Seriously.

I don't want to talk about it.

Stuff It Up Your Stocking

I spent an entire day Wednesday searching for an electric frying pan or electric jar opener from Black and Decker. All the stores I went to were out of them and the employees looked at me like I was crazy when I asked them if they had any. Because it was 3 days before Christmas. But I wasn't even the idiot who left the shopping until then. I was done with my shopping. It was my dad. But he doesn't like shopping. Or planning in advance. Or paying in advance for that matter. So even though he had to go to Southcenter mall anyways to pay a bill, he still sent me to three malls looking for things he could give my mother. I ended up buying an overpriced personal DVD player that she wanted, wrapping it up and cursing my way through the day. But did he say thank you? No. "Oh, and while you're out... could you get all the stocking stuffers?"

And later that night I had to go to my sister's house for dinner and to spend the night. The dinner was just for me because it was my birthday dinner. But my mom and dad threw a fit because they wanted to be invited. But my sister said no. But Wayne, instead of just dropping me off, jumped out of the car ahead of me, ran up the steps into my sister's house and made himself comfortable. Then when my sister and her husband had to leave to take their dog to the doggie ER, my brother cried to me about how selfish I was for not spending more time with him even though I had just spent the entire day with him shopping for that stupid DVD player. These were his reasons...
1. I didn't go shopping with him on Monday
2. He was better than me because he visited me on Friday
3. I always brought other people along
4. My "one minute" always means "one hour"
So I yelled at him. In sign. And I told him the following...
1. I had the flu on Monday. He knew that. But did anybody call me at all that day to ask if I was okay? No.
2. He came over on Friday with his laptop and said two words to me. Hi and Good-bye. He came over for the wireless internet, not for me.
3. I care about a lot of people and I'm only here for 2 weeks.
4. My "one minute" means "one hour" when I spend that "one minute" with him too.
And then I told him to shove it and grow up. And then we played darts.

I hate Christmas because we never do anything but argue. Nobody plans anything and then when we're in the middle of an unplanned day somebody gets mad at somebody else for not planning anything who then blames somebody else for being lazy and then the tree starts on fire. I do have a few traditions. This is what they are...
1. I buy all the stocking stuffers (which I didn't do this year)
2. I go grocery shopping for all the "holiday food" (which I didn't do this year)
3. I ignore them yelling at me for getting the wrong things and spend both days in the kitchen cooking meals and treats with my headphones on
4. We eat the same breakfast of English muffins, sausage, eggs and orange juice on Christmas plates and glasses.
5. We open presents... well, we watch Wayne open presents.
6. We go take naps (I read a book)

I have to be at my mother's house by noon. I don't know when I can leave on Christmas. Probably not until evening. It's after eleven so I'd better go pack the essentials... my headphones and my big bottle of Excedrin. Bring in the new year.

What It's Like To Be 24

My Birthday was on Sunday. But since it officially started on Thursday with our dinner at Olive Garden, I begin here. So far, being 24 has included...

• One delightful meal with wonderful friends including some game that involved me getting hit in the head with my presents and giving out compliments or wishes or something
• One equally delightful Italian woman who reminded me how utterly lucky I was to have so many friends who loved me
• One red-eye flight to Seattle and a very generous roommate for making the drive to the airport with me
• Seeing my Julie and five beautiful babies
• Having my family birthday dinner cancelled because my mom didn't feel like it, but getting to go see a movie with Julie which is really what I wanted to do anyway
• Spending over $25 on medication for my two-week long cold
• Getting over that cold on Sunday morning
• Going to church and seeing so many friendly faces from my childhood
• Eating dinner at my parents' house
• My grandma asking over and over if it was my birthday
• My grandma, in a moment of clarity, asked how old I was... I told her I was 24. She gasped, smiled at me and said, "I got married when I was 24! This could be your year!" (Even my senile grandmother has it out for me.)
• Watching Super Size Me
• Getting the Flu (Double Badness... I won't go into details)
• Having poor Julie take care of me as I lay useless on her couch for over 24 hours
• Having my Sarah come over with a birthday present and a reminder that I was missing out on making gingerbread cookies (I'd better still get to eat one later this week!)

Which brings me to today. Tuesday. I like Tuesday. And I feel good. I think I'll go shopping...

A Letter I Composed Last Night

To Whom It May Concern at Wasatch Elementary,

I am writing to inform you of my recent decision to come in late to work on Wednesday, December 15. My reasons for this decision are as follows...

• In the last 48 hours, 29 of them were work hours, 10 were hours asleep and the other 9 were spent praying for death.
• I have gained almost 15 pounds since last Christmas.
• My lungs burn, I'm still fighting off the last of my Pink Eye episode and I'm coughing up things that should never be allowed in the human body.
• I have a huge final tomorrow that I haven't been able to study for it yet and I will cry through Christmas if I lose my only solid A.
• My foot hurts.
• The heater on my car doesn't work.
• Let's face it, I would have been late anyways.
• I just took NyQuil so there's no way I'm getting up in time to make it even if I change my mind or if you say no.
• My roommate is crazy which means I haven't had a good night's sleep in four months.
• My mom is crazy which means I haven't had a good night's sleep in almost 24 years.
• You're crazy if you think I'll be showing up at 8:30.
• My head hurts, the room is spinning, I have no friends, no life, no motivation and my room is a mess.
• You can't make me.

In conclusion, I'll let you know when I'm coming and I'll let you know when I'm leaving. You will smile and nod and pretend to care. And we'll all walk away happy. Or at least alive.
Sincerely,
Emily Hansen

Hell Week 1 and 1/2

Yesterday I worked at Wasatch from 8:30am until 3:45pm. Then I drove at the speed of light in order to work at Kara's from 4pm until 11pm. Then I went to my friend's house to pick up her prescription for Loratab since she won't be paid until Friday and she has ovarian cysts that make life very painful. Then I came home and couldn't sleep.

Today I work at Wasatch from 8:30am until 4:30pm. Then I will then quickly drive to the mall to work at Kara's from 5pm until 11pm. Then I will have to hurry home and study because I have two finals tomorrow.

Tomorrow I work at Wasatch from 8:30am until 3:45pm. I will then have to run to campus and pray the line in the Testing Center isn't too long so I can at least have a few minutes to take my 515 test and then be at my scheduled three-hour 420 final by five.

But then it's over. Because I get to play on Thursday night. And early Friday morning I will be on a plane bound for Seattle.

I can almost see the end of this semester's dark, grimy, cold and depressing tunnel.

Excedrin and Mountain Dew

I got roughly five hours of sleep last night. Which wouldn't be a big deal if I had gotten regular amounts of nightly sleep for the past four months. But I haven't. And so today I look like I'm addicted to crack. I have bloodshot and stingy eyes. I can't walk in a straight line and my speech is even more slurred than usual. My head felt like it was being squeezed in a vice and I could hear the pounding in my ears. There was only one solution. I dug up a couple of Excedrin and then walked down to the teacher's lounge to buy a Mountain Dew to wash the pills down with. It reminded me of a scene from several years ago that brought a bit of joy to my heart and got me through the remainder of the day.

Dec 6 - 10 Hell Week Update (finished items in italics):
CPSE 410 Case Study Portfolio
CPSE 410 Presentation
CPSE 410 Final Exam
CPSE 420 Case Study Portfolio
CPSE 420 Presentation
CPSE 420 Final Exam
CPSE 400 Final Paper
CPSE 400 Final Exam
IP&T 515 Final Exam

Babysitter's Blog: Day 4 of 6

This is my fifth day with little sleep the previous night. I have done at least two dozen loads of laundry. Cleaned and re-cleaned each room at least a dozen times (a baker's dozen perhaps?) and have run the dishwasher five times. I have changed about two dozen diapers (some of them containing toxic waste as Derek would say). I have helped three children with their homework each night, trying to explain the differences between different types of Canadian settlers, helping with third grade vocabulary and first grade speech lessons. I have wiped away uncountable tears and have rocked the small and the big babies to sleep. I have stayed up late making last minute arrangements for the next day, picking up toys and watching a bit of unanimated TV. I have worked hard this week to make the house clean, the children happy and the environment upbeat. I'm telling you, having five kids around is hard work!! And I've loved every minute of it. I've laughed so hard my sides have hurt more times than I've changed diapers. And I've had a blast making the messes that never seem to get cleaned up. And there have been more moments of pride for their accomplishments than there have been loads of laundry.

A big piece of me wants to just stay here forever. No. Here's a better plan... how about the Faerbers come home from Tahiti to switch places with me? And then when they're at their end they'll switch with me again. And we'll just keep switching and switching. A week at home with the kids. A week on Tahiti with the sun. Sounds like heaven to me.

Poison

"Poison" is the name of the perfume by Christian Dior that once resided in a fancy purple glass bottle with a clear glass lid. Less than five minutes after our arrival home from church, as I was just starting the mass production of chocolate sandwiches, Fallon, number four of the five children I'll be watching until Friday evening came up to me and handed me Poison. Empty. With the lid gently placed back in position. With a Q-tip inside. She looked up at me as if waiting for a thank you after her discovery. I don't know the worth of the perfume. Or how much was in there. But I do know that her breath smelt like a woman ready for a night of dancing. I panicked. Within five minutes I had killed their little girl. I sent the other kids downstairs and searched for the Ipecac. I couldn't find any. I called my mom. No answer. I called her cell phone. No answer. I called Sandy. She said it was probably fine, to give her milk and to call 911 and talk to Poison Control. I poured Fallon some milk as I called 911.
"911 Emergency. How can I help you?"
"My little girl swallowed some perfume. Could you please connect me to Poison Control?"
"Is she vomiting?"
"No."
"Does she look sick?"
"No."
"Do you want me to send an emergency vehicle to look her over?"
"No. I think she'll be okay. I just want to talk to Poison Control to make sure."
"Okay, I'll connect and when they answer I'll talk first."
"Okay."
"Poison Control. How can I help you?"
"I have a mother on the line who's little girl drank perfume. Go ahead." (She hangs up. I stop for a second to try to understand why it was that she had to talk first to say absolutely nothing I couldn't have said.)
"How old is your little girl?"
"4."
"What did she drink?"
"Poison. It's the name of the perfume she drank ironically enough."
"Well, perfume is alcohol based with a few oils in it. It would just be irritable to their mouth."
"Didn't seem to phase her any."
"Is she in good health normally?"
"No, she has Down syndrome and a bad heart."
"Huh. Okay. Ya, well... she probably won't even throw up. Did you give her some milk?"
"Yes."
"Okay, well she should be fine. If she starts acting funny or getting sick give us a call back."
"I will. Thank you."

And that was my first day on the job. Poison and 911. I'm ready for my bad mommy award...

Really.

Tomorrow morning I leave for Seattle to watch five babies for five days. I'm excited. Really.

Also, I just saw on TV that a new Adam Sandler movie is coming out. I love him. Really.

It's 1am and I haven't packed yet. Mostly because my clothes are still in the dryer and partly because I'm too lazy. Really. Really.

Relax. Just Do It.

I'm getting to that point in the semester where I'm starting to sweat a bit. So I've taken up some new modes of relaxation.

I've started coloring during class. At first I tried to sneak it. Picking only one or two crayons out of my backpack and quietly coloring a page of Mickey and Minnie mouse enjoying a campfire, hidden behind a notebook and my purse. But then a girl asked, "What are you doing that for?" And I had no answer ready so I told her the truth. "Because I like it. It relaxes me. And because I like Mickey Mouse." She watched me color. "Wow, you're right. It's relaxing me just watching you color." I'm a genius. I pulled my box out and proudly added color upon color until Mickey and Minnie were in matching outfits and the night sky had brilliant mixed colors of blue and blue-violet.

I've also taken to a new website I thought of visiting after thinking about how much I missed my friend Heather and how I'd give anything to be in Southern California doing anything but what I'm doing right now. So I went to the San Diego Zoo online. Animals are relaxing. They eat and sleep and don't stress about how many words are in an essay. Then I discovered that not only are there pictures and information about animals but you can actually watch them! As if you're really at the zoo! So I now spend spare moments I find between the hours of 9am and 4pm Pacific Time watching the pandas eating bamboo, the apes swinging between trees, the elephants just walking around and the polar bears playing with whatever they throw in their cage for entertainment.

Also, I've found that almost killing my mother with a quickly developed lie is also relaxing. I have recently inherited five children for five days. I will be watching them during Thanksgiving break while their parents enjoy the blue skies and blue waters of Tahiti. The other night I decided I'd best tell my parents soon to give them time to adjust to the idea. My dad answered, and I told him the new plan. He laughed. Not because he was excited but because he knew I would be murdered by a piercing scream when I told my mother. I heard him creep into his and my mother's bedroom and say, "Linda? Emily's on the phone. She has some shocking news. But it's okay. Everything's okay. The news is just sort of shocking so be ready." I laughed at the introduction and between the three seconds between the end of that intro and the "Hello?" from my mother led me through this thought process..."Wow... this is perfect... he totally set me up... I'll tell her I'm engaged... she'll freak out... no, she'll really like it... then when I take it away she'll be disappointed and as if I'll ever get married and then she'll be even more mad... no, can't use engagement... pregnancy then... yes, i'll tell her i'm pregnant... fornication is funny..." And so I took a deep breath.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Mom... I'm pregnant."
Followed by a quiet, "What?"
"I'm pregnant. I know it's a bit shocking but it's going to be okay."
Almost thirty seconds passed of complete silence and then she laughed, "No you're not!"
I laughed too. Wow, I had her going there. "No, I'm not. But I will have five babies on Thanksgiving."
"No you're not!!"
But I am. And I can't wait! I'll have my coloring pages, my online zoo and my babies. What more does a girl need in her finals survival kit?

My Big Fat Toe

I had to go in for another ingrown toenail surgery today. But it wasn't with the regular doctor I liked. Because my BYU Health Insurance wouldn't cover it. It was at the BYU Health Center. With some guy I didn't trust and who swung his sharp cutting tools around like an overconfident gunslinger about to shoot his own foot. So instead of paying $70 with the guy I like and trust, I spent a $10 co-pay and $37 on medications and powders I'm sure I don't need. I'll also be paying another $10 in two weeks for a check-up that I'm sure I don't need either. So what did I save? About $13 and a trip to SL. What did it cost? My faith in BYU for deciding that students didn't deserve a doctor that's actually gone to medical school, and my feeling of safety when within a mile radius of that place.

Sabbath Day Hauntings

We had thousands of bags of candy to give out last night at the mall. I was dressed up in my pink and black"rock star" get-up. The kids started coming at noon. They were really cute. "Twick-o-Tweat!!" By four-o-clock we were out of candy. I felt too bad turning them down and so we decided to start handing out mis-wraps, mint truffles that had other companies' logos on them. I'm pretty sure we weren't supposed to do that. In fact, we decided never to bring it up again. We handed out about 500 of those. Our supervisor had told us yesterday that if we ran out of candy that we were just supposed to stop and tell them we were out. So at 5-o-clock that's just what I did. I went out and took down our orange "Trick-or-Treating Here" signs. But parents got angry. They came in anyway. We told them we were out of candy. They said, "A candy store out of candy?! What about that right there?" They pointed to our jar of unwrapped mint truffles that we hand out as samples. We told them that they weren't wrapped and we felt that that wouldn't be okay. Isn't that breaking the biggest and oldest Halloween Trick-or-Treating rule? They said to shut up and give their kids the candy. And they want one too! Fine! So we started delving out unwrapped mint truffles. I handed the job over to our new 16-year-old employee. My five our stretch of bending over the counter to hand out candy had to end. I pretended to make caramel apples. We were on our last jar of samples when I heard him. Mr. Nasty. He started yelling at Miss Sixteen. He told her that there was a line and that it was horribly rude to hand out one at a time. He tried to grab the jar from her to spill them on the counter. She pulled away and said she couldn't do that. The candy wasn't wrapped. He started yelling at her saying her method of distribution was too slow (as he was holding up the line by stopping long enough to yell at her.) I snapped. I did. I had dealt with rude parents all night. I told that guy that we were doing all we could. That we had taken down out orange signs hours ago. That we had planned for thousands of children but that we were out and making due with what we had for the children. And that he could take his bad attitude right out of my store. He screamed and yelled. Security came. His kids ran away. I prayed that they would be kidnapped and taken to live with somebody who had a soul.

Halloween

Tomorrow is Halloween at Wasatch Elementary. It's the cutest day of the year and a very important one for every teacher's sanity. At least it is for mine. And I think it has saved many a child's life. Oftentimes when a child is being absurdly annoying or defiant often mutter, "You're lucky you're cute right now!" And it's true. I believe that there are certain children who's lives have been spared just because they're cute. Halloween strengthens this childhood defense. Because during those times that I'm at my end, when I think the only thing left is to scream and run away leaving the situation unsolved, I can picture that child in their Halloween costume and laugh a little thus sparing the child's life and years of therapy for both of us.

Last year there was this little hellion of a child. Only six years old but very defiant, uncooperative and rude. Every day was a struggle. Every thing was a struggle. I was ready to snap. But then came along good ol' Halloween to the rescue. The kid showed up with a home-made frog costume created out of a green sweat suit, foam styrofoam balls for eyes on his green hood and even little green felt frog feet strapped to his feet. He came running out to recess. No, he came hopping out to recess (literally) and I laughed so hard I cried. And from that day forward every time he was just about to make me crazy, I pictured him in that frog costume and it seemed that all was right in the world again.

And so I look forward to tomorrow's festivities when the hundreds of children at Wasatch will dress up and parade around the gym in their costumes. But almost as much, I look forward to being able to dress up. I spent almost an hour tonight in Claire's picking out the perfect accessories to go along with my costume. And since it seems that there will be no other opportunity to dress up this year, I have rise to the occasion tomorrow and get all of my Halloween fever relieved during our half day in the first grade at Wasatch Elementary. And maybe, just maybe, when one of my co-workers or student gets frustrated with me they'll picture me in my Halloween costume, give a little giggle and let it slide.

Table for One

I had another long day. I got out of class at 7pm and left from campus to run some errands. I went to University Mall, bought a stopwatch for class and then realized that I hadn't eaten yet that day. So I wandered into the food court, bought a sandwich and sat down to eat it. I was almost done with my meal when I suddenly snapped out of my own thoughts to look around. There were whole families talking and fighting over fries, couples, groups of friends. And I was sitting alone.

And I didn't care. I looked at my watch. I had to hurry.

I finished my sandwich, picked up my things and continued on with my errands.

I Believe

Yesterday, in the First Grade I was sitting in the back of the classroom hidden by a book case. Fortunately for me the book case didn't block the sound of this conversation between two of the boys in the back row...
Colson: Did you know that Santa Claus is magic?
Jake: Yeah.
C: Cuz he is.
J: I know.
C: No, really. He really is magic.
J: Duh, okay? I know! I even saw him once!
C: No way! Really?
J: Ya, I was asleep on Christmas Eve and Santa Claus climbed through my window because he couldn't get in the house any other way and when he was climbing in my bedroom window he accidentally stepped on my little sister's squeaky toy and it squeaked and it woke me up and I opened my eyes and I saw him! And he looked surprised and scared that I saw him and ran away.
C: WOAH!!! Really?
J: Ya, it was awesome!
C: I can't believe you actually saw the real Santa Claus!
J: I know. It was really cool.
C: Hey, you guys! Everybody! Jake saw the real Santa Claus! He climbed into his bedroom window on Christmas Eve!
Class: Ooh! Aaw! Woah! Cool! Awesome!!

Rah Rah, Ry-Ry!

Today's the Ryster's birthday. The good ol' Buckarama*. And I do mean old. 25. A quarter of a century. Old. I remember when my sister turned 25. And I called her and teased her and made her cry. And she cursed me that one day I too would turn 25. I didn't believe her. But now it's only 2 years away. Okay one year and 2 months. Oh, why did I have to tease her? Why am I cursed to one day become like Ry-Ry? Old. And kind of weird. With imaginable hair. Happy Birthday, Ry-Ry!

*I am not responsible for the contents of this website. It was not thoroughly explored. I pretty much just saw the page that said, "It's not about Buck" and almost died laughing and thought it best to write a blog that would allow me to share it and celebrate the guy's birthday at the same time.

Reassurance

I was running late to work yesterday. Just like most days. Okay. All days. But yesterday I was a bit more late than usual. It's my job to get a little girl off of the school bus in the morning since she can't walk down the steps by herself. I usually make it right before the bus pulls up but yeterday I found myself driving two cars behind the bus which meant I had to really hurry. I pulled into a parking space, grabbed my backpack out of the back seat and made a mad dash towards the parked bus. I was almost there when my backpack suddenly rejected it's load of text books, binders, childrens' reinforcers and trail mix. My water bottle shot off towards the bushes. I took off my backpack and started to pick up my belongings. The bus driver or a peer would help the little girl off the bus. She'd be fine. But I was off to a rough start. But then a little fourth grader who had been playing football with his friends ran over and started helping me pick up.
"Your stuff just fell out?"
"Ya, I guess I didn't zip it up all the way. Thanks for helping."
"No problem. This one time, my cousin gave me his old backpack to use which I thought was really cool until I used it and it had a huge hole in the bottom and all of my stuff dumped out just like yours."
"That stinks."
"Ya, so it's okay. It's really not a big deal. It happens."
I thanked him again for helping me pick up my things and for being so kind and he ran off as quickly as he had come. I smiled. It was cute having a little fourth-grader reassure me. And I wanted to keep him. He could be my little reassurer. That way whenever I did anything stupid he could tell me that it wasn't a big deal and that it could happen to anyone. And whenever I got frustrated he could tell me that I was doing the right thing and could handle it. And when I was pressed for time he could run around and help me pick up the mess I made. And I wouldn't mind keeping him around because he's a cute kid and pretty small so maybe he doesn't eat that much.

Senitheft

Jon Harmon said that I could make up that word senitheft and that it if I said that it meant "stealing from old people" that he would support that. Thanks, Jon. I appreciate that support. You've always been a dear friend to my warped vocabulary.

I chose this title because my parents may very well be senithieves. They've stolen money from me before. They steal money from my little brother and now, I do believe they have moved on to my very old grandmother. The cause for this reasoning are supported by the two following examples.

A) My mother offered me my grandmother's money to pay for school even though I know my grandmother very well and she has never gotten me a gift over the sum of $20. I refused the money trying to prevent senitheft.

B) Today when I was talking to my parents trying to decide whether or not to come home for Thanksgiving, my parents offered to let my grandmother pay for the trip. The conversation went as follows... (the phone went back and forth between my parents)
Em: I don't know if I can afford both holidays. And I have stuff to do down here.
Mom: Do you want to come home for Thanksgiving?
Em: Yes, but I don't want it to break me.
Mom: You should come home.
Em: It would be nice.
Dad: Are you coming home for Thanksgiving?
Em: I don't know if I can afford both holidays. And I have stuff to do down here if I can't come home.
Dad: Do you want to come home for Thanksgiving?
Em: Yes, but not if it'll break me.
Dad: Huh, let me talk to your mom.
Em: okay.
Dad: Your mom says that your grandmother says she'll give you the money for the trip if you want to come hom.
Em: Dad...
Dad: What?
Em: Did she really say that?
Dad: Yes...
Em: Dad? Are you sure?
Dad: Well, mom said she said that.
Em: Are you sure we're not stealing from an old lady?
Dad: (laughs) How about you talk to mom and grandma about that?
Em: Okay.
Mom: What?
Em: Are you sure we're not stealing from grandma?
Mom: Yes! You're grandma really wants you to be with the family for Thanksgiving.
Em: Are you sure?
Mom: Want me to ask her again?
Em: Yes.
Mom: (shouts to grandma) Mom? Do you want Emily to come home for Thanksgiving?
Grandma in the background: What?
Mom: Do you want Emily to come home for Thanksgiving?
Grandma: Ya... sure... whatever...
Mom: (to me) Your grandma says she really wants you to come home.
Em: But you didn't mention her paying for it. Does she know that her money's been offered?
Mom: YES! Gosh! (to grandma) Are you willing to help Emily pay for her trip home so she can be with the family for Thanksgiving?
Grandma: Uh...
Mom: So that she can come home and the whole family can be here?
Grandma: Fine! Give her the money!
Mom: (to me) Your grandma says that she really wants you to come home and that she's happy to give you the money.
Em: Huh. It didn't sound like that to me. I have enough in my account right now to cover it so how about I pay for the trip myself and if later I can't afford groceries then I'll call and grandma can help me buy some food. But I think I'll be okay.
Mom: Ya, okay. That'll work.
Grandma from the background: Does she want the money or not? You need me to write a check right now?
Mom: No, I think Emily's going to try and do it herself.
Grandma: Oh, alright...

I may have prevented senitheft this time but I can't always be there to prevent it and now I'm a really poor white girl. D'oh! It's a good thing Seattle is gorgeous. Like Kat.

Drunk and Dialing

My sister called me tonight. My sister hardly ever calls me. So I answered it. She asked me what I was doing. I told her. She asked me again. I told her again. There wasn't anything wrong with the connection. Nope, she was "drunk and dialing." She said that she was just hanging out with the guy she married and decided to get drunk and dial. It's a fun game she plays. See, my sister is much more relaxed and honest when she's drunk. And much slower. She actually has a list of people she calls when she's drunk. And I am now on that list. "Aren't you glad that you're on my drunk and dialing list? See, I'm not like mom and dad who only calls you because they're worried about something. I call because I want to know what you're up to." In all honesty I am glad to be on her drunk and dialing list. Not only is my sister more relaxed and honest and nice, so am I. It was a pleasant conversation, but it's still just a drinking game. Sounds like a quality FHE activity to me!

Female Rage

I was listening to my Female Rage CD today in my car. It's a beautiful outlet that I had almost forgotten about. On my way home I rolled down my window, turned it up and started singing the angry girl songs and thinking to myself, "All men are..." when I looked over at the car to my right and saw him. A nasty older white man in a beat up truck with greasy red hair and an even greasier red mustache. He winked at me and kissed his lips at me and did the upward head nod thing. I turned back to face the front, clenched my steering wheel and sang louder.