My Mom Kicks Ass

At first glance, my mom doesn't seem like the most intimidating person. But trust me, I lived under her roof for about 20 years, and she can definitely turn up the intimidation factor. My high school friends will back me up on this.

Despite the numerous disagreements (and outright fights, which made up about a three-year time span of our relationship) my mom and I have had over the years, she is by far my best friend. I don't think I know anyone who has as close of a bond or relationship with their mother as I do with mine. I'm not trying to brag, I'm just telling the truth. When I say I can talk to my mom about anything, I mean exactly that. Think about the most intimate, personal conversation you would have with another person, probably your closest friend. Those are the kind of things I tell my mom. She never judges me on anything I tell her, and she is always supportive of my decisions. Eventually.

I'm telling you all this so you can understand the bond my mom and I share and just how close we really are. About a week ago, I made the 350+ mile drive to my parents' house for my hometown's county fair. My parents own a feed and seed store in a neighboring town, so I stopped on my way through. During our conversation, my mom told me that they had recently fired an employee (for anonymity's sake, I'll call him Derek). When she told me why, I think my jaw nearly hit the floor.

Apparently Derek had trouble filling out his time card correctly (or at all) despite being walked through it numerous times by both my mom and my dad. When my mom confronted him face-to-face about it, he became very belligerent and disrespectful toward her, both as an employee to his employer, and as a 20-year-old kid to an adult. When she told him he should just go home and not bother coming back again, Derek took things to a new level of disrespect.

He called my mother what I believe to be the worst, most disrespectful term in the English language: a c***. As he was leaving, my mom demanded, "What did you just say?"

The little prick actually repeated it!

"You're a f***ing c***."

I don't know how most people were raised, but in my household you did NOT say things like that, especially to an authority figure, and my parents have never had a tolerance for disrespect.

My mom walked right over to Derek and, in front of employees and customers, slapped him across the face (at this point in my mom's story, I threw my arms in the air and yelled "Go, Mom!"). Derek apparently raised his hand as if to hit my mom back when my dad came over and effectively ended the little exchange. Needless to say, Derek is no longer employed at my parents' store, and never will be again.

My dad later said that he had never seen my mom slap anyone before. Well...I have. When I was 13, my mom and I were having our annual large-scale fight when, for the first time, I refused to back down. I kept arguing and back-talking my mom to the point where she slapped me across the face. Despite the fact that I completely deserved it (neither of us remember what I said, but we both know it was very disrespectful. I did NOT call her a name, though), my mom continues to feel guilty about slapping me to this day, and apologizes every time I bring it up. I have a feeling, however, that this latest slap is not one she will ever feel the need to apologize for.

In short, you don't mess with my mom!

WTF?!? (There is no other title for this...)

I found this on another blog (an extremely interesting one at that! If you haven't ripped your own eyes out after seeing this, you should really check out her site!), and it was so unbelievably awful that I had to share.

There can't be people out there who actually exist like this...can there?



You know, I would call this girl an "idiot", but when going by the actual definition, and the fact that she actually used punctuation and something that vaguely resembled sentence structure, I think the official definition of "moron" would be more suitable. And that's being pretty generous.

You just know that, somewhere down the line, either she's going to end up married to the richest vegetable in the world...or with her own reality show. Who knows, maybe both. At least neither of those will need require basic spelling skills...

Ugh, seriously, I am so...I don't even have words. Me. No words. Apparently, this girl's stupidity is as contagious as the plague. Here's what the inside of my head sounds like right now (picture this in very loud, outraged tones and random bursts): Imbecile! Simpleton! Cretin! I think that one may be my favorite.

I am embarrassed on behalf of my sex. Please, God, if you ever give me a daughter, please, please let her have my common sense! Hell, I'll settle for a fully-functioning sense of self-worth! Ugh, I think this made both the English major, and the woman in me die a little.

Bite Me

In light of the vampire phenomenon that has been sweeping (or plaguing, depending on how you look at it) the nation since the release of the Twilight movies, and what with Eclipse hitting theaters this week, combined with the fact that I just finished the latest episode of True Blood, I thought I would take a moment to share my own immortal obsession.

For the record, I have been fascinated (and yes, slightly obsessed) with vampires since the mid-90s, which means my interest far predates any Cullen. In fact, I'm pretty sure my favorite Sesame Street character was Count von Count. Then of course came the Buffy stage (which I may not have completely outgrown yet...but once I own all seven seasons, I'm sure I'll be able to move on), and of course the enormous crush on first Angel, and later a smaller one on Spike. Sure, Edward is gorgeous, I won't deny that, but where's the sinister, bad-boy attitude? Where are the fangs?? And what is with the sparkling??? Real vampires burst into flame in sunlight, not turn into your own personal jewelry store. He may have generated innumerable fansites, but Angel is the original heartbreakingly-tortured vampire.

Of course you can't forget the "original" vampire (well, depending on what mythology you read, anyway...); Count Dracula started it all, didn't he? But, did you know that there is even mention of vampires in ancient Greek mythology? Ok, not exactly the Americanized-version of vampires, but something very similar! Enter Lamia. Thank you, Sherrilyn Kenyon (aka, the best vampire/romance/action novelist of all time) and your Dark Hunter novels for that juicy piece of trivia! Eat your heart out, Anne Rice. Your vampires are definitely badass, but I guess I like the "romantic" idea of bloodsuckers... Combining vampires and Greek mythology? Anyone who knows me knows that that's about as awesome as combining chocolate and peanut butter!

Then there are the modern vampire interpretations: the latest vampire tv installments (The Vampire Diaries (which I have yet to see, but plan to catch up on ASAP) & True Blood), the Anne Rice film interpretations (Interview with the Vampire, Queen of the Damned), Blade (also awesome, by the way), and of course, the Underworld franchise.

So, what is the point of this blog? Well...there isn't really one. It's purely for my own enjoyment and entertainment. So if you're bored now, I suggest you stop reading here.

My mom and I have this running joke between us about how there must have been a vampire somewhere back in the family tree, or at least that I must be part vampire in some way. Here is why I think I would make a good vampire:
* I am and have always been fascinated by blood. When my friends would run away or cringe at the sight of it, I was the one who wanted a closer look. Weird, I know.
* I am incredibly pale. I mean incredibly pale. Even for a light-haired, blue-eyed girl of Scotch/Irish and Norwegian descent.
* I start to sunburn within 10 minutes of being outside (believe me, I wish I were joking here...). Even with sunscreen on, I break out in a rash when in direct sunlight for a while. Needless to say, I would much rather be outdoors at night.
* I hate garlic. Even garlic mashed potatoes...just too much.
* I have a "thing" for biting. Won't go into much more detail on that, but biting and being bitten...very appealing to me.

I'm not completely sold on the coffins, or the immortality for that matter, then of course there's that whole being dead and having to kill to survive thing...but those are just details, haha.

So there you go. However-many minutes of your life that you will never get back, spent reading about my vampire obsession. It's a full moon out tonight. I hope you are all able to enjoy it.

Everyone needs their daily fix...

I love books. I love reading books, I love talking about books, looking for books, finding books, even reading books online with my handy-dandy little Sony E-Reader. I may be addicted to the written word. And, like any true addict, I need my daily fix. But for me, it's intellectualism. Unfortunately, when your job keeps you on the move and helping customers all day, it can be quite difficult to sneak in ample time with your precious treasure tome of knowledge (especially if said tome is a large hardcover edition because you were too impatient to wait for the paperback...ahem...).

Therefore, we intellect addicts are forced to turn to our fellow man (and woman) for our fix of brilliant and stirring--or at least tolerable and coherent--conversation. I have found, however, that in my line of work, this presents something of a challenge. Mainly because the majority of my interaction with people is limited to customers who ask questions like "Is that a two-headed snake?" to which I am inclined to respond "No. Just two snakes in the same cage." Or "Yes; your tomato plants will freeze if it gets below 32 degrees tonight."

A friend of mine--and fellow shameless bookworm--is currently studying abroad in the Czech Republic, and he recently sent me a link to an INGENIOUS idea from Germany. It seems a German publisher named Hamburger Automatenverlag is restocking old cigarette vending machines surrounding the University of Hamburg with books. Let's ignore the obvious pun that someone named "Hamburger" is working with vending machines and no junk food is involved, and focus on the main cause: Books! Not highly-carbonated drinks, not cholesterol-and-calorie-soaked junk food, not even nicotine is being vended from these machines. Literature! Glorious literature from the press of a button!

Can you imagine how much better off America would be with these things?! Not only would Americans be less overweight, but as a culture we would be more well-read, more intellectual, capable of carrying on a conversation about something other than the weather, and just think of the vast improvements in spelling and grammar! :D

Goodbye Ding-Dongs, hello Dickens! Hell, I'd even take Stephenie Meyer at this point!*

*Disclaimer: I reserve the right to endlessly mock the Twilight Series as well as any and all readers thereof...because I have all four books hidden in the far bottom corner of my bookshelf...

Unfortunately, I highly doubt these wonderfully advanced book-vending machines will breach our shores in my lifetime. But perhaps my children's children will be able to choose a copy of Wuthering Heights during their break at work instead of a bag of Cheetos or a pack of USA Gold lights.

The "Why" Chromosome

I've never really been much for science. In truth, the only part of high school biology I actually paid attention to was the chapter on genetics, and that was only so I could figure out where my blue eyes and curly hair came from.

One of the few facts I have been able to retain, however, is the difference in chromosomes between men and women. I still couldn't tell you off-hand how many chromosomes are in the average human body (by the way, minus any mutations or genetic disorders, we have 23 pairs of chromosomes, which is 46 total. And yes, I had to look it up), but I can tell you that we women come equipped with double X chromosomes, while the men boast one X and one Y.

But really, how much of a boast are we talking? Sure, their Y gives them the ability to pee standing up and open that impossible jar of pickles, but our XX does outfit us with our fair share of shapely attributes, not to mention the ability to actually give life...in addition, of course, to those mind-numbing cramps, awkward (and incredibly personal) yearly doctor appointments, and the occasional emotional outburst... What was my point again?

Ok, so maybe there is a little something (no pun intended) to the whole penis-envy theory. But honestly, I'm not so sure it's really the hardware we women envy as much as the software (or perhaps lack there of). While I can't speak for all of my fellow females, I know that I certainly envy men the ability to keep their emotions in check. Maybe that little Y acts like a emotional barricade. While our feelings flood the XX gates, their Y stands strong against the tides like the little sand bag that could, keeping everything at a safe distance. Maybe that's it. When we're getting angry at them for not expressing their feelings, perhaps it's not actually their fault. I can see it now: one very angry Y holds Love and Vulnerability hostage, cocked pistols aimed at both their heads (this would be a great place for a little cartoon drawing). However, I'm not sure that argument would hold up too well in real life:

Girl: Joe, I tell you I love you all the time; why don't you ever say it back?
Boy: I want to, Molly, I really do, but my Y chromosome just won't let me!

Yeah. Right.

As a young single woman who grew up all but inseparable from her little brother and closest guy friend (and has since had her fair share of relationships with men), let me just say that I am no closer to understanding these Y carriers now than I was in the fifth grade when I was getting erasers thrown at me by my crush. In fact, I find myself, as I'm sure many women do, always coming back to the same basic question: Why?
Why would he say those things?
Why didn't he call?
Why won't he take the hint?
Why would he act that way?
Why won't he just get lost?
Why would he treat me like that?
Why why why???

Therefore, I have been thinking lately that perhaps this mysterious chromosome should be more aptly named the "why" chromosome.

While this idea had occurred to me some time ago (and no, I am not naive enough to believe I am the first to ever think of it), it wasn't until I suggested it to my mother today via text message - "I would like to officially rename the Y chromosome the Why chromosome. As in why are you such an ass?" *Disclaimer: this was directed temporarily at a man I work with; I do not believe all men to be asses. Most of the time - and received her enthusiastic agreement that I decided it may be a topic worth exploring. Maybe the name change would even help to silence some of our endless questions about men (and men, even you have to love that!); why try to understand them when even science can't give a clear explanation? Haha

If you think about it, the letter "Y" itself is rather confusing in real life (I mean really, are you a vowel or a consonant? Pick a side already! You are the alphabetic Switzerland!). Is it really such a shock that humans who carry this letter as part of their genetic makeup would be any less so? If the letter Y can't make up its mind as to what it is or wants to be, should men really be expected to act any differently? It's in their genes. Literally. (-Ahem- note that I did say "genes", not "jeans". Just wanted to clarify that).

So maybe I'm not ready to present my case to any of the higher-ups in the scientific field, and I'm sure I will never be credited with finally "figuring out" men. But for now, perhaps this simple thought process can serve as one small step for women, one giant leap for befuddled XX's everywhere.

Every Academy Award Winning Movie Ever

Let me start off by saying that I LOVE movies. I'm one of those die-hard movie fans who will go to the theater by myself, buy the DVD the day it comes out, and watch it repeatedly for about a week. Yeah, I love them that much.

Needless to say, the Academy Awards are pretty much my Super Bowl. That being said, I imagine we could all agree that most Academy Award winning movies carry with them a degree of predictability and--let's face it--often down-right corniness. But how can you love movies and not have a sense of humor about them? So, in the spirit of Oscar himself, I present to you, my movie-loving (and even my movie-hating) peers, the following video for your entertainment pleasure.

My personal nomination for Best Picture, I give you "A Trailer for Every Academy Award Winning Movie Ever."

A Trailer for Every Academy Award Winning Movie Ever -- powered by Cracked.com

PS - For some reason, I couldn't get the video to fit correctly on this screen, so if you click here or on the link just below the video, you can see it at on the original website in its full grandeur.

Surprised Kitty - Something to make you smile

Let's face it, sometimes you just get really STRESSED OUT! It's amazing how much a little smile and maybe even an unexpected laugh can help a bad day get just a little bit better.

This video has become my go-to, sure-to-make-you-smile video. So, why keep something so good to yourself? I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.