What Else Is There?

To quote my oldest and dearest friend, “God just slapped me in the face.”

I’ve been making bad decisions all over the place, and they’re beginning to catch up to me.  Not saying I subscribe to the whole theory of karma, but the optimist in me has to believe that doing good things will count for something.  And the optimist in me has been very disappointed in my actions as of late.

Here’s my poor me list of everything that has gone wrong over the past few weeks.

• Had over $1,000 worth of text books and my collection of shot glasses (23 from all over the world) stolen.
• Made bad decisions and sprained my knee horribly, leaving me with a terrible limp. Worst timing possible, because
• I’m moving this week. I packed up everything I own, only to find out that the apartment that I’m moving into is still under construction. And to top it all off,
• I have a HUGE fat lip, caused by making more poor decisions.

You know what? Typing that out made me realize how awesome my life is. If those are the worst of my problems right now, things are a lot better than they could be.  I’m so used to things just going right that when they go wrong I turn into a wimpering little bitch. Here’s all of the things that are going right:

• I get to move into a brand spanking new apartment building in the near future.
• I have job security throughout the year.
• I’m going to Vegas with my friends on Thursday.
• I’m beginning my senior year of college.
• Just…everything.

We never think about that, do we? About how awesome it is just to be alive? We have places to go, places to be, places to escape to, places we dream about. We have things that we love, things that we want, things that we change. We have people to talk to, people to laugh with, people to scream at, people to run to. We have movie theatres and water parks and office buildings and coffee shops and churches and bars and libraries and wi-fi hot spots and music stores and Netflix and animal shelters and local restaurants. These are all things that we feel entitled to, that we feel are normal, that so many parts of the world can only see as the epitamy of luxury.

 So…this brings me back to the karma concept. If it takes a few minor inconveniences to knock me on my ass so quickly, I am clearly not looking at the big picture. Things will work themselves out. They always do. In the meantime, I’m just going to keep smiling and keep trying to do the right thing. What else is there?

You Have Achieved Maximum Slagginess.

Adventure for the week: went on a road trip by myself without a map.

I was lucky enough to be born into a family of extremely funny people. My paternal relatives are born storytellers and are damn entertaining.  You can never quite be sure of the line between truth and fiction, but in the end, does it really matter? My maternal relatives are witty and sarcastic, and spout off one liners with the frequency and timing of any deadly professional.  Why wouldn’t I want to hang out with these people?

This weekend, the maternal relatives were gathering at an old lakehouse that has been in the family for years.  My own parents couldn’t make it, but I decided to haul off and represent our branch.  Easier said than done.  Apparently, Google Maps doesn’t want people to find this lakehouse, or the lake that it resides by.  There is also no indication of any roads leading to the lake on my trusty map of Montana that has served my glovebox faithfully.  I also have next to no sense of direction. That is why we are going to classify my making it there as an “adventure.”

So I knew the general way in which  I was supposed to be driving to arrive at this lake. I also knew that the drive should take approximately three hours. (One thing that I love/hate about us Montanans…we describe the distance between any two points in terms of time rather than terms of space.) And I was off, heading south.

After an insanely beautiful drive, two turn arounds, three points of construction, and a good six discs of my Stephen King audiobook, I arrived at the lake in three and a half hours. Another half hour to find the house, and I was only an hour behind schedule. And since I was at the lake, who cares about anything as mundane as a schedule?

So after spending the weekend tubing, chasing, kite flying, and laughing, I’d declare that adventure a success. I don’t see the point of getting into specifics (they would all be “you had to be there” moments…although I would say that the freshly coined term “slaggy” to descibe the inside of a roasted marshmellow should make its way into the mainstream lexicon.)

Now I’m back at the office and wondering where summer went. Although I’m sure I’ll find it next week during Scobey, Part 2: Electric Fair Boogaloo. Meanwhile, my adventures will probably all be either walking by the river or Nintendo DS related, if the weather doesn’t let up.

Much love, guys. Much love. Happy Summer!

IT’S SO FLUFFY I’M GONNA DIE

So guys…adventures. I’ve been having ’em.

Cooking adventure: Homemade spinach artichoke dip. Turned out weird looking, but oh-so tasty. (Don’t think I’ve ever typed the word “tasty” before, which is making me question whether it’s spelled right. Is there an ‘e’ in it? Tastey? That looks dumb. Oh look, I’m actually typing this.) I put waaaaay too much cheese on top, so it didn’t melt all the way. And then it bubbled over and got all swampy looking. But it tasted pretty fantastic.

Other noteworthy adventures…I went home for the Fourth of July. Which was all sorts of amazing. Best adventure of being home (with the exception of watching one of my favorite former classmates sing karaoke) was getting both my kindergarten and second grade teacher to buy me drinks. It was a good weekend.

This week is the last week of summer classes, so I haven’t had a lot of quality adventure time lately. This week is going to be comprised of coffee, all nighters, and a hell of a lot of motivation metal.

Oh, and just a P.S.: Despicable Me is freaking hysterical. And Pharrell Williams is a genius.

Let’s Go On An Adventure!

Having an office job has opened my eyes to a lot of hard truths about the world and my place in it.  All of these little truths sum up to one thing: I get bored way too easily to do this for the rest of my life.

Being in an office all day in office clothes having office conversations has given me a real bad case of the stir crazies. These feelings of “lemmeoutlemmeoutlemmeout” have given birth to a new life goal: go on some sort of adventure. Every. Single. Day.

They aren’t all going to be exciting. I’m going to push the bounds of what mundane little tasks qualify as adventures. Here’s my extremely loose definition of an adventure: something I’ve never done before. Everyday, I’m going to go out of my way to do something just a little different. Somedays, it’s going to something small, like trying to make a risotto for the first time. Other days, it’s going to be big, like hiking the Trail to the Sun. Either way, I’m sure going to chronicle the hell out of each and every one.

Yesterday, my adventure was extremely small, but it’s going to count. (Because I’m in charge of what counts and what doesn’t.) Yesterday, I did something that I had never done before. I ordered a glass of expensive, fancy pants wine in a restaurant. It. Was. Disgusting. Yesterday I learned that my palette is not yet distinguished enough to appreciate a vintage pinot noir. Yesterday I also learned that wine might be a fun hobby (when I reach a place of disposable income) if I start at the bottom and work my way up. And yesterday I learned that $7 is a pretty reasonable price for an adventure.

Tonight, I’m going on a cooking adventure. I’m going to make Spinach Artichoke dip for an office pot luck tomorrow. From scratch. This is either going to be a masterpiece or a disaster. But either way, it will be an aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaadventure!*

*Cue theme music

What We Have Here Is A Failure To Communicate.

I’M BACK!

Hi guys. It’s been a while. How have you been?

Come on. Don’t look at me like that. I know I haven’t been around, but I’ve had shit to do.

So we cool? We cool.

A lot has changed, guys. There are blonde streaks in my hair. I’m working in an office. Uh…fucking Futurama is back.

Okay, so maybe not that much has changed, but I thought you all at least deserved to know that I’m not dead.  And I plan on actually writing a little more over the summer, chronicling my adventures and what not.

But I can’t promise I won’t forget again. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED.

…-DARY.

Yeah, kinda forgot I had a blog there for a little while. Oops. Here’s a few little tidbits because I am way too ADD to actually be coherent.

Well, I’m back home and working my clumsy little fingers to the bone. Due to some paperwork mishaps, my CNA license expired. So now I’m working at the Clubhouse of the Scobey Golf Course, and I love it. So if you’re in Scobey over the next two months and decide to check out our excellent golf scene, drop in and see me. I’ll make you a Paralyzer that will knock your socks off.

I feel a little guilty sitting here writing this right now. It is gorgeous and green out right now. QUICK DECISION: When I’m done here, I’m busting out the swimsuit and my library book and hitting the patio.

I’m sure I’ve talked about this before, but Top Chef. Come on. Brilliance. And now Top Chef Masters? Oh my God. I’ve learned that I love competition shows, no matter how mind numbingly stupid. The same part of my brain that likes Sex and the City draws me back to America’s Next Top Model. And while I hate that stupid show, I still end up sitting through it being pissed off right to the end to see who gets eliminated. I’ve become a freaking demographic. Speaking of TV, last night I was introduced to The Big Bang Theory. Just delightful.

I’m going to try something different with my hair. Still long, but more bangy. Pictures later, but I’ve been known to lie.

So I’ve got these two kittens that I rescued. Named Franklin and Delano (who I call Duffy for some reason.) They are the sweetest babies in the world and frighteningly bring out my maternal instincts. Well, at least I know I have some.

My best friends are in Europe and right now. That’s kind of depressing to me.

Moving sucks. While I’m excited to head back to G-Funk…gosh. Moving. Gross.

Yeah…can’t stay inside one more minute. Later gators

filler post

My laundry is piling up and finals are fast approaching. (I don’t know exactly when, because I’m not one to keep track of these sorts of things.) So here I am. With more random thoughts that come in a handy dandy Snapple-fact-bullet-form variety.

~No idea why, but Phil Hartman has been on my mind lately. Which, I realize, is a pretty strange thing to have on my mind. And not SNL or Simpsons quotes. I’ve been thinking about the actual guy and his life and his death. RIP. I guess there are worse things I could have on my mind.

~I’m so close to being done with this year of school, and it’s going to be fantastic. God help me, I’m excited to head back east for the summer. I love me some N-E-Mont. (tee hee.)

~Let’s take a minute here and talk about the ACLU. The reason I like the American Civil Liberties Union is simply this: everyone HATES them. I disagree with a ton of their political stances and they’ve defended a bunch of diabolical people…but that took some freaking guts. Everyone deserves a fair trial, and they’re taking the jobs that they know they’re going to receive hate mail for. Not saying I agree with them on everything they do, but I definitely wish I had that kind of courage.

~The new season of South Park hasn’t been half bad, in my humble opinion. We’ll see how this pirate episode goes…

~Ellipses (…) irritate me.

~New ink! I’m excited for the tattoo stigma to go away.

~Does anyone else get emails from political parties trying to get you to sign up? So far the Republicans have sent me around four, the Libertarians have been emailing me on and off for like six months, and I had to block the Democrats because they were borderline harassing me. I’m sure this has something to do with some of the law things I’ve been involved with, but good grief. I’m not even a big fan of the partisan system, so if you’re trying to recruit me (you know who you are) leave me alone.

~I really enjoy musicals. (Yeah, big surprise.) And the last good one I saw was Dr. Horrible. I’m going through withdrawals.

~I think I figured out what I wanna do with my life. Go me.

~I laid out in the sun today for like an hour and a half. I made a bee friend. It was fantastic.

~I have this fixation with animation. Most recently: Aqua Teen Hunger Force.

WOW my room is a disaster right now. Might should take care of that. (P.S. I’m going buffalo hunting on Saturday. If you don’t know what that means, just wait for my next post. It’s gonna be, to quote Barney, LEGEN-

they cry over…like, everything.

One time I made a vegetarian cry. I felt kind of bad, but…come on…they cry over like, everything. Yep, it’s story time.

So I was a pretty hard core 4-H kid. I mean, everything I do is hardcore, so I had to inject my metalness into the local 4-H branch. (Poplar Valley, if you care.) I vaguely remember being Vice-President for a while, and I’m pretty sure I was President during my senior year. But I digress. Since I was a beef rancher’s daughter (which, incidentally, makes me like a million times more hardcore) I obviously excelled in the Market Beef project. Every year, I whipped my Angus-Gelbviegh into shaped, named it something hilarious, killed at the carcass show and cleaned house at showmanship. I rocked that project. 

I also rocked 4-H Congress, making tons of friends in the process. Generally, 4-H kids are the awesomest you’re ever gonna meet. There are, like with everything, exceptions to this observation. One of those exceptions happened to be in one of my workshop groups. She argued with everything anyone said, and for some insane reason, acted like she wasn’t completely ecstatic to be at 4-H Congress. (I know, WTF?) Anyways, she just happened to be in front of me in the lunch line. Since we 4-Hers love us some sammichs, they provided a variety of subs for us to choose from. I, being awesome, picked the roast beef sub. But Little Miss…let’s call her Peta, did not think this was that awesome. In fact, she thought I was right up there with Hitler. Here is a recreation of our conversation:

Peta: Oh my god! How can you live with yourself? You choose to live on FLESH?

Me: …um…what?

Peta: I can’t believe you’re actually choosing to eat beef. You’re supporting the suffering of animals.

Me: …yeah…no I’m not.

Peta: You know, people don’t need FLESH to survive. By taking supplements you can get all the nutrition you need and no animals have to die. Also, do you have any ideas how many chemicals go into the processing of those animals? (She takes a bite of her veggie sub and sips her Pepsi, of all things.)

Me: Okay, so we’re really gonna do this. *sigh*. All right. First off, it’s been proven that supplements cannot provide the proper amount of iron and protein that you get from beef. Second of all, very few chemicals go into meat processing. A lot less than that Pepsi you’re drinking. I’ve watched the whole thing done. Thirdly, these animals didn’t suffer. I know exactly how cattle are brought up; I’ve been living around it since I was born.

Peta: Those animals don’t deserve to die just for our consumption. 

Me: Then what do you propose they do? Should all livestock just be set free? Would it be better for them to be on their own, which they haven’t done in living memory? Yeah, I’m sure their survival skills are top notch. Do you realize how ranchers have to work just to keep cattle alive? Cows are stupid and just die. In twenty years they would be extinct from being unable to survive any winters on their own. And those deaths would be long, starving and painful. Why do you want them to suffer like that?

Peta: Well…I mean…

Me: Besides, more animals were killed in the process of making that hoagie your veggie sub is on. Do you have any idea how many animals are killed in the process of harvesting of the wheat for that hoagie? Rabbits, gophers, birds…mass combines don’t exactly stop everything to make sure they get out of the way.

Peta:…I…well….you’re eating one too!

Me: Yeah. I don’t have a problem with it. That’s Darwin for ya.

Peta: I guess…well…I didn’t realize that…

Peta then storms away, leaving her lunch with tears in her eyes, her shit having thoroughly been ruined.

That’s what happened. Nicole one, vegetarians zero. Look, I have no problem with what you choose to do with your body. If you think meat is murder, you go right ahead and think that. Whatevs, more power to ya. But don’t try and get sanctimonious with me, because every argument you have I can counter with three. And don’t try and tell me you’re healthy enough, because chances are you’re not. (Or won’t be for long.) And please, do not tell me how long you’ve gone without eating meat. I don’t care. To quote Jim Gaffigan, “Oh, you haven’t eaten meat in four years? Well I haven’t had a banana in a month. You don’t hear me bragging about it.”

And don’t e-mail me about being vegetarian with your arguments for anything I’ve written about vegetarians. Because I’ll probably just make you cry.

Quarantined!

I’ve been stricken down by that nucleosis known as MONO. *insert kissing disease joke here* But apparently it’s a pretty interesting thing, according to that obnoxious little know-it-all WebMD. See, when I was little I had all sorts of problems in the tonsil region, so we yanked those suckers out at age 12. Apparently tonsil-less folk like me shouldn’t be this affected by the mono, but my other glands still hate me so they’re swelling up extra huge to make up for the lack of useless organs in my throat. My body is a jerk. Plus there’s this whole slew of potential other things that could be cooking all up in my juice, so we’ll just see where that goes.

Because my body rebels against all of the ill-advised reckless shit I put it through, here are a few of the many and varied occurences of medical oddities that have afflicted me:

Age 10: My horse decides to be a jerk and buck me off, breaking the growth plate in my right arm. Luckily, surgery was able to make sure I didn’t end up with one itty bitty ungrown arm. Two days after surgery, I got on the same horse who bucked me off again. And so we have concussion number one.

Age 11: A snow globe explodes in my hands, slicing my pinkie bad enough to require nine stitches. To this day, still no idea how it happened.

Age 12: Gettin’ them tonsils out. They gave me way too much anesthetic and apparently almost resorted to using the paddles to snap me out of it. I slept for two and a half days, waking only to puke up the blood I swallowed. Oh, and be tee dub, while I was under they decided to throw some tubes in my ears.

Age 13: My horse troubles continue and I get bucked off again. (Shut up, I train horses, it’s an occupational hazard.) This time it’s my poor little thumb that gets snapped. Nothing too weird about this, other than that now its full of the arthritis and I can tell when it’s gonna rain. Oh, and concussion number two.

Age 16: WORST PAIN OF MY LIFE. Because I’m the person that I am, I like to do things very fast that I’m really just not coordinated enough to handle. One of these things is the Risky Business sock slide. Well, one fateful day after branding, I thought I’d do said slide down the hall. I usually stop by falling or hitting a wall, and today was no different. However, on the floor next to the wall was a bag of used cow needles from branding. I managed to thrust my foot against that bag, simultaneously poking one of the needles out and pressing the bag against the wall which pushed in the plunger. Yep, just injected myself with cow enzyme. Good way to get blood poisoning, apparently. But the hell of it is, I didn’t even realize what had happened. I was just like, “why on earth did that hurt so bad?” Six hours later, I didn’t care how it happened because my foot was twice it’s normal size and I had to crawl upstairs to call for help. Crutches experience number one.

Age 17: Fall through some ice in a frozen river. I was able to pull myself out, but got all these scrapes and, you guessed it, concussion number three.

Age 18: Fall off the big blow up obstacle course set up by the National Guard and tear all three ligaments in my right ankle. Crutches experience number two. Also, it ended my varsity golf career and forced me to wear freaking ugly pink crocs all around Russia because they were the only shoes that my brace could fit under.

Age 19: Fall off the top bunk on a bunk bed. Concussion number three. Almost O’D’ed on ibuprofen. Then thought it was Thursday all week. Go me.

And now. The mono, and possibly more. At least none of this was a result of my falling….well at least not in a way that I can connect. Now it’s time for more sleep.

words not on a computer screen

I’ve been reading lately. Reading books.

Reading used to be a huge deal to me. Throughout elementary school, I just read everything I could get my hands on indiscriminately. Since I was reading before kindergarten, I’d made it through all the school library’s Goosebumps and Nancy Drew by third grade, all the Fear Street and Baby Sitter Club by fifth grade, then just gave up on the school library and started hitting up the public library for Stephen King and Dean Koontz. I would just sit in study hall and read instead of doing my math homework. (Which I never did. I just turned a piece of paper with numbers on it everyday. Got a C. True story.) Then, around sophomore year, I just put the books down. (And picked the booze and boyfriend up. In retrospect, fair trade.)

Last year, I never read anything for fun because I was too busy swimming in the mandatory reading materials that engulfed my life. Somehow, I felt my free time was better spent watching movies than reading. Recently, however, I’ve had a change of heart. I’ve been reading up a storm, and not just Stephen King. Lately I’ve been obsessed with Chuck Palahniuk (who wrote Fight Club for the uninitiated.) For a normal person, this would be fine. But since I have this weird obsessive compulsion with knowing everything about everything, I won’t be content until I’ve read everything good old Chuck has ever written and everything written about him. Same thing happened with Mr. Stephen King when I discovered him in sixth grade. My mom had to set limits on when I could start a new book with him, because otherwise I would just clean out the library and sit around poking through literature. Not okay.

As of right now, I have read two Palahniuk books and have recently purchased a third that I have yet to start. But that’s not where my reading adventures end. Ever since I saw Sin City, it’s been one of my goals to read a graphic novel. When  I saw the preview for Watchmen, I knew this was it. But because I’m ADD and just read really fast rather than enjoy any of the pictures, I kept getting lost trying to absorb the cloud of plotlines that is Watchmen. I made it to Chapter 3, and then saw the movie in IMAX (which rocked my socks, be tee dub). Now, I still wanna finish it because I’ll be able to follow it without looking at the pictures and because Rorsatch (sp) is my new psychotic hero. I’m also halfway done with a poetry book by Charles Bukowski. This isn’t exactly a voluntary exploration of literature; I need to get a review done on this. Since poetry and I cordially hate each other, the only basis I had for trying to grasp Bukowski is because of the Modest Mouse song about him. Turns out, I don’t hate it. So I’ve just been reading up a storm up in here.

I don’t think I use paratheses or commas correctly because I use them all the freaking time.

The movie Evita is probably something that all band geeks should watch. Beyond that, I don’t see why anyone else would sit through that film.

I find out if I’m still an RA tomorrow. That means I can start planning my life.

I’ve had a really strong draw to tattoo parlors lately. Maybe it’s a spring cleaning sort of thing except with metal and ink.

I touched Zakk Wylde’s hand, and that officially makes me about ten times more badass than I was last week.