Which is why sometimes when I get a comment on this blog that's all, "OMG someone forgot their medication today! LOL!" or "Oh Becky, you so crazy!" I overreact and get all scary and defensive in my comments back:
Lately I feel like everything around me is dipped in Marlena's crazypaint. It's not just one thing; there's been a rash of crazy lately.
It's the guy who sat down next to me at my smog check and told me about his plans to cut off his penis so that he might transform himself into the sexiest woman in the world, into the "all that and a bag of chips sexy" kind of woman he sees in the Victoria's Secret catalog. He will be so sexy once he is penisless, he explained, that he will literally give himself a boner just by looking in the mirror. "Wow," I replied, fighting my instincts to point out the fatal flaw in his plan. "That IS sexy."
It's Old Man Farley, who has survived both a brain tumor and meningitis this year, but who has recently taken a turn for the crazy. He walks around and around in circles, stares at me from behind doors as if to say, "I left a pile of poop in the living room yesterday and now IT IS REMOVED! WHAT SAY YOU, VILLAIN!" and who gets so disoriented that sometimes he
just...
can't quite...
make it...
onto the bed.
He sure is a sleepy sonofagun!
Yesterday morning I went to wake him, and during the night his head had slipped down between the pillows of his bagel-shaped dog bed, hiding his entire head from view. Everything has seemed so crazy lately that this just seemed par for the course, so in my half-asleep state I just accepted it, sighed, shrugged, and said, "Well that's just great, now he's headless," and started making plans for caring for a headless dog.
I'll have to lead him everywhere, first of all, which is going to be a huge inconvenience, but whattya gonna do? I love the old guy. Secondly, how will his collar stay on if he's only got a neck and nothing else? I need a harness if I'm really going to make this work...
I didn't even photoshop this. His head is really under there somewhere.
It's the hopeful transsexual, and it's Old Man Farley, but it's also my neighbor with dementia, who escaped from her Russian home care worker recently to accuse me of stealing her car. It's understandable, though, why she thought her car had gone missing, because, in much the same way you might look frantically for your sunglasses when they're sitting on top of your head, you can't very well see a car when you're sitting in its back seat.
From the comfort of her luxury car, she pointed to my own car parked in my driveway, leaned up to her cracked window, and asked me why, when we have always been such amicable neighbors, had I stolen her new black Lexus and parked it in my own driveway, somehow magically transforming it into a '99 white Volvo station wagon in the process. I am a thief and a wizard.
Her: I don't mean to accuse you of stealing my car, but I see that car parked in your driveway and, you have to admit, it does look suspicious. Just put yourself in my shoes.
Me: Hmm. I see your point, Helen. But the interesting thing is, the car in my driveway is a white '99 Volvo. Your car, this beauty right here (admiring pat pat on the door), is a new black Lexus.
Her: I know that, but that doesn't change the facts, does it, Becky. *looks pointedly at my Volvo, then back at me* Does it.
I used my keen redirecting skills to compliment her hair and her weight and her cat's manners until her Russian home care worker realized she was missing and came out to retrieve her.
The next day, though, as I was pulling out of our cul-de-sac, I spotted her in her bathrobe trying to break into our other neighbor's house through his side door. "NOT IN THE MOOD FOR YOUR BULLSHIT TODAY, CRAZYPANTS!! GOOD LUCK WITH THAT THOUGH!" I called out softly, as I smiled, waved, and drove on past.
I should be better equipped to handle her, though, because my dad had dementia for years. For how long? Five years? Twenty? The transition from eccentric into demented is so seamless, it's hard to tell sometimes. There's no Cosmo quiz for this kind of thing.
Dementia or Eccentric? The Sassy Girls' Guide to Understanding Your Dad
1) When your refrigerator gets low on food, your dad:
a) goes to the market and buys more food.
b) steals your student credit card and orders $200 worth of Omaha steaks from an 800 number.
c) brings home a package of Pudding Pops, points the shakyfinger at you, points the shakyfinger at the Pops, and drags his index finger across his neck.
d) hides all the bananas, times are tough and you gotta do what you gotta do.
2) In his free time, your dad
a) golfs.
b) cleans assault rifles in the den.
c) steals your student credit card and orders the sold-only-on-tv music compilation set of "Freedom Rock", because your birthday's coming up.
d) calls you at your friend's house to tell you he found a pen. Because he remembers you were looking for a pen that one time last summer.
3) At Christmastime, your dad
a) goes shopping at a store and purchases a sweater, which he wraps in paper and gives to you.
b) steals your student credit card and orders a giant $85 ring made of blue zircon, because "I don't know shit about jewels, kid, but look at it, it's a monster, isn't it? Try it on!!"
c) gives you a canister of tear gas and mounts it on the wall next to your bed with Velcro, because "I'm pretty sure the old guy next door is [makes crazy cross-eyes, frenetic jerk-off motion, drooly pedophile smile] over you, kid. Watch out."
A couple of months ago, I showed up at my mom's house to find my half-brother trying to blow open one of dad's old safes. After a few hours, he succeeded, only to find...
...were two tubes of Chapstick.
"That's bullshit!" he cried. Then he proceeded to hammer the padlock off one of my dad's old trunks. This attempt was slightly more profitable.
And buried in the corner of the trunk full of quarters and dimes was a single black sock.
I know. Boner city, right?
Ah, hello, old coinsock. I remember you.
Me: I just need five dollars for a movie.
Dad: (counts out dimes and quarters)
Me: Paper dollars? Please?
Dad: Paper's over with, kid. When it all goes to shit we'll be warming our hands over money fires. It's all about metals. Everything else is bullshit.
Me: Why don't I spend the paper dollars now then? Use them up while they're still worth something?
Dad: Because here's why. (dumps coins into a long black dress sock) You're a young girl, out at a movie with her friends, right? And there's all sorts of dirty old creeps out there, following you and your friends around and doin' all sorts of... (crazy crosseyes, frenetic jerk-off motion, drooly pedophile smile*)... you read me?
Me: A bunch of old guys following us around and... what does that gesture even mean... stabbing themselves in the penis? That's crazy! We're just gonna go see Goonies down the street. Okay?
Dad: You'll go see your Goolies when I finish with you. Are you listening? So you get into trouble with one of these guys, and you take this sock full of change and you hold it by the end and spin it around your head, fast. It's popcorn money, yes. It's also a deadly weapon.
Me: (Sigh.) Thanks, dad.
Dad: Bring me change!
*Side note: My dad, in a flattering display of fatherly protectiveness, had it in his head that every old guy in the world was jerking it to the thought of me, like I was some kind of hot tamale on the pedophile circuit. If you knew me back then, we'd be laughing right now, because as you would already know, I was not what one would call a great beauty. Unfortunately for me, since you didn't know me then, I have no choice but to show you my 6th grade class photo.
I know. Boner city, right?
Anyhow.
Hopeful Transsexual, and Old Man Farley, and Dementia Helen bringing back those memories of my dad... All of it has me a little on edge. I like order and logic and I prefer everyone to say and do things that make sense. When things stop making sense, I'm hyperaware and begin to interpret the most subtle of clues to mean that I'm losing my mind.
Sometimes this causes me to jump to bizarre and illogical conclusions. Like, at breakfast:
Waitress: Want another pancake?
Me: Uh, I'm sorry, did you just say...Guatemala handshake? Did I mishear you or something? Because that doesn't even make sense! Oh. Oh, I see. I see what's going on here. I'm hearing things? I'm insane, is that it? It's finally happened? Fine! I'm fine with it! Ha! AHAHAHA! Look at you all, just looking at me, like a bunch of looker people, pointing your eyes at me! I'm craaaazzzyy, right? Well, boogadee-boo! You know what? I got your Guatemala handshake right here, fuckers!! *flips everyone the double bird*
Or at my mom's house...
Me: Hi mom.
Mom: (reading something online)
Me: Hi mom. Hi mom. Hi. Hi. Mom? Hi mom! Hi! Mom? I said hi. Hi. Hi. Hi.
Mom: (closes the laptop, starts to get up)
Me: Mom? Mom! Can you hear me? Hi! HI!! HI!! HI MOM! MOM! HELLO! HELLO MOM! MOM CAN YOU HEAR ME! CAN YOU HEAR ME! MOM! OH MY GOD I'M A GHOST! I'M A FUCKING GHOST! *slapping myself in the face* NO! GOD, NO! SOMEBODY PLEASE SAY SOMETHING!! I'M RIGHT HERE! LOOK! I'M STILL WITH YOU! *sweeps mug of coffee off table* I'LL NEVER GO INTO THE LIGHT! *tries repeatedly to spirit-pass through the wall* HOLY SHIT, I'M A SOLID GHOST? WAIT...WAS I EVER REALLY ALIVE!!?
Mom: Oh for cryin' out loud, will you calm down? I was just finishing this article.
Me: Oh. Okay. Heh. Sorry about your coffee mug. Why don't I... I'll brew another pot, yes? *whistling*
I know I'm asking for it with this post. Of course someone's going to comment and jokingly tell me I'm crazy, and I'll laugh hahaha and it'll be alright because you kinda know me and I kinda know you, and I know that you know I'm not really crazy, right? Haha. Right?
Right?
90 comments:
Not crazy. Wonderful.
Captain Howdy!
If you're insane I don't want to be sane.
Not that I'm co-dependent or anything.
I'm afraid of construction cranes.
You aren't insane. You are normal.
Hey, you're perfectly fine. It takes all kinds to make the world an interesting place.
This entry made me snort cold water up my nose and also feel bad for doing so.
It's not you who's crazy. It's everybody else. You are a totally sane ghost on your way to the Coinstar machine with sock full of change.
Nope, you sound like the sanest person I know.
I'll meet you in the padded room..... P.S. Where ELSE would you keep your chapstick? Geesh. AND I'm going with Pudding Pops for the one question. Did I win?
AND it really does kind of look like you stole her car. I'm siding with her.
Oh, perhaps mildly eccentric... but aren't we all? Mostly though, you're pretty darn funny. And fun.
And Old Man Farley looks exactly like my ex-dog (ex in the sense that he died a bunch of years ago) Max, who used to do very similar things. I learned over the years that "Sheltie" was synonymous with "crazy." The upside was that he made the cats look sane.
RIGHT.
It *would* kind of suck to be a solid ghost...I understand why you freaked!
If you were to go crazy, I'd let you think my '06 Nissan Quest MINIVAN (yeah, you want one) is a Kia Soul, tricked out with those floatie lights underneath and some of that bad bouncy action.
Also, if you were to go crazy, don't do anything kooky to your fingers. I want you to keep blogging.
Some good tips here for protecting my daughter. Plus I should get her a haircut.
If you look slightly to the left of the tree, you'll see an apple. right. next to it.
Also, I'm the one who stole and repainted the Lexus.
*throws smoke bomb and runs away
I don't know about you, Becks... but for my money a coin sock in hand is worth two on the foot. (*slide whistle. cartwheel. punches self in the nuts*)
Oh, you're crazy, alright ... like a FOX! (And the whole "fox" thing works especially well here, because that 6th grade picture? ROWR. That's all I'm sayin'.)
I know it's not really funny, but that picture of your dog with no head made me laugh out loud. The one upside to a dog with no head is that I guess you no longer have to feed it. That'll save you a ton of money right there. Also, since he no longer eats I'm guessin' he'll no longer poop, so there's that.
As a child of dementia (grandmother, father) and doomed genetically, I am embracing the change. I plan to use your neighbor's car shtik on my wife tomorrow. And I'm guessing the child porn police will be making you take that sixth grade picture of yourself down as soon as they find you...
I just spent four solid days with my mother in law. She talks constantly. Also, she suffered a major head injury a few years ago. So now instead of just talking all the time, she repeats herself ad nauseum. Then when I squish my eyebrows and say, "Didn't we cover this already?" she's all, "What is wrong with you? I thought you were supposed to be over chemo brain by now."
I really want an elfa organizing system for my brain.
Love the post! I love the pics of your dog too they are hilarious! :)
I know how you feel. I saw something that no one else saw a few weeks ago and after watching my ex-husband succumb to paranoid schizophrenia, I keep saying to myself, "Ah, so this is how it begins.
I haven't even wanted to write about it because I really don't want people saying "OMG! So crazy!" in the comments section either.
But maybe if I make it funny enough they won't notice? I think that's what you've successfully done here. Bury it in enough funny and the people won't notice!
Success!
I'm not going to call you crazy.
Mostly because I'm too scared to.
Just kidding!! (You don't know where I live, do you???)
Awesome post and you are totally right.
right...
*goes back to jerking to 6th grade school photo*
Albert Einstein defined insanity as something something something and expecting something something something I don't really remember what he said but it doesn't matter because he was fucking crazy.
I like monkey lemons.
That face you're making in your sixth grade photo? Looks like my mom's face when I told her I wasn't a Republican.
Don't freak wee thing, I used to work in a 5150 ward in Palm Springs and a geezer ranch (long term care facility,) and dementia has more causes than you are probably aware of. Sorry about ending that sentence with a preposition, stop judging me. My father developed dementia at the end as did his father but there is strong evidence to show that it manifested as a side issue of atherosclerosis. Think of it like your car showing rust spots, its not that the metal is defective, the paint just needs some work. Don't cry before you're cut sweet girl, you're just way more brilliant than the rest of us and it sounds like your living in the middle of crazy street.
Your sixth grade photo looks exactly like my sixth grade photo, except my hair was a bit longer and I hadn't quite dealt with the drooling problem yet. Sad times, those were.
Headless dogs don't bark and can't make you feel bad after a scolding by giving you the "sad puppy eyes". So, it's all good.
Also, you are not crazy. Your ability to think outside of the box only makes you more interesting. Purple Monkey Dishwasher.
Wow1 I hope you returned your neighbor's car. That really was unkind of you to steal and paint it.
Wow, you really are crazy.
I'm only saying you're crazy so you won't feel crazy for incorrectly predicting someone would say you're crazy, because that would mean you're crazy for thinking we're all sitting here thinking you're crazy but not actually saying it. I'm helping?
I would have loved to meet your dad and your cray cray russian neighbor.
Your half brother totally missed that sweet-assed C clip in the safe, so BooYa! More loot for you!
Thank you for the check marks on the photo of Farley, they helped me understand the lack of head much better.
Your sixth grade photo is so much more awesome than mine because my mom made me a leopard skin vest. Do you know how long a sixth grader lasts wearing a leopard skin vest? 3.7 seconds.
You are awesome. Amazingly awesome.
I would love to give you a Guatemala handshake.
Crazy is relative, anyway. Or is it 'relatives'? That would make a lot more sense, I suppose. My family is f*cking insane.
I'm so glad you took a pic of headless Farls. Is that like the headless horseman? Anyway, I can't remember what I had for dinner last night, let alone where I parked my car or who stole it (I know it was you). Or maybe I'm just blocking out the 2 pieces of cake I ate.... It is debatable. Of course now I forgot my point.
Sane vs. Crazy- It's a very fine line between the two, you manage to walk smack dab down the middle of it.
abevy: *blush*
Jon: Correct, sir!
SQT: Aw, that's very sweet. If I have to be crazy, at least it won't be crazy and alone.
Cul-de-sac-ed: They look like evil robots! With their giant dangling beams and shit. Leave Earth immediately, iron giants!!
Israel: Thank you!
Lara: Ouch. Did you dip your nose into a glass of water, or was it unintentional?
Beta Dad: My siblings and I are all eyeing that trunk, one of us is gonna grab it and make a run for Coinstar, but nobody wants to be the asshole.
Heather: Why thank you! I agree.
Jules: Chapstick will be a rare commodity during nuclear fallout. When everyone else's face's are burning off, I'm gonna have the most supple lips in town. My dad was no fool.
Kelly: He wasn't really crazy until he got a brain tumor and meningitis earlier this year, actually. Well, wait, he was kind of "jump over walls" crazy before, and now he's "walk into walls" crazy.
Lee: *crosses Lee off Kill List*
Peggy: Hi!! That would be the worst thing ever, none of the ghost perks and all of the ghost crap. The only worse thing I can think of is to be a solid ghost on Solid Gold, because nobody could appreciate your sweet moves.
If you're crazy then I am right there with ya sister! We are not alone :P Right? You bet your sweet bippy I'm right!
Remember about 18 years ago how Marlena got possessed by the devil? Things could always be worse, is what I'm saying.
p.s. I bet you could get a whole sock full of dimes on ebay for those two tubes of chapstick from the 80's.
Becky, I really like you. I do. (*crazy crosseyes, frenetic jerk-off motion, drooly pedophile smile*) I'm not just saying that either, okay?
Ah, the memories! We had to finally grow up and start acknowledging grandpa as an Alzheimer's victim and not just a "fun dude" after he starting pouring Herbal Essences into his fruit smoothies. *sigh*
Well there's crazy, and then there's creative. The two usually intersect in varying degrees.
I have a Venn diagram here somewhere...
Pearl
Nicole: I'm pretty sure if I go crazy, I'll be riding my roller skates everywhere going VROOM!VROOM! and yelling SCREEEECCHH!! around corners. Wait. I meant I'll STILL be riding my rollerskates around everywhere making vroom vroom noises.
Maelstrom: Do you own a Flowbee? It's like birth control for first kisses.
Moooooog: I read that and was like, "What tree? WHAT TREE I DON'T SEE A TREE OH MY GOD!" So thanks for the panic attack.
Kurt: And two coin socks on the feet are worth four in your nightstand drawer. Seriously, they're so silky smooth and they're shaped like a vagina and you're NOT supposed to give them names like Vivian and Monica and make sweet love to them in those lonely early morning hours? Cmon.
Daddy S: Totally RAWR. I look like a rejected cast member of Fat Albert.
Madame Q: That picture makes me crack up. When I pulled his head out from there, his face was all rumpled and his eyeball was rolled around, I had to massage his face back to life.
michael: I'm doomed too. And they'll never find me! Unless they email me and ask where I live, and then I will tell them because I'm easily intimidated.
Elly: Oh, "Didn't we cover this already?" is such a cute, patient thing to say. When my aunt came out to visit and started repeating herself, we just sent her back home on a plane. Nobody bores us and gets away with it!
Well if you are crazy I would pretty much have like...a fundraiser to keep you that way because your crazy ass is like a portal to a whole world of awesome. Only a gigantic, omnipotent talented intelligence (kinda like Orson from "mork and mindy") could take a totally depressing subject and make it snortworthy. So if you're crazy who the hell wants to be sane?
Does that answer your question? Was there a question?
PS I'm kind of loving your dad.
PPS Not in a dirty way
Hilarious. But one question, Judging by the tone of the blog, the Omaha Steak answer was NOT correct? Shit. I gotta rethink my life...
Hey, was that Marlena storyline the one where she was possessed by an evil demon who made her walk the streets wielding a sock full of change, accompanied by a headless dog, accusing innocent bystanders of stealing her car and raving wildly about "cracking the code" to the Chapstick?
Man, those were the Days of Our Lives.
There's only one thing to do to handle this Helen situation: bake her a cream pie, too.
What SQT said, really.
But I think you're right. People seem to be going nuts at an alarming fucking rate these days.
So where's the answer key to the dad quiz? Inquiring minds want to know. Just curious. It's totally not because my dad does any of that stuff. *whistles*
I've always wondered why blondes get credit for being more fun. It's the crazy people that are the most fun. Double whammy for you!
You are batsh*t.
On a related note, I'm in love with you and you are hilarious.
I'm pretty sure my husband will take this well, yes?
Recently found your blog...forgot how -- providence obviously. Have been gorging myself on your past posts and sending your url to those I think will appreciate it. If you're crazy, then so am I, just not as creatively awesome. Did someone really steal your student credit card, or did u make those purchases and say that someone stole your card?
The response to the "Want another pancake?" question seems like something I would imagine since I am slowly turning into my Dad and can't hear very well anymore. See? Not crazy, just deaf. You can use that excuse too, if you want. I'm just sayin'.
Funny...my Dad does in fact clean assault rifles in the den in his spare time. His best piece of advice: "You don't need to be out past midnight because they only people out past midnight are cops and mouth breathers." This was said, unfortunately, sans frantic jerk-off motion.
Kimber: Thanks! Yeaaahh I spend a lot of time taking pictures of my dogs.
Mandy: Yes, exactly, no you do it! What was it, a UFO? I bet it totally was. As I was reading your comment, weirdly enough, I thought I saw a rat (we have rats) walking along the top of a gate that's about 30 feet away. Turns out it was actually a tiny moth about 5 inches from my face. Perspective is weird. :/
Linda: Oh, I can find you. Be afraid. *googles "Linda", comes up with 2,000,000 results, slams fist on desk* Okay, don't be that afraid, I guess.
Rubbish: Thank you and THANK YOU.
Kirby: It's my double chin, huh. Or maybe the lip caught mid-twitch? MmmHmm you want it.
Ed: Insanity is repeating something over and over and expecting a different result? Yeah, that's not insanity. He probably meant that insanity is doing something over and over and expecting a different result and then shitting your pants and eating it.
Sara: Haha!! I was thinking I looked like I just watched someone eat their booger. But I like yours much better.
Anon: My dad had atherosclerosis! It's related, is it? Also, I love you. Please come back and call me "wee thing" and "sweet girl" again sometime. Sigh. I feel pretty.
Zoe: Hi Zwee! Yeah, sixth grade was a bitch. I'll just say it's a good thing that photo's not scratch and sniff, cause whoo-wee!! Hello hormones!
Lou: There's always the "sad puppy anus" though. Also, thank you.
Eva: Thank goodness I run a body shop out of my garage, I never could have pulled it off.
Siren: EXACTLY. You totally get it. I'm serious. That's exactly right.
I don't know you, but I blog-stalk you, and I feel like you are a super funny version of me with more time, a better camera and you can take jokes x 10 and it gets hilarious, so I hope you're not crazy... cuz I already mentioned the blog-stalk...
You are A-ok, Becks. A. O. K.
*crazy finger circle beside the head move*
I would say hysterical, in the good way. Not the freaking out crazy way or anything to do with the uterus way.
Those dog pictures are soooooohhhh cute. Oh, poor Farley. But still, it's kind of funny, right?
No insane person could ever write such a hilarious and logical piece about insanity. That's the test nobody tells you about: it's a written one. Congrats. You passed. ;)
nah, you're as sane as i am!!
wait....
; ]
And this is why I love you. When they put us in the home, I hope your room is next to mine.
THAT....... is a couple pant-loads of crazy right there. It's like you live in Crazy Town. It's like all the crazy in the world formed and island and made you live there. And then crowned you Queen of everything. You're stranded atop Mount Crazy and have no choice to eat yourself to stay alive, like those soccer players in the Andes.
I just don't know if there's any way to extract you from that. But I'll be sending my last big German Shepherd to your house later today, with a little flask of Regular hanging from his neck. I hope he can find you. Y'know, through all the Crazy.
Welcome to my world, sister.
"Boner City" just made my whole day.
http://fourtunesfool.blogspot.com/
You are an arteest! Van Gogh wasn't appreciated until after his death.
Please send me one of your amazing works so I can hang on to it (hopefully for a good long while) until your death, upon which time I will make a killing on ebay. Yes?
Your sanity and my sanity must be cousins.
P.S. I worked in an Alzheimer's care facility for a year. I'd go home and crawl into bed and the crawling motion would send me off into a whirling, twirling confusion of what was real and whether or not I was really Clara's friend or maybe she thought I was just another child playing in the dumpster and singing, "Loo dee do! Loo dee do!"
OMG! You're so not crazy.
And if I were an old man pedophile, I would totally do you when you were in 6th grade. Why do you think you weren't pretty then?
The collar is very Elizabeth Smart. I totally would have whacked it all over that picture of you. You had a face made for milk cartons, baby.
I mean, I would have whacked it, had I not already cut it off and become the most beautiful Victoria's Secret model ever.
I'd jizz in your hair if I were an old man and you were in 6th grade, is my point.
I feel as though I'm at a loss because my mother and grandma watched the soaps on ABC exclusively. I've therefore never seen one episode of "Days of Our Lives." That's right. I've somehow managed to go through life not knowing Marlena's private and painful struggle.
Also, you can compliment my cats' manners any time. To be honest, I'm sort of insulted that you haven't yet. Is it because I've never accused you of stealing my car? Because I totally will if that's what it.
... takes.
Awesome. Prematurely ended the comment. That never happens to me.
Wanna know what's crazy? All those good bananas in hiding going to waste.
You however, seem perfectly sane.
Bwahahahahahaohmygod, I think I just peed a little, from the coughing from the laughing but I looooove youuuuu!!!eleven!
Marlena!!!!!! I'm sort of shouting it into the wind or down a well or across the sea or as she's in a fire, or whatever. Remember how he was always shouting for her. I remember that episode, the manson meets hourglass episode, it haunts me. I used to watch "Days," as I called it, while eating powdered sugar straight out of the box, because there was never anything good to eat in the house. "Days" saved many of us back then.
the coin sock: it's a weapon and popcorn money! bwwhahahaha.
your dad was awesome. now where's that student credit card. i have some gifts to order.
I can't pick out just one favourite part in this post, but the dog not being able to make it on his bed is pretty high on the list.
you better start saving your coin socks to buy me a new work chair, because I just peed it a little bit while silent laughing to this whole post.
I have a coin sock somewhere. I think we could be related. My grandmother almost married James Whitmore. I'm not sure how that fits in, but it popped up in my head as i was writing, so I put it in there.
I cannot remember the last time I have laughed that hard! I can relate!
I think I peed myself a little at the very last picture. But hey, I feel like I'm going crazy, too, sometimes. Just shower for a while, watch the movie Elf 20 times, drink some water, and DO NOT WATCH THE MOVIE MIRRORS. It's a mindfuck. Kinda like Inception. BUT WORSE.
I tell you what's crazy: thinking Victoria's Secret models can get anywhere near a bag of chips. BAM!
So, you kind of are crazy, but like, *good* crazy, you know? Not like *crazy person* crazy.
I remember being in grade school when my siblings and I bought my mother a t-shirt that said "Insanity is hereditary, you get it from your kids."
I never really understood it... but now, after reading your post, it's beginning to make a little more sense.
Keep up the good work.
You may be a little "off", but I consider you an inspiration (which makes me even more "off").
If you are crazy, I don't want to be sane. You are all sorts of awesome.
I used to have the best memory in the world, like, almost photographic. Now, I am menopausal, and it would take me a few minutes to remember what I did yesterday (not much, it turns out). It's kind of alarming.
Ok if I had a safe I would totally keep my chapstick in it. Ask my husband.
I have a pet worm I think you should meet
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