Friday, November 15, 2013

Candy Crushing My Soul

I have a completely unnatural love of silly, cartoonish, pastel colored video games. If they have cute animals and campy music, even better!  Super Mario is my all-time favorite.  It started with my love of the original and my very first NES and has continued until present day with my New Super Mario Bros. for Wii.  I haven’t upgraded to the Wii U yet…. But I am sure it’s only a matter of time. 

 Coolest room EVAR!!

I guess I shouldn’t say that I only love silly, foo-foo games. My sister and I used to have epic, marathon Mortal Kombat battles.  We were pretty good, if I do say so myself.  I always wanted to be Reptile, and she was always the scary long haired lady, whose name now escapes me.  


 I have never really been into PC games for the simple fact that after years and years and years of console games, my fingers do not cooperate fast enough on a keyboard.  Which makes no sense to me because I type alllll day long.  For some reason though, I cannot navigate a game using the arrow keys and a mouse the same way I do a controller.  It’s like trying to write my name with my left hand.  Rhys thinks that PC games are the way to go, the bees knees….. we have agreed to disagree, haha.  But I think secretly he knows that I am right. Console games are far superior, at least in the cute-cuddly-woodland creature genre. 

 How I imagine all PC gamers..... except my boyfriend!

One thing that I have never been into though are games on my phone.  90% of them seem like a stupid waste of time, first of all (not at all like my Super Mario!). And secondly, I don’t want them cluttering up my screen.  I played Words with Friends for about a minute before I got bored with it. The same thing happened with Hanging with Friends and then Song Pop.  I gave them all a fair shot, but ultimately could not stay interested for any period of time and shortly deleted them from my phone. 

But then Candy Crush happened. 

I heard people talking about it and I scoffed.  Yes I did. I was thinking to myself “these people are dumb and easily amused”.  And I felt secretly superior to them in the same way that I did when all my friends on Facebook were playing Farmville, which I was sure was the most pointless waste of time EVER. I was spending an obscene amount of time constantly adjusting my settings so that I didn’t have to see all my friends’ game-related updates.  I am only slightly interested in what you had for lunch, or did for your anniversary, so I am completely uninterested in what level you just got to in a game that I think is stupid anyway. I am like negatively interested to the inth degree, if such a thing were possible. 

One day I was giving a friend of mine a hard time about playing Candy Crush and he said to me “It’s so addicting, I can’t help it!  You can’t see that I am playing it, can you??” Like he was worried people would know.  I had this brilliant idea of trying the game out and then posting a blog about how ridiculous it is that people are crazy about it. 

And that is when my life changed forever. 

I downloaded the game to my phone and tried it out.  At first I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was just as lame as I assumed it would be.  “Really, all you have to do it get three candies in a row?  This is offensive to my intelligence.  I am going to go read the encyclopedia now to make up for this brain drain”.

As I continued to play, for research sake (I swear!), I found myself more and more sucked in. I was unaware of how much time was passing. Surely I should have been doing something productive, like laundry, or walking the dog, or balancing my check book.  Instead, I continued to sit there and play, for hours. I am not proud of this fact. 

At some point Rhys asked me what I was doing and I shamefully admitted that I was playing Candy Crush. I could see the look of disdain in his eyes. He was judging me, just as I had judged all the others.  He laughed and made some joke about me being sucked in like everyone else, and I recognized the tone of condescension in his voice because I had surely sounded the exact same way when teasing my friends. As much as I was ashamed, at that moment it was more important that I create a color bomb and get past level 85!

For the next few days every time Rhys would catch me staring blankly at my phone he would ask me what I was doing and I would declare that I was “Crushing all the candies!”  On a few occasions, while lying in bed, he would watch me play and offer helpful suggestions on the most effective move to use. 

The couple that plays phone games in bed together, stays together!

About a week later I noticed Rhys sitting quietly and staring very intently at his phone. When I asked him what he was up to, he hesitated to answer. It was only when I walked over to him that I caught him. He was playing Candy Crush!!!  

I feel responsible for introducing him to this soul-sapping time waster!!  

Now, we are locked in a Candy Crush battle! Who can get to the highest level?  He says that I have an unfair advantage because I started playing before he did. It’s a valid point, but I don’t care because I am winning!

How is it possible that I have become one of them? One of those silly Facebook game players.  It wouldn’t be so bad except in an effort to not have anyone know that I was so enthralled, I refused the “ask friends for help” function in the game and instead chose to pay the fee every time I advanced to the next level.  I am spending my hard earned money to advance in a game that 2 months ago I thought was the dumbest thing ever created! 

I may need an intervention. Just sayin. HELP ME!!

Thursday, October 3, 2013


Oh hashtagging, I do believe you have ruined social media for me.  I understand how it started and I understand what the purpose was, and admittedly, it was a good idea. But somehow it has been hijacked by silly silly people and used for purposes not in line to the original purpose of hashtagging.

I have a couple friends who do not know what a hashtag is, so in order for this post to make more sense, I am gonna school you guys for just a minute.


A hashtag is a word or phrase, prefixed with a pound sign. The pound sign then makes the word or phrase searchable, or categorizes it for lack of a better description, on certain sites that utilize the feature. For example, on Twitter if I were to tweet "OMG, did you see that train wreck of a performance on the VMAs??  #mileycyrus"; anyone could search for #mileycyrus and see any post with that particular hashtag.

What has been seen cannot be unseen.....

p.s.  For the record, I don't tweet or twerk.
p.p.s I had to Google twerking because I didn't know what it was. Again, what has been seen........

There are only a handful of sites that actually support the hashtag feature. So I found it especially obnoxious when my friends on Facebook were following every post with a hashtag. Facebook only very recently jumped on the hashtag bandwaggon and even at that has managed to implement it VERY poorly and without much success.   

I guess that my problem with hashtags is not so much that I don't appreciate their purpose, but that it seems that everyone has forgotten what they are really for and have morphed them into something totally different, and pointless. 

As I mentioned previously, the point of a hashtag is to categorize a post and make it searchable. SEARCHABLE is the key. Of course you can create your own catchy hashtag and use it for every picture of your baby that you post on Facebook..... Alyssa, I am looking at you.... but what is the point if your hashtag is not something that anyone else would think of in order to search for your photos or posts?  I am going to tap out after 3 unsuccessful attempts to find little Peyton's adorable photos if #baby, #peyton, #babypeyton did not work. How I am supposed to know that you would use #babypisthecutestthingontheplanetandijustlooooooovehimsooooomuchsqueeeeeeeee! ??

Another of my pet peeves with hashtags on Facebook is that some of my friends, who shall remain nameless, but we alllllll know who you are, follow a one or two word status update with the longest list of hashtags I have ever seen.  Such as: "Monday #nobueno #ineedmorecoffee #someonehasacaseofthemondays #4moredaystilfriday #fridayfridaygottagetdownonfriday"

My favorite hashtag of all is #love;  Because really, love is a very very VERY relative thing. Some people love cute puppies. Other people love kale chips. And some people even love anal fisting. You are a truly brave soul to search #love. You might get cute fluffy bunnies, you might get angry fetish porn. Good luck to you!

I remember when it meant nothing more to me than the symbol for number and told me when a note was sharp on sheet music!

Ahhhh yes, I miss those days.

Of course I still love my hashtagging friends on Facebook, but just know that every time I see your "Lunch time! #hungryhungryhippo #sandwhichandkalechips #iwonderwhatthepoorstarvingchildreninsomaliaareeatingforlunch" post, I am shaking my head at you. 

Monday, April 22, 2013

Thanks for the tip!

I saw this commercial a while back while at the movies....


Dear Rihanna,

Remember that time that Chris Brown, like, totally mangled your face and the whole world heard about it and rallied behind you and supported you because he was a douche with no excuse to live and you are a sweet innocent flower and no one ever deserves to be abused?   Oh you don't remember that?  It's ok, maybe this will refresh your memory:

And then after that Chris Brown went on an "I am so misunderstood and everyone is so meaaaaan to me so I am going to rip my clothes off and break windows with chairs!" rampage!  That definitely helped his image and  cemented his place in our hearts as America's favorite PSA against Domestic Violence.

 It's hard out there for a pimp

Well, Rihanna,  the day that you decided that maybe he is an alright guy after all and took him back and started singing songs about birthday cake together was the day that I stopped paying ANY attention at all to your fall back career attempt to be a life coach.

"We all start somewhere, it’s where you end up that counts”.

Well said. So when I decide that I want to end up as someones punching bag I will make sure and follow your lead.


P.s. You are way too pretty and talented for that sort of nonsense. 

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

I enjoy being a girl!

For about 26 days of the month I am a happy, well adjusted, confident woman.
 I feel like a prom queen with a smokin' hot date 90% of the time

The other 4 or 5 days of the month, when "Aunt Flo" comes to visit, I am an irrational, overly emotional train wreck.

 Rage monster!!!!!

I am sure that I am not alone when I say that I think it's a bit unfair that, as women, we have to endure this monthly nightmare for the better part of our lives, when we really only need our menstrual cycles during our child bearing years.  For most of us, we are going to get our child birthing out of the way between the ages of 20 and 35. Not to say it doesn't happen outside that timeline..... but generally speaking.  That is 15 years of the curse to endure, and more than long enough in my opinion.  I know that whining and pissing and moaning about it won't change anything.  I am just waxing poetic here about how amaze-balls it would be if in a perfect world I could flip a switch on the day I decide I want to start having kids, to open the flood gates so-to-speak, and then when I am done populating the earth with the fruits of my womb, I can turn the switch back off.

 Let's do this!!

Can I get an Amen?

Sadly, that is not how it works. I have been dealing with my monthly visitor since I turned 14. FOURTEEN. I hadn't even kissed a boy at the age of 14, so what the hell was my body doing getting ready for the big show??

Disappointed Otter is disappointed

On top of the fact that menstruating is uncomfortable, at best, and makes me a weepy mess, I have spent WAAAAAYYYYYYY  too much money over the years on the various accoutrements that one needs to survive the monthly crimson tide, i.e: maxi pads, tampons, Motrin, etc. Way too much money and NO OFFSPRING TO SHOW FOR IT YET.

I bought tampons the other day. They are Tampax brand and they are called "Radiant"  Yep, radiant.  No part of being on my period and using that product makes me feel like a radiant princess.  I don't care what they say, I still feel like I am plugged up with a cotton torpedo.  They can stuff their radiant princess sticks right up their ass.

Did anyone else ever watch this video in preparation for "becoming a woman"?

 At about the 7 minute mark, it starts talking about the symptoms of menstruation. Some girls might feel less "peppy" and experience the occasional "twinge" in the lower abdomen.

Thank you Disney, for properly preparing me for the feeling of gremlins trying to claw their way out of my uterus each month.  I definitely feel less peppy.

*sigh* I don't know where exactly where I was going with all this. I just think it's lame.  And my poor boyfriend had to bear witness to my emotional nuclear meltdown at dinner the other night  simply because I hated every one and everything and they put walnuts on my salad which prompted murderous rage and contempt!!! And then tears. Yes, I cried. He's a trooper, that's for sure.

Oh well.... Back to my Wile E. Coyote-esque drawing board where I am attempting to cure the evil curse!!!

Monday, February 11, 2013

The Apple Crate Killer!!

So I am not exactly saying that my ex roommate is a murderer.

But he is probably a murderer. A murderer that is getting right with God, but probably a murderer, nonetheless.

 But less likeable, and definitely not as good looking as Dexter.

I moved into my townhouse last summer. It is the very first time I have ever lived alone; I have always had a roommate. Honestly, I wasn’t thrilled about being along all the time.  I thought about it for awhile and after the first couple months there I decided to get a roommate.  Fortunately, or unfortunately, none of my friends or acquaintances were in need of a room to rent and so I was forced to accept the idea of renting to a stranger.  I wasn’t that worried about it because I am a friendly person, easy to get along with. I figured it wouldn’t take long at all to be on a friendly basis with any new roommate.

 I kept my fingers crossed that I wouldn't end up with a crazy, life stealing stalker.

I live pretty close to a GIANT church. The place looks like an airport.  I am not sure what it is about this church but people come from alllllll over the world to go there. I can’t even tell you how many people have told me that they moved away from all of their friends and family in Serbia so that they could move to Redding, CA where they know no one and have no job because…. Wait for it……   “God told me to”.  

I ran an ad on Craigslist for a roommate. I stated that I would prefer a female roommate, but that a male would be acceptable. I received a whole lot of responses from folks who were moving here for, you guessed it, the Church.  I have no problem with that, honestly. But so many of the people who emailed me did not even speak great English. I am not interested in not being able to communicate with my roommate.  I don’t want to have to learn to say “Pick up your shit!” in another language.

Anywho, a guy named Tom responded to my ad and stopped by one night to take a look at the townhouse.  He seemed nice enough. He was much older than me, in his 40’s I believe and had just moved here from Sacramento so that he could attend the airport church. He was wearing dress slacks and a tie and was very respectful.  He said that he really liked the feel of the place and that he would be back in touch. I did a search on him to make sure he wasn’t a serial killer, naturally.  A couple of days later, he emailed me to tell me that he would like to rent the room if it was still available. I told him it was and he said he would like to move in the following weekend. This was the middle of October.

My extra bedroom still had a spare guest bed in it. I asked him if he would like for me to leave it for his use, and he said that would be great because all he had was a futon. Seriously, a futon. I haven’t seen a futon since college. Anyway, I put a new mattress pad on it and left it in the room for him. When I was taking the rest of my stuff out of there I kind of pushed the bed out of the way and it just sort of stayed in that spot, in the middle of the room, away from the wall. I didn’t bother to move it anywhere in particular because I figured he could put it on whichever wall he liked best when he moved in.

I cleared out a drawer in the refrigerator for him to use for his food and one of the cabinets in the kitchen for his stuff.  I don’t really mind the idea of having our things comingled, but I wasn’t sure how he felt about it so I just went ahead and cleared the spaces for him. 

It took him exactly 3 hours to move all of his stuff in. Two car loads in his very tiny Toyota car, a tool box in the garage and two bicycles.  He had exactly 1 cooking pan, with his name written on masking tape on the handle.

I was out of the house when he moved in.  When I came home later that day I could already smell him.  Well not him per se, but I could smell something different in my house.  I could not figure out what the smell was. It was not necessarily a bad smell, but it was strong.  I just chalked it up to not being surrounded by all frilly girly things anymore.

Over the course of the next two months I laid eyes on Tom exactly 6 times.  And it was always while he was coming or going out of the house (always to the gym or to church or work).  He never ever ate a meal with Rhys and I or sat down to watch a movie. On the weekends he would never leave his room. He had no TV in his room, just a little radio that I could hear on occasion and a laptop. It's not that I was particularly anxious to hang out with him, I just found it so strange that he would rather stay holed up in the bedroom alllllll day then come downstairs.  I had told him when he moved in that he had free reign of the house. I didn't care if he had people over or anything as long as they were respectful of my things. He never had a single person over. It's not that I needed to be best friends with Tom, but I felt like I wanted to know him a bit better so that I didn't feel like I was, in fact, living with a total stranger.

And then there was that smell. Rhys and I finally figured out that it was curry that we were smelling.  Tom ate some weird food. The only food I ever saw of his in the house was mushrooms, nutritional yeast (barf), curry paste, celery and cream cheese. A shit ton of cream cheese. No joke, I looked in his refrigerator drawer one time and there were 10 (exactly, I counted) large sized containers of Philadelphia cream cheese. What does one do with THAT much cream cheese? The world may never know.

The curry smell seemed confined to his bedroom though. Strangely enough, he would cook with it in the kitchen, but shortly after the smell would dissipate, like he had never used it.  His bedroom, however, was leaking the smell of curry. When I would walk passed his bedroom door on the way to my bedroom I could always smell it. We shared a Jack N Jill bathroom and whenever I was in the restroom I could smell the curry coming from under the door into his room. It was so strange. And gross. I mean, I love me some indian food, and I love curry.... but I don't want to smell it all the time.  As far as I could tell, he must have been smearing curry paste on the walls of the bedroom.

I think that Tom was secretly trying to convert me to the airport church's ways without actually speaking to me. I was on my laptop one afternoon, updating my itunes or something mindless when I noticed that a new device had shown up under shared devices. I clicked on it saw a whole bunch of music with "God" as the artist.  Nice try, Tom. Seriously, what are you doing sharing your media library with the heathen that you won't even come downstairs to talk to? Weirdo. I'm on to you.

Rhys said that he had walked passed Tom's room once and the door was open so he kinda peeked inside and said that his room was really bare expect for the bed, which was still away from the wall and not really straight (weird, right?) and a couple apple crates on the floor.  Um what?

Now, I know what you are thinking. So what, they guy eats weird food, and likes to listen to God's greatest hits in the privacy of his own bedroom. What's the big deal?

Well, I suppose when you put it like that it isn't all that weird. But what about the fact that I think he was wrapping up dead bodies in packing tape late at night???  There can be no other explanation for the packing tape noises coming from his room at midnight. You know that noise, the one you hear when you stretch the tape with the dispenser across box lids. Only we never saw him taking any boxes anywhere to ship or store.

It has to be dead bodies. It's a totally reasonable conclusion. It's either that, or he has some weird packing tape fetish. Either way, he's a fucking weirdo recluse with questionable hobbies.

About 2 months after he moved in, Tom gave his 30 day notice (in the form of an email at 1:00am). He didn't say why, but I know why. That is a post for another day.

I can't really say that I was sad to see Tom go. Mostly because I didn't know him at all, but also because I was glad I had to no longer fear for my life while living with the apple crate, duct tape killer.

I think that my craigslist roommate searching days are over. That was a fun adventure, but I am glad that my bathroom doesn't smell like curry any more. My guest bed, on the other hand, is a totally different story. *sigh*.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Get your running shoes!

I am a Puma. 

Not a Puma as in the sneaker brand.

 And not a Puma as in the wild large cat that stalks and eats bighorn sheep (gross).

The only thing I stalk is younger men.


According to the all knowing Internets, I am too young to be considered a cougar, so I am a Puma instead.

 Ok, ok. I don’t ACTUALLY stalk younger men.  Thinking back though, there has been a high instance of younger men hitting on me. I am going to attribute it to the fact that I look younger than I am and they don’t realize that I could be their Mrs. Robinson.  Yeah…… that must be it.

Regardless of why or how,  I did manage to catch myself a man 4 years younger than me (Technically, as he is always reminding me, it is 3 and a half years….. but I round up).  Read about it here.

A lot of people will tell you that there is absolutely nothing wrong with a woman dating a man who is younger than her. And I agree with that. Then those same people think it’s funny to tease me about my much younger boyfriend. Jerks. They must just be jelly.

Honestly, I choose not to care about it. If we were to manage to stay together forever, it works out great because the men almost always die before the women, and I will get a couple more years out of him than I would with someone my own age.

AND, he can keep up, if you know what I’m saying (wink wink).

Aside from the fact that he is handsome and rocks my socks and the added bonus that he will not die too soon, leaving me old and alone, he is just pretty F***ing awesome. Let me break it down for you:

 1) He rubs my feet when I have had a crappy day. Even though he hates my socks, he rubs my feet until I am ready to fall asleep on him on the couch. 

2) He knows exactly what I like on my sandwiches. I swear he only saw me make one once, but he must have made a mental note that I like mayo, lettuce and tomato and cheese, because he makes it that way every time without even having to ask what I want. Basically what this translates to is that he pays attention to what I like and what I do not like and that is AWESOME.

3)  He thinks I am beautiful even when I have my sweats on and my hair is in a ponytail and I have no make up on and generally look like a scary monster out of Lord of the Rings.

 Not the cute hobbit...

More like the stupid, fat one.

 4) I get up every morning at 6:30 to get ready for work.  He does not usually have to be to work until the afternoon. He still gets up with me every morning and starts my car for me and makes me a cup of coffee and packs me a lunch. Yes, you read that correctly, he could be sleeping in and instead he gets up to make me a lunch. The other morning he zipped up my sweatshirt for me because "It's chilly outside" before he handed me my lunch and kissed me on the forehead. I almost died right there.

5) We laugh. A whole lot. He is funny and the good news is that he thinks I am funny too. We can be goofy and silly with each other. I don't know about him, but that is something that I am not able to do with many people.

6) He thinks I am smart. I feel about half retarded most of the time and he still thinks I am a smart cookie.  Even when he has to fix my computer for me ;)

7) Have I mentioned that he totally rocks my socks? Yeah. High Five, Babe!!

8) He loves my birds. We even got a new birdy together and he is so good with them.  Boys who are good with animals melt my heart :)

9)  He takes me for rides on his motorcycle and we go fast and it's FUN!  VROOOOOOM!

10) He likes spending time with my family with me. He actually suggested that we invite my parents over for dinner this weekend. Pretty awesome.

11) I don't worry. Not about my relationship with him. I won't lie, I have had my fair share (more than fair) of shitty relationships where I could never truly trust the person I was with. I could never really relax, and let my hair down and just enjoy being in love without worrying about what could be going on behind my back. I can do that now. It's the best feeling in the world.

So I guess if I need to be a Puma to have this relationship, than that is alright with me.
I’m not really sure what I am doing right, but you can bet your bippy that I am going to unknowingly continue to do it!!