleeping toddler upstairs in the white bedroom.

At least, that’s what my babysitter told my mother many years ago.  Mom’s immediate response was a facial expression full of surprise and alarm.  If her little Leah had been quiet for three solid hours, something was NOT RIGHT with the world.  She rushed past her friend and charged up the stairs to the spare room, where I was supposedly napping.

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(Three hours earlier)

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Mom was making me stay at her friend’s house for awhile.  She had to run errands or work or something–obviously do a great, FUN THING  where a young girl was not allowed to join.  I GUESS I didn’t mind; surely the place where I was to be temporarily abandoned had toys. 

EVERYONE has toys.  Those who didn’t….well I figured they must be aliens from another planet.  And SURELY my mom wouldn’t leave me alone with aliens…..surely……..

Shortly after my mother delivered me to this person’s house, I was stuck in a bright, white room and expected to sleep.  I lied on the bed for AT LEAST four million years (aka 20 min. in real time), and decided it was boring. Naps are stupid.  I figured I had better look for the toys.  I sat up and peered at my surroundings.

Where were the toys?

I saw pillows….blankets…a dresser…white carpet….THERE WAS NOTHING FUN IN THIS ROOM.

What an upsetting revelation!! My mother LEFT ME WITH ALIENS!!!!!  I arose from the bed and began to wander around the room, contemplating how they might experiment on me; for a fleeting moment, I thought about crying, but then…

What I found in the drawers in front of a mirror was FAR better than toys.  A smile began to form on my face….

It slowly spread wider…

…and wider still! 

The grin could hardly contain my excitement!!!

Displayed in front of me in all their glory were tubes of lovely, red paint!!  It smelled sort of funny, and it didn’t taste quite like paint, but it worked JUST the same!!  (In case you don’t realize it, this was not paint, but lipstick.)

  I set about my task.  Surely, I would receive many pats on the head and marvelous compliments from my overseers/prison-guard aliens. Then, after they saw the beauty of my artwork, they may decide that my brain was far too precious to scramble.  Plus, they would HAVE to show me where all the toys were!

I would get to play WITH THEM ALL!!!!  I would be the PRINCESS OF ALL TOYS!!  Or even better—QUEEN!!!!  My rule of the alien-toy kingdom would be written in the history books as the greatest that ever was!!!

I slowly unsheathed the smooth, red “paint”.

Then, I began with the dresser, and moved swiftly to the carpet.  The bedspread and walls were splashed with the deep hue shortly after.  I had no cares that I was also becoming covered in the cherry-colored mess.  This was hard work, and I was going to do a DAMN fine job!!!!

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(Three hours later)

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My mother opened the door, with the homeowners close behind her.  I smiled up with all the glee I could muster…I was ready for my crown, for my toy-subjects, and for all my praise!

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My memory gets fuzzy at that point, but I am told that I was never left to be babysat by that couple again….ever.

Apparently, aliens don’t know what ART is.

Painting…BS!

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Since it’d been awhile, I was re-visiting my old Livejournal.  I found this entry, and decided I should share it here. :)  I may add or change it a little bit, if I feel the need, though….just a few little tweaks…..

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I had a memory re-surface this morning, though I’m not sure what caused it.  When I was little (pre-K age), for a short time, I attended a daycare called La Petite Academy…I hated this place with every fiber of my being.  The older kids were often jerks, calling me names like “slow poke”, and I did not like the teachers, either, because I thought they came off as bossy and rude.  (In case you’re wondering, I didn’t have to go to that place very long.  I, shortly after, attended a delightful little at-home preschool!  Mrs. Aidy, I still think fondly of you!) 

Anyways…there was one day in particular that I was actually excited, because we were going to have the chance to play with paint!  The teacher spread this gigantic piece of majestic, white paper in front of me as I sat there, grinning from ear to ear!  Then, the ketchup-bottle-shaped containers full of that wondrous, colorful, oozy liquid were placed on the table…

JUST…

out of…

reach. 

I could just SMELL the stuff!  It almost made my fingers tingle in excitement!!!  I longed to grab one and begin squirting it onto the paper with all my might, to show ALL OF THE WORLD what wonders I had hidden in my imagination, just WAITING to escape through the medium of paint!

Then…the unthinkable happened.  I saw paint raining down in front of me, onto the paper.  As I slowly turned my widening eyes upwards, I saw that the teacher was squirting random designs with the three primary colors onto MY piece of paper!!

“Perhaps, she is merely showing me an example of what I COULD do, and this isn’t my piece of paper.  Perhaps MY piece is still coming! Perhaps….”

As I pondered these things to myself, trying not to get upset at the creative outlet that seemed to be slipping from my preschool fingers, the teacher proceeded to fold the paper in half, pressing the paint in between the folds. 
Then, she cheerily (Actually, to me it sounded more like DEVIOUSNESS from an evil witch!!!) told me to unfold the paper.  I did so.  She then cooed and cheered at the artwork I had made!  For a moment, I was dumbfounded.

I DIDN’T DO IT!!  THIS WAS A LIE!! SHE CHEATED ME OUT OF MY FIRST MASTERPIECE!!!!!!!!!!  

If I had KNOWN the word “bullshit” at this point in my life, I surely would have yelled it from the mountaintops!
“Nobody look at this!! Do NOT transfix your gaze onto this fraudulent piece of BULLSHIT!”

Pretty sure I sulked the rest of that day, but at that point, my memory becomes a bit hazy.

I assume I blocked it out….due to the pain.

Dorito Dilemma

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Today, I attempted to pretend my protein bar was a bag of Cool Ranch doritos.  It did not work.  So, I decided it would be worth it to cough up the 40 cents and buy a small bag of the beloved chips. 

I dug through the abyss, aka the bottom of my gigantic purse/bag.  Along with some wrappers and crumbs (HOW THE HELL…????), I pulled out some coins.  JUST ENOUGH!! It had to be a sign.  I was MEANT to eat those chips!

I practically skipped to the cubicle that holds our beloved office-snack treasures, and I opened the drawer that holds the chips and crackers.  For a moment, I thought I heard angels…and a small bit of light seemed to eminate from the drawer! 

This light was QUICKLY dashed as I realized…..there…..were……NO…..DORITOS!!!!  Nothing but potato chips and Sun Chips!! These are NOT what I craved!!!

I wandered back to my desk in defeat, a small, figurative tear rolling down my cheek.

A Limit Reached

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Today, I reached the maximum capacity for banana intake.

For a really long time, I would only eat, on average, one banana per YEAR.  I am a HUGE texture person when it comes to eating, and eating something that has the same texture as what I imagine shit would have does NOT sound appealing.  (My GAWD…it’s the similar shape of poo, too!!!  Also, you’re welcome for THAT visual. Ha!)

Still, I know that it’s a quite regular fruit to eat for most, and my once-a-year eating would only happen, surely, because my body was telling me that I needed potassium or else MY MUSCLES WOULD CRAMP INTO OBLIVION!!!!

But, for the past few weeks, I discovered that I WAS actually able to stand eating bananas again, just like I’m sure I did when I was a one year old with no choices but mushy food.  Plus, it was an easy breakfast to grab that has protein.  Win-win? 

Not this morning.

This morning would have been my third day in a row to eat a banana for breakfast this week.

I took my first bite….”Why does this taste….different?…”

I took my second bite….”No…it tastes the same, but………………….

 

the……………………….

 

texture…..”

**BLARGH!!!**

On my third bite, I began to literally gag on the banana!  (Go ahead….Insert innuendo/joke here….I know you want to!) ;P

I spit that fruit-crap back out and into the trash, then threw the remaining banana in with it!  Not only did I THROW the offending food into the trash, I fucking PITCHED it in there!!   Batter up, Trash can!!! 

So my threshold was reached.  It took a total of 8-10 bananas in three weeks, but at least now I know.

Maybe I’ll try bananas again….next year.

How Am I Married?

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Sometimes, I am amazed at how ANYONE can put up with my peculiar self, let alone be MARRIED to me.

The other day, while driving and talking to Shannon on the phone, I saw a blimp in the sky.  Shannon then became the brunt of my somewhat one-sided phone conversation that went something like this (spoken at roughly 100mph):

Me: I’m pretty sure I see a blimp in the sky!!  Maybe it’s just a balloon.  You know how they use those big balloons for car dealerships?  Nah..no way! It’s too far up there!  That couldn’t be a regular balloon.  It’s GOT to be a blimp!

Shannon: Oh….?

Me: It IS! That’s a blimp!  It’s the MetLife blimp!  I wonder if they give people rides!  I want a blimp!  We could ride in a blimp and then skydive from it.  No…wait…it’s not high enough for sky diving….WE COULD BUNGEE JUMP!! Perfect!! Do you think they give bungee jump rides in blimps!?? Surely not the MetLife blimp.  That’s life insurance, right?  I doubt a life insurance company would endorse bungee jumping.

Shannon: What?

Me:  BUNGEE JUMPING!! I wonder what it costs to rent a blimp.  Think anyone rents them?  We should have a blimp party!  There can be lights and giant speakers and loud music.  A dance party in a blimp!!  Think it’s big enough?? They should definitely rent out blimps for dance parties!! I wonder how many people could fit in a blimp…A party blimp would certainly be bigger than a regular blimp.  It’d by like a party bus….that FLOATS!!

WHERE CAN WE RENT A FLOATING PARTY BLIMP???

Shannon: Uh…..

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Shannon and I recently discussed the fact that his suitcase is now missing a wheel…not long after, this text conversation happened:

Shannon: I just smelled my arm pits, and they stink.

Leah: Hahaha!  Why aren’t you wearing deodorant?

Shannon: I am.

Leah: Must’ve worn off.  It may be your suitcase wheel took it.  They ran off together. 

Shannon: LOL Yup

Leah: It’s better this way.  You may be stinky, but they’re happy now.

Shannon: Sacrifices

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Now is the moment that Shan realizes he could, at any second, become the victim of my blog.

Saturday’s Dreaded Lists #leahwouldblog

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It has been a rough day for many people today, and in particular, two of my friends.  I debated on whether or not I should post a blog, because I thought that, perhaps, it could be deemed inappropriate.  I mean, how dare I find something to laugh about on a day full of sadness??  But then, it occurred to me—-wouldn’t a day that has so much gloom in it be the MOST IMPORTANT time to find a little laughter?  I say, YES.  And I hope that this elicits at least a small smile, even if today has been horrible.

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I remember, as a small child, thinking to myself, “I can’t wait to grow up, because then I won’t have so many chores!”  Ha! 

When I was around  7-8 years old, my mother began giving lists of chores to me and my siblings every Saturday morning (which had to be completed by noon, when she arrived back home from work), plus we had our regular weekly chores.  As an adult, I would probably look at these same lists and chuckle, because I would now know that the WHOLE array of tasks could probably be completed thoroughly in just an hour or so…at MOST. But as a child……..

I can somewhat recall some thoughts that went through my head as soon I read the dreaded list that had been posted on the refrigerator…and the continuing thoughts throughout those mornings……

-“What the Fudge???  How did I get put on LAUNDRY duty again!!!?? I HATE LAUNDRY!!!  I’ll skip it for now.”

-“I’m pretty sure my bathroom doesn’t really need to be cleaned.  Look at it!! I would definitely be willing to eat off that floor!  I mean…I would surely eat off a plate on a placemat on top of a table on that floor!  That orange stuff? Pffsh…I think my tile is just the color-changing kind.  It is FINE.  Here…if I shut the door, NO ONE will even know that I skipped that chore.”  (I would shut the door..stand there thinking about it for five minutes..re-open the door…..and then spray some old perfume in the air and re-shut the door.) ” THERE!  Now, I’m done.”  (Sorry, Mom.  I think I actually did that a few times.)

-“Clean my room?  I thought it WAS clean.”  (There would be some books on the floor…and stuffed animals…and probably a few My Little Pony horses…and at least 10-15 MORE stuffed animals.)  “Oh THAT stuff??  No problem!!”  (As I shoved them all into the corner of my room.)  “There’s the floor!! Perfect!!” (‘The floor’ when you’re a kid is merely a 5×5 foot square that is clear of debris.)

I’d pull a few toys back out…they would have an adventure for 20 minutes….or an hour, depending on which of them needed rescued…and whether or not the stuffed puppies were granted powers to fly.

Then, I’d see that a favorite Saturday cartoon was on, and I’d spend the entire 30 minutes watching the cartoon while “dusting” the family room.

-“Wait…Can I just use this wood polish on the glass parts of the table, too?  Well sure I can!!! Those streaks will blend out when enough people have put their hands on the table….right?…oh look! My favorite commercial!” (Dust rag is left on the table.)

Another hour has passed.

-“Dishes are stupid!  Why are we out of paper plates?  WHO ATE ALL OF MY FAVORITE CEREAL?? I wanted a third bowl of it!  Ewwwwwwwww DISHES are GROSS!!!”

-“Why can’t we have a normal vacuum?” (We had a Rainbow, which worked REALLY well, but consisted of two parts: The head on the hose that you pushed around the floor, and the motor with the tank of water that you dragged behind yourself.)  To vacuum the stairs required the skills of an acrobat.  “I hope this thing works on Legos……Aaaahhhh!! I dropped the vacuum’s motor and tank down the stairs!!!  Stop it! Someone stop it!!! LOOK OUT!!!!!”

When it came to laundry, a load consisted of ALL clothing that could be STUFFED into the washer. With a family of six, one can imagine how much the dirty hamper accrued in a week.  There were two types of loads.  The “white load” and the “everything else” loads.

-“Why the hell are there so many socks?? Who decided a ‘white load’ was legal!  There ARE NO MATCHES!!”  (I would stand and stare at the offensive load of laundry for 10 minutes before folding one item, and then I’d begin staring again, completely overwhelmed and deciding that it was more important that I find what “shapes” could be seen in the different, haphazardly placed clothing, as if it was a giant Rorschach test.) “Oh look!  A white elephant!  It’s holding a sock!”

After about 4-5 hours of working ‘diligently’, it would be time for my mother to return home from work.   I would hear the garage door opening, and at that moment, it was like I was injected with adrenaline! Suddenly, I was folding everything at lightning speed!!  Matching or not, those socks were being stuck together!  And by the time Mom walked through the door, I was “done” with my chores.