theme nights.

one thing that i have been up to lately is our themed outings.

 weird, yes.

 fun? abso.lutely.

 it really all started on my birthday- april 18th.

 It was a saturday- and rudy and i decided to go out to santa cruz for some r and r… which basically means getting drunk and people watching at one of the many outdoor restauraunts. We invited a few of our friends, and the ball really started rolling as the sun went down.

 However, All of us were not prepared for the chill of the evening. Rather than shelling out bank and look like tourists, we went to the Goodwill on Pacific to find some threads to keep us warm without looking too lame.

 We took quite a while. We’d pick out things others would like, but we kept remarking how dumb each of us looked. Someone (it could have been me, i don’t entirely recall) brought up the idea of wearing the ugliest sweaters we could find. All of us carrying a good buzz, agreed it was a great idea. Not only would it inject a sense of silliness into our outing, it gave us free-reign to act any way we wanted- we already aren’t going to impress anyone with our style…. might as well go full bore and make complete idiots of ourselves.

 So- Rudy picked out some woman’s sweater with black and white stripes and some terrible wool vest. Our pal Edgar selected some Cosby-looking monstrosity. Bill (not YOU Will, but you know that) went with some 80’s looking faux-collared wool knit mess, and I found the perfect sweater- looked like an old lady’s out-on-the-town sweater, resplendent in angora and sequins. We left the tags on for the finishing touch and had the best night on the town I think I ever had.

 We’ve been doing it every other weekend. We’ve done Solid Colors night -it was going to be all-white night but I was going to wear all white… uhm, NEVER, so I went with Lime Green and looked like a glow stick, and Hillbilly night- which was last weekend.

 We’ve been pretty fair lately with who gets to pick… so all that’s left is Bill and I. I’ve been mulling a few ideas.

 I could go easy and just pick Hawaiian Shirts.

 Or I could go mondo-geek super-hard and make every friend I know hate me… and force us all to dress as Star Trek.

 

muwahaha.

holiday crapshoot.

Sometimes i like christmas. last christmas was awesome. my first year of the advent calendar at X-E. I bought my first batch of christmas decorations and really felt like an adult when I bought presents for my BIL’S kids. I cooked, I cleaned, I made tamales and took fucking CHARGE last christmas.

But this year… christmas hasn’t even started and I already feel royally shafted.

 I mean… I know this sounds like whining and I’m really sorry for it.

But I feel as if the effort I put into the holiday ( which has been so much more the past couple of years) is just royally shat on, on a regular basis by a variety of people who barely know me.

I have always had a weird, uncomfortable dislike for Christmas. I feel and see the phoniness for good cheer and happy holidays, and it hurts me to think that some people just play nice to get the crap they want and the go back to being stinking jerks the other 12 months of the year.

I try to be a good person, I do.

I really FUCKIGN do.

But so often, my desire to be a good person is so regularly taken advantage of that I’ve become a pessimist. I really believe that the glass is half empty, that we are born evil and that greed rules all. I want things to be simple and easy- simple and easy is NICE. Complications and drama is evil and I can’t handle complications and drama and greed.

Yeah. Drama. Maybe that’s what this all comes down to. I hate drama. I hate watching TV and the News and don’t have many friends- just to keep the drama out of my life.

Is that shutting msyelf off? yes.

But it also keeps me sane, I tell you what.

Christmas means Family, and Family means Drama. I have learned that. It took a while becuase my Family isn’t the drama-seeking kind and we have always avoided drama. Our holidays, while poor and not in the least bit decadent, were always full of the cheer for a drama-free Christmas and peppered with heartfelt sentiments.

But the past few years, I have learned that my family is apparently a WEIRD family. Not wired like other families, we are soft-spoken, meek and unassuming. We think that our best is good enough.

But in teh grown-up angle that I have now seated myself in- The Holidays are  full of stress and drama and outright rudeness and smug decadence and hostility. I have never been so obscenely perturbed as I have been on Christmas eve as I decorate cookies for people who won’t even so much as remark at the artwork upon  them or even wish each other a merry christmas- they’re just here for the goods.

I am dreading the Holidays. I love my family, and I know that them coming to my home is a major feat for them. And I appreciate that- just seeing them here will make me a happy bunny.

But knowing that there will be others here- less grateful people with chips on their shoulders and hate in their hearts- they will snub my simple family, devour greedily goods that are meant to be shared- defile my home rich with love and tidings and leave it drained and devoid of cheer.

And what do you do to combat that?

Nothing.

I’m going to have to reserve a bit of love and cheer for myself this year- it will be a painful holiday this time around.

It is sad that I have to Harden my Heart for Christmas.

Five Star Nights.

Rudy, Checo and Paul enjoying a Five Star Night Jam.

I like videogames.

A lot.

I don’t get to play them as much as I would like, but if there’s a good game I can get sucked in pretty well.

Which makes things like sleeping and eating and personal hygiene kind of fall by the wayside from time to time.

 Not so much anymore since, well you know, an adult has shit to do like work and pay bills so I don’t play as much.

Which means yes! I do get to sleep and eat and bathe on a regular basis.

But that’s kind of beside the point.

There is a game I have now, called Rock Band.

Maybe you’ve heard of it.

That’s when people get all these plastic toys that LOOK like instruments, and

pretend to play music they have only heard once or twice in their lives with the assistance of a television. It’s like a Karaoke machine mated with DDR and gave birth to a misshapen guitar baby.

Anyway, I play this game at least once a week, usually for about two hours- even though I’ve owned it for almost a year now. It’s lots of fun, celebrates one of my favorite things- and it’s got lots of options. You can customize a character, and download a whole slew of songs from XboX Live.

For some of you, it sounds pretty dodgy- it’s a game- a dorky KIDS game that’s boring and goofy and no fun. But you-and I, and hell, well everyone- knows that anything can be made more fun with the addition of BOOZE.

Snakes and Ladders becomes a blast when you have to take a shot of Jager every time someone hits a Ladder.

And never mind Jenga- that game just gets harder as you keep drinking.

And Candyland is reserved for only the most blasted of individuals…

So, Rudy and I- as we always enjoy finding a new way to consume alcohol- devised a drinking game around our Rock Band fascination. It’s a very simple game, with a simple name.

Five Star Nights.

Technically it’s called Five Star and we just add Night to the end because that’s usually when we play. We’ll say “Wanna do a Five Star Night?” and that usually means- we’re going to play Rock Band and get lit like a candle.

So- here’s the way it goes.

You pick a song and your difficulty- If you want to get lit, go with easy songs and easy difficulty. If you want a challenge, up the ante.  And play your song. Try as hard as you can to be a good performer! At the end of the song, it tells you how well you did, individually and as a band. The Band rating gets STARS, and Five Stars is the cream of the crop-the best you can do. If you get FIVE STARS- everyone in your band takes a shot! Yaay!

If it turns out you DON’T get five stars, fear not! There’s still another chance. The individual performers are rated on a percentage. If you DON’T get Five Stars, but someone in the band scores OVER 95% , then THAT BAND MEMBER has to take a shot ALONE! We made this rule as a stipulation when playing with people who aren’t good or too drunk to play.

Then, if you feel so inclined, switch up instruments- we have two vocalists so we switch them between bass and vocals every other song- or you can just pick a slightly harder song.

The Choice of booze is also very important in a Five Star Night. If you’re an efficient band you can get about 5 songs in an hour. If you’re a GOOD band, you can get that many shots in an hour. So… you need to be sure that everyone will drink the booze you’re shooting, and that it’s not too potent. A liqueur is perfect for this. We usually go with something between 20 and 30 proof- Jager is PERFECT. You can supplement your shots with a regular drink- beer or what have you.

 

So- yes.

That’s what I did last night.

 

 

 

I gots the Cootie!

Hallo from way-away Land!

I have been sooo busy and I’m not going to apologize. I will admit that I miss blogging, but blogging does not pay me and my job does… so guess what I’m picking to spend my time on, especially with ten people living im my goddamn house?!

Damn straight I’m working my tooshy off, ’cause I need my dose of Rice Krispies treats and when you have that many people in your house, Rice Krispie Treats do not last long. So you either buy tons or you hide and hoard like fuckin’ chippiemunks. And Unfortunatley- Hoarding does NOT work for the Kellimonster becuase this particular Kellimonster forgets where she hides things- might as well just leave them out ’cause someone else will find and eat them ALL.

sob.

I smell like a dog treat. Probably cause I still have one in my pocket.

ANYWAY!

I came to talk about something that Isn’t Rice Krispie Treats. Why? Yo no se.

Wait. yeah.

Okay. So you all have been seeing that I’ve been bitching a bit about having way too many people in our house. It’s a looooong drawn-out crappy situation that we had no choice in and maybe later i’ll discuss it, but right now! No.

But Anyway.

It started about a month ago, when my boyfriend’s brother lost his job. Since he was living from paycheck to paycheck, he could not afford to stay in his home and had to bail before the next month was due. So… I imagine you can guess where he went.
he brought his family of three and his girlfriend.
He also brought his Cat, Cootie!

He brought Cootie mostly becuase he knows how much I love this cat. And when I say love, I mean… like this Cat is totally fucking awesome. He loves people and being petted and he’s so sweet and impressionable! I’m sure if I didn’t express interest in taking in Cootie, he would have left him behind. And I would have given him hell for it.

Cootie has not been well taken-care-of.
He’s not neutered, and was an indoor cat until he started urinating everywhere (has something to do with not being neutered and not having access to a clean litter box, huh?) and was regualrly abused. Regularly abused being thrown around by the scruff of his neck and being locked in closets, bedrooms and garages for days on end. He was also not regularly fed and has probably never had shots.

But sicne coming to my place- he’s gained two pounds in 4 weeks.
He’s insanely friendly- loves being pet and groomed, and has stopped peeing everywhere!
He’s best pals with Racecar (in fact, Cootie was gotten by my BIL becuase his daughters loved Racecar so much!) and they’re around the same age.
Dahlia hated him at first but she’s getting over herself and is taking it in stride. Dahlia is even starting to become much nicer since Cootie showed up- she doesn’t mind being petted and begs for attention!

Cash likes Cootie, but Cootie does NOT like Cash. Bummer. But Oh well.

I want Cootie to be fixed and get his shots. But since he’s not my Cat… I kind of can’t. Even if I asked if I could fix Cootie, my BF would flip becuase he doesn’t want to pay for vet bills for a cat that isn’t really ours!

I honestly know that when they move again ( if, at this point… ) Cootie will not follow. The BIL and his girlfriend are actually allergic to cats and Cootie is a drooling, shedding machine. Like I said before, if I wasn’t offering my place to stash him- they would have left him behind.

After some debating though, I got the BF to allow me to neuter Cootie. He’s gonna go in about a month or so. Good- ’cause this kitty deserves some love.

cam-peenk.

wao. madness!

Sorry I couldn’t post when I got back.

I got back Sunday night, recuperated all Monday and had to hop on the crazy-mad project that is recreating ALL the product images for all the items we carry at RMCD… That’s a LOT of images. We’re probably nearing 5000 products. Battening of the Hatches ensued.

Anyway.

I have some images. And some things to remember when you camp.

As dutifully shown here- do NOT take pictures of people AS SOON AS THEY LEAVE THEIR TENT… especially before they have had their morning caffeine. ESPECIALLY when camping. That picture could have been way nicer if I was given a few minutes… but I look like I just rolled off a park bench. I don’t even think I have a bra on there.  Thanks Dad.

When someone offers you sunblock, put it on. Don’t think it will make a clever picture, becuase while it will, it also means you may very well be getting burnt. Which I did. Which I am paying for. Bright Sun+ fair irish skin= sunburn followed by extensive peeling. yuck.

Since there is no TV, bring stuff to do. otherwise you’ll be trying to make fire With your bare hands ( we tried) feeding stray rodents ( we did, at risk of THE PLAGUE!) and generally annoying the crap out of your campmates. Here we can see the tools of our entertainment- booze, liars’ dice and cards. Everytime someone lost a game (we even played speed and crazy eights!) the loser had to shoot.

Also- bring shot glasses. There is a REASON bartenders aren’t allowed to drink on the job.

Bring a hammock. Your sore-from-sleeping-on-the-ground back will thank you for it. See- Doesn’t that just look fuckin’ AWESOME?!  Yeah. And beer. That ice chest is full of beer. he didn’t move for 2 hours.

Keep your food put away. Ice chests, trunks of cars, whatever. Little plague-carrying shits had NO shame. They stole food from MY DOG, while he was laying two feet from his bowl! Little shits. Couldn’t even wait for us to open the peanut bag- ripped a hole right in it. Fucking chipmunks. and Stellar’s Jays can kiss my ass too. Fucking foul-mouthed bastards waking me up like a damn alarm clock with all that screaming…

When you want your dad to stop talking to you about how he doesn’t want some n***** in office and all the Mexicans need to go home ( while Rudy stands slackjawed and laughing), put your head in a book and pretend you’re so involved in reading you CAN’T EVEN HEAR HIM. That shuts him up real fast. Crazy old man.

And go for a hike. Hide for a while. That’s why you came out here, isn’t it? Enjoy the silence.

I should probably mention…

…That I will not be here most of next week.

I am going camping.

FOR A WEEK! We’re going to the same Place I’ve been regulary camping for like… the past 10 years, just oustide of Yosemite in the Stanislaus National Forest, near Pinecrest. The place is just BEAUTIFUL.

*dances* I adore camping. It’s one of my most favorite things to do in the world. I love not having to travel to get to nature, and all the animals and just… BEING WHERE THE WILDERNESS IS AT… you know?

maybe you don’t.

But I’ve been camping nearly every summer since I was about 5. At first with my parents, and once I turned 18, with Rudy. This will be Rudy’s longest camping trip EVER, and he’s out-of-his-gourd-crazy excited. Cash’s longest trip too. I hope he can hang,  i think he will.

We’re going with my family, so there will be low drama and low excitement. Low-Key camping. Just the way I like… well, everything. I hate drama.

Anyway. I’ll be sure to take pictures, and try to keep a small record of what I did. I know Rudy wants to catch a Rabbit or a snake or something edible using the survival technique book he got and then eat it. I say- Okay dood, don’t hurt yourself. I’m more interested in edible plants and will probably entertain myself in that realm, as well as lots of river and lake-play and a steady amount of traipsing through the woods with the Dog.

I have another blog post in the works, writing it in pieces. I’ll try and post it before I go so you guys have a week to wrap yer melons around it.

I killed a tree.

I thought about being sly and coming up with some clever title, but this was just so insane that i just won’t beat around the bush- er, tree.

So yeah.

I killed a tree.

I didn’t do it alone.

But yes.

In one day, a small army of 8 overweight and bored young adults massacarred a 30 foot maple tree.

And tore up the cement that was being lifted by said tree’s roots.

And repaired the water line that said tree was destroying in its ungainly destruction in a forced fit of suburban survival.

When I go home, there will be nothing left but a hole.

So- to start- the only image I could find of the tree.  Apparently Google came down my cul-de-sac. And saw fit to take a picture of the tree! Ha!

This pic must have been taken in the fall because that Basketball hoop isn’t there anymore and hasn’t been for some time. And well, the tree looks pathetic.

Anyway!

The reason we had to kill the tree-  The Tree was slowly destroying our Main Water line. The tree was bending and snapping the line from the street, causing major leakage out of the meter box and screwing with the water pressure.  We tried to call our Homeowner’s Insurance, but sisnce it’s not “ON THE FOUNDATION” we were SOL (Shit out of Luck for the uninitiated).

So- we went to town,  taking out the tree, removing the cement that covered the water line and repairing the pipe. We started Saturday, by trying to do an easy-fix with some epoxy putty. Yeah- didn’t work.

So, we set out to take down the tree. I don’t have any awesome action shots, since I was so busy working. But I have this!

I missed taking pix when we had to use ropes to direct tree-fall.  Pete missed on a pull and a ten-foot length of trunk decimated our mailbox. *snickers*  The Mailman will be VERY confused.

We even got the kids in on it.

WELL! They asked to help. Next time they’ll learn.

Then, once the tree was down, we tore up the cement!

Yaay for jackhammers and their $15 an hour rentals!

Then we started to work on repairing the pipe. We had a sneaking suspicion that they had this issue before since the whole pipe was mickey-moused into place. We tore out the garbage work and replaced the offending bits.

So-we turned off the water at about 10 AM. We didn’t get it back on until 9 PM. Many runs to friends’ homes to shower and poop were made. It was not easy- especially since it was the middle of July and the temps EASILY reached into triple digits. We didn’t have a choice, and plugged through it.

The next day, after a hearty breakfast, we nade dump runs to dispose of the cement and the tree rubbish, and turned the trunks into great firewood. Rudy got to play with a chainsaw. Don’t think you can see it here, but he was grinning from ear to ear.

And this was all that was left when I left this morning. We paid for a guy to remove our stump- so when I get home, even this will be gone.

I’ll add that pic when I get home.

So- what did YOU guys do?!

dear dennis-

You know, when we were younger I thought you were weaker than I was.

I think it had to do with the fact that you were younger than me, and you did typical little-brother things… like whine about crap, refuse to listen, get everything you wanted with nary a fight. Mummy loved you- she babied you… that made me kind of jealous. I was expected to entertain myself.

But I’m wondering now, if you were only weaker because your were sensitive. You were the baby boy, mama’s boy. But you were dad’s whipping boy and Pat’s bane. Maybe- you failed in the things Society deems Important becuase it hurt too much to try and succeed against the barriers put up against you. It must have been very hard to be a blonde-haired, blue eyed, six-foot-tall white kid in the Ghetto. You were the physical embodiment of what our neighbors hated. And… well, they sure did take it out on you.

How many times did the black kids down the street beat you up? How many times did you get hit in the face and be told to suck it up? How many times did you try and talk, and no one would listen? I guess people  figure once you hit puberty you’re supposed to be a man, even if no one taught you what that was.

I’m beginning to understand why you didn’t finish school right away. I’m beginning to realize why you were so big into church.  If you don’t go to school, no one can hate you. People at church are supposed to like you- that’s God way.

And I think maybe that’s why you went into the Navy after September 11th. The Navy would teach you to be a man. the Navy would teach you to grow up, how to take care of yourself.

And it did. More than I imagined. When you came home you were still the same saying-shit-under-your-breath Deenie-weenie, but you were different. Hardened, stoic. Something in you changed. And in terms of Society, it’s been for the better.

But still I wonder. What happened to you? Are you the same person under there? You don’t let us know anymore.

You’ve got a shell now. Maybe that’s for the better.

As you go now, in the National Guard to fight the Fires in Big Sur, I realize you’ve grown up far more than I can fathom. Those four years in the Navy DID turn you into a man. Because you Chose to Go, you Chose to Grow up.

So- be careful. Okay? We’re going Camping in August and I want to see you there.

 

grrawgh!

I’m really fuckin’ bent out of shape at the moment- at things beyond my control.

 Well- they’re within control, but it’s hard to manage a situations when those that need managing refuse to heed good intentions and best-laid plans.

So USUALLY this is when I write a Music blog, but as I am listening to Iron Maiden, I can’t just very well write about them AGAIN. I mean, I could… but that could just bore everyone into disappearing.  let’s just avoid that from happening, okies?

So! Other than that Sitch-a-mation, I will try and think about other things.

Like the fact that I WENT CAMPING! It was a short trip, only a couple of days, and was local- Coyote Lake. I will have to say, it could have been a LOT WORSE than it was. More people were invited than two sites could accomodate, the person that booked the sites neglected to recognize that they were RV sites and we were tent-camping,  and had picked partial-shade sites… Partial Shade in TEN YEARS, as the trees in the area were just planted.  Not to mention a Lake that no one could swim in.

However, as stated, I had an okay time. The fact that I had this-

-Made it quite bearable. He was a really good boy- no squabbles, no problems! The first night with him in a tent was a struggle, ’cause he coudn’t find the perfect place to sleep, so he kept moving. But the next night- after a day of walks and running and swimming (as pictured here!) he was a tired little man and slept like a rock. I fussed over him and fed him and took care of him. He was simply amazing.

On the way back from Camping, I got a call from the Optometrist- my glasses were in.

I used my Surplus check to purchase a new pair of glasses since my precription had changed… my eyes are apparently getting worse. It’s pretty bad as is- I’m not legal to drive with out corrective lenses- but it is kind of scary that my eyes are still deteriorating. Nevertheless… I got some pretty neat frames- they are Converse frames with Starsa on the  stems, and I feel so sophisticated! lemme show you.

So, I’ll very well possibly be sporting my specs more often. The Camping trip with contacts was just a major pain- has always been. I do LOVE having contacts, though- so I’ll probably just be regularly swaping from glasses to lenses more often… neato-beeto.

And Lastly- the SUMMER MEGAPARTY has Begun! I’m really excited about Matty writing more- a whole two and a half months of DAILY pieces. Sooo cool! Today he wrote about Otter Pops! Yummie.

 However… WaiterBot showed up in a couple of the pictures.

Which means…

*gulp*

Box 23 is alive and afoot.

 Not COOL.

 I mean, it’s cool, but it’s just that…well, As interesting and brain-wracking Box 23 projects are, they scare me really bad too. I can’t explain why. Maybe it’s the way its presented- as sneaking around and deciphering thigs that are “meant” to be hidden. Like… it’s just better to leave it alone, than to dig too deep. It could just be me- If I start something like this- I get too deep-I get obsessed- and my brain goes to hell in a handbasket. I tell ya I was drawing Hssxlllo all over the place last Christmas… and last Easter considering there was a small amount of Box 23 action around then too.

Anyway…

This is hwta I have for now. I’ll hopefully have some more interesting writtings to entertain you with in the next blogie post, but for right now, I’m in crap up to mk knees and need to pull my waders up a little higher. than usual.

smell memories.

I remembered learning very early on that our sense of smell is the sense most connected to our memories.  I also picked up that we as a species, are slowly losing our sense of smell.  That made me very sad. It still does.

I find my sense of smell to be very valuable. Living with a smoker for a pop severely dulled my sense of smell for a large portion of my life. It wasn’t until I started spending a major amount of my time in College- on campus, working on projects outside of school, and a blossoming social life- did I discover the whole wide world of smells, and many of my strongest smell-activated memories come from that period of time.

I came up with the idea of this post at the Pub. Being a waitress means that I mostly run on autopilot- spewing rehearsed phrases and doing as told- that it leaves me a lot of time to just THINK. Which is damgerous for a serious professional daydreamer such as I. I was standing at the waitress station, thinking- about what I cannot recall, if it was pertinent to the story I’d have remembered-  and I smelled Jason.

Jason was one of my best friends in College. As I spent a majority of time with him-along with my new functional nose, I got to know his smell well. We spent a lot of lunches together, and I did some big side projects involving his friends’ production company. I also felt as if he held me in high esteem- that he valued my opinion, and that made me feel special in a time that I was very insecure. So smelling Jason brought back a sense of free-spirited warmth and comfort.

Now I didn’t specifically smell JASON at that moment, but the smell that Jason had about him- the smell of Irish Spring bar of soap and a hint of Head & Shoulders shampoo. It took me a few seconds to place it since I hadn’t smelled it so perfectly notable in it 4 years so so. I looked around- it was almost as if I expected Jason to just be sitting there, at the bar- enjoying a pint, to look at me and give a casual “What’s Up” and then flip me off like he always did as a greeting.

I found our new waitress standing only a few feet away from me, rolling napkins. I tried not to look too obvious, as I tried to smell her general area. It struck me as neat and yet, very odd. Our New Waitress smells just like Jason.

So that’s where this whole post comes from.

Sometimes I’ll get a whiff of a smell, and I’ll be transported to some memory from when my nose first really started working- and people would look at me funny and I’d have to explain that I just smelled Snake. Which makes no sense to ANYONE but me.

And maybe you, once I explain.

Coffee and Cigarette Breath always reminds me of Julian- the Lab Tech at the Animation Lab on Powell. Doesn’t matter who breathes it, it ALWAYS reminds me of Julian. We worked in close quarters often as he would critique animation frames and knew how to fix the cameras- he taught me how to fix them so he wouldn’t be harassed so much… which of course led to more coffee and smoke breaks.

Wet Rocks and Stale Water always reminds me of the Snake the Walkers had. The Walkers were a family whose eldest I dated in my sophmore year of High School. The snake lived in a gravelly tank with a pool at one end, in the youngest Walker’s bedroom, so his room always smelled like Snake, and was kind of weirdly moist. Whenever I smell that smell, I just instantly say “Snake” without thinking.  And someone will always go “What?” And I say “I smelled Snake.” And that’s usually just weird enough to have them leave me alone for quite some time.

Cotton Candy always makes me gag. For one, it reminds me of Hard Work. And two, when I smell it begin to burn I get the smell stuck in my throat- like I was the one working over the mahcine inhaling floss remnants and burning the sugar and watching it smoke… yak. My first job ever was working the Candy Floss Machine at the County Fair, and when I took the concession job during college, I was only one of two people who could work the damn machine- guess who would inhale the burning sugar during the busy season?! Me. Yep.

Pepsi and Cigarette Breath is my Dad. Yeah. My dad smells like Pepsi and Ciagrettes, Specifically Kool Menthols. I grew up with that smell. Which is probably why Pepsi makes me happy- reminds me of my daddy. Add in the sticky ciggy breath and that’s my dad-leaning over my shoulder as he watches me make HTML brackets for my first webpage, or telling me how he was a part of the Tonkin Gulf Yacht Club while a WWII Documentary blares on in the background while I nod and egg him on, knowing that if I keep him talking he won’t ask me to do the dishes.

The smell of Dirty Dog and Cigarettes-you notice a theme yet?- is my Friend Heather. She was my best friend in High school, but had some drug problems and never actually finished High School- that made me sad ’cause she was so smart and creative but Pot and Prozac took her away from me. She had a Dog named Shadow, and after Shadow passed, Mocha. Both were smelly indoor doggies that rarely got baths.There was also the smell of Cat that permeated the house, but not so much the living room as the Laundry room.

So, those are some.  Glad I could share another quirk with the world- the more the world knows About me, the Less weird I hope I become.