Fuck, I Miss Living At Home. FREE FOOD.

So, I try to use this blog for good more than evil, but there are times when I can just not resist. It's the only place besides the bar I release my filter even a little anymore as an "adult".

I know a girl who recently left home in dramatic fashion at 18 to go live with her 23 year old boyfriend in his mom's house. This is typical behavior in the lands around my hometown. In fact, my friends and I actually go in search of facebook pages that are left open to the public describing these events in amazing ghetto lingo we like to call "tawkin". We make fun of them, hash out how and when the babydaddy will show back up, predict their future and ultimately...feel better about our own lives. It's a real treat. (Anything other than working AT work usually is) Anyhoo, this particular girl's life has been very different from the typical trashmonsters posting this rubbish. A lot more money and a new car since she was 16. Not too shabby. This was her boyfriend's recent facebook status.

"I may not be going to college or have gone to college but I do have a PhD its called a working mans PhD witch has taught me the value of dollar and that's why I have what I have and don't rely on my parents for everything witch makes them more proud of me that I dont rely on them. Also I love my girlfriend (whose name I shall leave out of the blog) :)" (<---- but that smiley face was real and stays put)

I will make the following statements and readers can be the judge.

1. I don't think this guy is a "bad person". Which my readers know is the worst thing I think you can say about someone. I think he's young and dumb and going through an emotionally idiotic time. We've all been there. For me, it was called 18-30.

2. He lives with his girlfriend in his mother's house.

3. His girlfriend's parents still pay for her cell phone, medical insurance, medicine, etc.

4. His girlfriend drives his car or his mom's car to wherever she needs to go.

5. His girlfriend is not currently employed by a business.

6. Someone pays for his girlfriend's food, the roof she lives under, clothing, toiletries, and future schooling.

7. Among other things, he does not understand the use of "which" from "witch". And I don't think you're a self-made man at 23 when your mom still does your laundry. (just my personal opinion there)

7.5 He did not need that second reiteration that he doesn't rely on his parents. It made it even more evident.

8. This was one incredible run on sentence. And here's my biggest point: I'm not even judging. I still get help from my parents and I'm a grown-ass woman. I don't look down upon those who take what their parents offer, especially when their parents have more than most. I do hope they don't abuse it. What I really don't think this guy realizes is that he gave an inadvertent Tyson-style uppercut to his girlfriend in that status. She depends on everyone for almost everything right now. And rightly so, she's 18, but believes she's totally independent, which is a hoot! When I first read it, I actually thought he was bashing the shit out of her via social network by calling her out and then saying he loved her at the end. Like "My parents are proud of me. I can totally take care of myself, but everyone has to take care of you. Oh, but I love you, smiley face for added sarcasm"

That... honestly would have made more sense.

Oh, to be young again! Sweet youth and the brawny, righteous power of the internet! Hold on to that self-assuredness now, Philosophy Doctor Working Man. Because someday, you will look back on this time and cringe. At least I hope you do.

And PS, no. I can't understand why my fonts magically change and refuse to change back after I copy and paste from somewhere else. I would ask my parents, but I want them to be proud that I eventually figure it out on my own. If I ever do. Which is doubtful. Sorry, mom and dad. I love you. :(

Tacky Tent Toast

Let's raise a glass,

And drink to the lass,

Whose name is Christine Gose.

She belittled our tent,

Which she gave up for Lent,

To stop us, she was not close.

Though she talked a big game,

And said our beer tent was oh-so-lame,

But to capacity this bitch is so close.

So stick it in your ass

This tent's got class

In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost.

-Allan Presley, Poet Laureate of the Marcellus Bluegill Frolic

What's The Time? It's Time To Get GILL.

You know what time it is?? NO? That's because you only know or care if you're from Marcellus, Michigan. IT'S BLUEGILL FROLIC TIME, YA'LL!!!

Can't wait for church fish fry, fire station chicken, corn dogs galore, elephant ears til vomit threatens to ruin the party, then spending at least a half a week's pay on beer tent tickets. I haven't entered the arm wrestling competition yet, but that's because I don't want people to start training harder, Rocky montage style, sensing my arrival.

And the most important part of it all; enjoying smiles, hugs, gut-crushing laughter and hardcore baby lovins with my friends and family for a whole weekend while celebrating the town that made us who we are. Or aren't (in a good way). Man...what a difference a year can make. I am one happy little hillbilly!

www.youtube.com/watch?v=BaAAD6YA1wc

This should help you get in the mood to frolic!!

Gold Medal Abs, Motherfuckers

Whenever I talk about the rock-hard, megahuge boner Ryan Lochte gives me, men feel the need to say shit like "You know he's dumb, right? Like... not just dumb, but maybe literally has-severe-brain-trauma-fucking-dumb". It's not just one person either, if there's a group of guys, they'll ban together to let me know how Ryan Lochte's brain just isn't up to snuff. One guy actually brought up videos on youtube to show me just how ridiculous I am for professing my eye lust for Lochte.

Um.... so? If his brain has whatever those little dips are called between the hip and tummy, then he's a GD GENIUS in my book.

MENSA called. They want their hearts back. You know? Because he stole them. So they let him in. Just... never mind. All my blood is flowing to other parts.

Every Siren Is A Symphony

My dreams have been even more cray than usual lately. Being me, I can't help but read into them.

Night before last, some sort of pushy mafia STEPS TO THIS and tries to force me to to give them things I don't owe them. Then they take it to the next level, and I have to run out of a house in semi-formal wear, dragging a little girl that belongs to that family with me to save her from them. Just as I start to get her to safety, I turn to see them REALLY ratchet up the crazy and kill a pregnant lady with a machine gun. I basically turned on the wheels at that point and damn near pulled the little girl's arm out of the socket running away with her. When I realize there's not enough places for us to hide, I skid out around the corner of a house, drop down and pull up a few pieces of lattice that close in the underside of a deck, shove her through the hole and crawl in after her hoping nobody saw us. I tell her she has to be as quiet as possible and we're not moving until they're all gone. Then I wake up. WTF.

There are several different ways to break this monstrosity down right now, but I'm not going to into them. I was just pumped as fuck at how well I could run in heels, how heroic I was to actually save someone else besides myself, and how smart was to think to hide where city woodchucks do.

Last night. The dream actually starts out hilariously. Somehow, I'm extremely good friends with the Kardashian sisters. (Khloe obvs being my fave) I have to go to some sort of family picnic with them. On the way to said picnic, they explain to me I have to meet and make friends with their surrogate father (besides Bruce?) who happens to be Larry David. Oh, and they call him Lawrence. Upon arrival at the party, they have made their hellos and I spot Larry. I introduce myself while calling him Larry, and after he compliments my outfit and actually say "you're killing it", he has the nuts to correct me and say "No, it's Lawrence for these girls". Then I turn around and I somehow have the bigger nuts to say "I'm not one of these girls." Then I smile my best "sorry I'm not sorry, motherfucker" smile and stride out of there. For no reason at all. The poor guy just wanted to be called Lawrence. What is my problem?

Khloe wasn't even mad though. (duh) She and I end up back at some apartment, and we're having a grand old time. A guy I may or may not be sweet on shows up. For some odd reason, we start to have these extremely physical competitions involving very elaborate obstacle courses. Feats of strength! It's all too complicated to try to describe, but it ends with us sprinting out toward this cliff that you can't actually tell is a cliff. Before I know it, he's leapt off and I'm right behind him. And I don't just jump, I jump off that mofo like I'm about to take flight. Then... I look down. And it flashes through my brain that I'm far too high to survive the impact to the water. But I pedal my legs and wave my arms to give me optimal chance for landing without shattering my life and at the last second, I flex my legs straight down and grasp my nose as hard as I can like I'm a veteran member of the Coast Guard. I plunge into the water... and smile. A big huge smile that I was probably embarrassingly doing in my sleep. I unfurl and kick my way back up to the surface. When I arrive, the intro to Every Teardrop Is A Waterfall by Coldplay starts blasting, (yes, I'm so weird, my brain scored and soundtracked my own dream) my face is no longer one of shock, it has morphed into a sly grin of "yeah, meh, I jump off shit like that all the time." and he doesn't seem surprised at all. He's pleasantly looking at me as if he had no doubt I would make that jump flawlessly. The music quiets a little, then he suggests we swim across the cold, choppy, grey channel we're currently treading water in because "I'm hungry, do you want to get lunch or something?". Of course I want lunch. Thanks for asking. Paddle paddle kick kick.

I have no idea what any of that means.... but

Maybe I'm in the black, maybe I'm on my knees
Maybe I'm in the gap between the two trapezes
But my heart is beating and my pulses start
Cathedrals in my heart

Now that song will be in my head all day.

Oh, You Won A Gold Medal? I Got Sunflowers for TWO DOLLARS

So. No big deal. Just walking around the Perrysburg Farmer's Market in my US Soccer shirt, carrying my adorbs red flowery umbrella while it sprinkles. You know, just mixing it up, talking to florists, farmers, bread bakers. Telling them I need their cards because I'd like to write about them for a new local publication. Just feeling cultured as shit and happy as a little bird in a puddle. Bought some sunflowers and tuberose for Kate Spade (new name for twin set) who is sick. As usual. Smelling them and singing all the way to her apartment as the clouds part and the rain clears up.

Just chilling on her couch now. Breeze blowing through the screen. Discussing dudes. Sharing stories. Giggling. Crushing.

Fuck yeah, life. I'm livin' you! Livin' you goooood.