reasons to invite me to your party.

1.  I dress super cool: think zebra tee-shirt and camouflage crocs cool.

2.  I will bring solo cups and convince the party host to come up with a make-shift beirut table.

3.  When someone arrives I will shout out a greeting including both their first & last name, even if they have no idea who I am.

4.  Dance parties are awesome and I will make even the most reluctant party attender attempt the 2-step, maybe even the harlem shake.

5.  I will bring my own koozie and proceed to lose it, prompting a scavenger hunt the next day.

driving genius.

Remember that time I drove around for a couple days thinking my steering was messed up and in all actuality I had a flat tire?

I do.

I even remember attempting to put air in said tire and being incapable and having a worker come out, move my car to the garage, so that an elderly man could properly fill it up.

Then I got to work and as I headed down the stairs to the other building to pick up mail I sang to my coworker:

Here's the mail
it never fails
makes me want to wag my tail
when it comes I want to wail
MAAAIIILLL

The best part was as I opened the door with the final note of the Blue's Clues song, an administrator stood there with a huge smirk on his face.

Sigh, I'm so fucking amazing sometimes it's almost scary.

normalcy is over-rated.

I used to attempt to zip my lips when company came over and behave as "normally" as possible.

As I've become comfortable with being the whack-a-doo I am, I no longer sit in silence.

I chat and blabber on....and generally make myself laugh.

By generally, I mean ALL THE TIME.

But I've come to realize that with my endless chatter, I make outsiders more comfortable.

For example my sister brought a boy to the house for the first time I can recall.  Mind you it was for an errand, but regardless, he still was the one who drove her there, 2 hours out of his way.

Anyways, it was not a request, but rather a demand that I be at the house when they arrived.

And I'm quite certain it was because I can sit there, tell ridiculous stories, get chit-chatter going, and make it more comfortable for everyone else present because they can band together and laugh about my absurdities.

I'm cool with that.

liquor me crazy.

Saturday night mayhem is all.

I skipped dinner, I should probs know better by now.

Guzzled down 5 beers at my friends house and then headed to the local bar with her, her BF from Florida, and his friend.  The plan was to meet our friends there.

Sometimes I get loopy crazy when I drink.  Like dance around, be excessively loud, and attract all sorts of attention crazy. 

First re-cap of the night: lime green glow in the dark nail polish, for the win.  Which I obvs made sure to stick my fingernails up into the ceiling light, shout to someone let's go light up a corner at which point I would dart off at top speed to show off my glowing nails in a darkened part of the bar. 

Secondly, I brought my dog to the bar.  I had him with me because I was at my friend's house beforehand and then well, it was late and I didn't want to call around finding him a place to stay while I went and got boozed up.  So, he came to the bars.

After the first bar dizzy-ness, we set off for the next locale.

We all walked in and who was there?  Well, my pretend liquor store boyfriend but of course.

Pretty sure I attempted to tone down my on-speed behavior and have a normal conversation with him - not sure how successful that was.

Anyways, my friends and I then hung out for a bit downstairs having a beer, and being mellow.

Then they decided to head upstairs to the actual bar sitch.

They all headed up leaving me as the last one.

I turned, took a step, my toe caught - and fucking all mighty I took a fucking spill across the concrete floor in front of everyone, liquor store boyfriend included.  My beer rolled away and spilled everywhere as I laid there on the cold, hard floor in front of a crowd, attempting to determine if I in fact broke my hip or knee.

I didn't. 

My friends however, didn't even see this take place unfortunately.  It would have made the embarassing aspect a bit better if I had them to laugh about it with.

Anyways, I kept drinking along, dancing, watching PBR, and generally being silly.

Then we set off for home.

We stopped to drop my friend off and I ran inside real quick to grab a contact container and she pointed out her new pellet stove.  To which I declared, damn that's a sexy stove!  Because that makes sense.

My friend took my keys and I crashed at her house. 

After making out with her BF's friend from Florida.  Because it seemed normal.

I then drove home at 4AM after he woke me back up in an attempt to hook up.

I think it's fucking code that when someone passes out - you leave them passed out.  You do NOT wake them up, and while they are all sorts of in a drunkenly wake-up stupour, attempt to hook up.

Code mother fucking violation.

So I grabbed my keys and drove home.  Leaving my wallet and my dog's collar behind.

3 hours of left alone sleep in my bed sounded delicious.

elevator issues.

Friday night was wine night with two of my friends. 

By wine night I mean I drank an entire bottle of wine, a couple bottles of beer, and with their encouragement proceeded to facebook wall post an absurd amount of things and text like 15 people all at the same time. 

Solid choices.

I went to bed at 2AM and woke up at 6:30AM, laid around feeling like death, and then eventually forced myself to move and made it to my soccer team's team breakfast a half hour late.  At which all the girl's ragged on me (seeing as they are in high school, I'm pretty sure they know I'm a mess).  It was awesome.

I then skipped out of coaching the game (I co-coach you see, so I can do things like that, phew).

I ran home, walked the dog, took a shower, packed up all my bags filled with a ridiculous amount of clothes and shoes, and drove to a photo shoot.

A photo shoot that was set to begin at 1PM.  Seeing as the make-up artist set this up and the photographer was cutting me like a $600 break, I decided to be early (weird).

I arrived at 10 of 1.  I called my sister.

She was due to arrive at 1:30PM (really?!).

I called the make-up artist, no answer.  I tried 3 more times.  Still no answer.

I didn't want to be rude to the photographer so I decided that since I was nearing the point of pants peeing I should head inside this old warehouse, find a bathroom and his studio.

I went in and hopped in the elevator seeing as I knew his studio was on the 4th floor.

Up the elevator went and upon reaching the 4th floor it stopped.  I waited for the doors to open.

Only they didn't open, they just made a noise like they were opening and then closing.

Hm, well ok.  Let's try this again.

So I hit the door open button once more.

Same thing, just noises....no door movement.

I start to mildly panic.

Seriously I'm in an old warehouse turned studio situation and I'm stuck in the elevator.  WTF.

After several minutes of what the hell am I going to do.

I tried the open door button one more time.

This time I realized the doors were opening behind me. 

Like you walk in the elevator, it goes up, and you get out on the other side.

Honestly, I'm like a mother fucking brainiac.

I found the bathroom after wandering around the building and then I found the studio, which was empty.

No photographer, no make-up artist, no sister.

I went and sat in my car and waited.

Eventually everyone arrived and the shoot started at around 2:30PM.

It was a good thing I busted my ass to get there on time.

adventuring is not for ninnies.

So, I figured after all that went astray yesterday, literally what else could happen.  I had a nice hike planned, I was meeting a coworker at the top of the mountain so that I wouldn't have to walk back down in the dark alone (comfort for my Dad), and my dog was ready to go.

I got there a bit late, per usual.  I have a complete inability to ever be on time and being early is impossible.

I saw my coworker's car at the bottom, so I took off for the top.  Literally took off, like ran most of the way.

I got up to the top, saw a couple catching the rest of sunset, but I did not see my coworker.  I figured I must have some how beat him up, no biggie.  I'll take some pics and hang till he gets up here.

Twenty minutes later I get a voicemail (my phone literally never rang, what gives?!).  Hey, I see your Jeep down here.  I already came back down, can't stay, might get called into work.  Sorry.  Have fun.

Awesome.

Alright, oh well.  I'm used to doing my own thing with my sidekick. 

So I set my pack down to grab my sweatshirt out of it.  Yanked my sweatshirt out, completely forgetting that I had a summit beer wrapped up in it.

CRASH.

Glass and beer everywhere. 

Fantastic.  So I spend the next 10 minutes picking up shards of glass because I don't want anyone to get cut up.

While I'm doing this my dog takes ntoe of something nearby.  No biggie, that happens.

Unless it's a fox only a few feet away.

So my dog chases it off.  Now there is a fox running, my dog running, and me running.

Ultimately my dog stopped and I grabbed ahold of his collar.  The fox is going nutter in the woods, like totally barking mad.

I finish up with the glass shards, filling up my koozie.  Then I find a nearby trash can and shake the shards from the koozie into the can. 

See ya later koozie, clearly my grip sucks.

I can't allow this to happen.  More or less say I won't, take off the trash cover and retrieve my koozie and proceed to disinfect it once I get back to my car. 

Anyways, the fireworks shows begin, so I check out a few of the shows, and stay up there for a bit.

Then, I ultimately decide I will head down.  Considering I'm alone, I determine the best option is for me to take the trail through the woods down, the one I know best.

There is a road headed down, but there are other roads that connect with it, several turn options, and overall it just makes me panic. 

I'm more comfortable in the woods.

I grab my headlamp and head down.

I turn on said headlamp.

The batteries have croaked.

Of course they have.

Considering I had no light option besides my cell phone and there was no full moon, the trail with all the rocks and steep slopes was going to have to be out.

Damn it. 

So I headed down the road making sure my dog stayed a specific distance around me in case of any lurkers or animals.

I got down safely. 

Apparently my sense of direction has improved somewhat.

I shouldn't be in charge of my own finances, among other things.

Considering I left my last post with a photo of fireworks and signed off with well wishes for the 4th, you would think it would be safe to assume I wasn't going to post until after the weekend.

Too much happened already.  If I waited until Monday, the post would have been agonizingly long and some of you might have dozed off while reading it.

So instead, here I am on a Saturday evening.

To start off let's discuss bills.  I HATE them (realistically, who doesn't).  The majority of mine are set to automatic pay because otherwise I'm continuously late because I hate bothering with them.

I have propane heat for where I live currently.  This winter was a doozy and I went through an awful lot.  I paid the bills as they came.  And then weirdly the bills kept coming, even after winter was already over.

I was suspicious about how I kept owing more and more despite the fact that I kept paying them.  It got to the point where I wasn't even paying the bill in full, but rather just parts of it each month.

I got a $300 bill from them yesterday.  I was astonished and rather dismayed.

Then I saw the - sign.  WTF does that mean?

I brought the bill to my parents house for an explanation.  Low and behold I have overpaid my bill by $300. 

Really?!  Who thought it was a good idea to think I could be an independent adult?

Sigh.  I'm unsure on whether or not to consider it a savings account with my propane company or request a check back.

This morning I woke up with a plan of enjoy the day, clean like a crazy lady, and hike up a mountain this evening to view fireworks from all over.

It was gorgeous and sunny, so considering it was around 9AM and I was unsure of my true plans I opted to just put on my bikini.  It made the most sense considering the weather.

Then I decided well, I'll just go outside for a bit.

Then, well my dog wants to head down that path.  Let me just grab my crocs.

This meander down the path turned into an hour long hike down by the river in a bikini and crocs.

I suppose it still made sense.  I mean what if I got real hot and needed to cool off?

After I got back, my sister called asking if I wanted a pedicure.  OF COURSE I want a pedicure.  My feet look like they are peeling off from my Nicaragua trip through the jungle in knee high rubber boots with 95 degree heat.

So, I do a quick change head to my parent's house and hop in my sister's car.  I figure I'll be back home in like approx. an hour.

I sit in the pedicure chair the lady looks at my feet.  Are conversation went a bit like follows:

Can I please offer you the complete spa pedicure treatment?

That bad huh?

Yea, they are pretty horrible.  I haven't seen someone's feet this bad in a long time.

Well, uhhh thanks.  I suppose I'll go with give me the works. 

Now I have lovely pastel purple toe-nails and peeling skin free feet.  Let's see how long this lasts.

So we headed for my parent's house. 

As we were outside talking with my brother and his girlfriend a young fox hobbled through the backyard.  It had clearly been hit by a car (you bastards!) and had a leg that was bobbling along.

I pointed out that if we left it there it was going to significantly suffer or someone was going to call animal control, which in town entails an old man with a shot gun.

Obviously it's best chance of survival was if we caught it and I brought it to the wildlife clinic.  Which I had brought an injured red squirrel to about a year ago - and I can only offer positive feedback, seriously they are amazing!

We dragged out an old dog crate, laid down some blankets, aired out my Jeep so it wasn't scorching, and prepared for the catch.

My brother put on his motorcycle jacket, he figured it couldn't bite through that.  My sister grabbed a long stick.  His girlfriend headed the opposite way to help corral the fox.  I spent the time on the phone organizing with the clinic to get someone on the wildlife team in there by the time we got there.

My brother caught him, we loaded him up, draped a sheet over the crate, blasted the a/c, and headed off for an hour drive with a nearly empty tank of gas and a serious need to pee.

I had a serious struggle with driving absurdly slow, avoiding every bump, and seriously making sure we weren't going to crap out of gas on the side of the road.

But alas, we arrived.

We checked him in the crate and he was curled up on the blankets.  So me and my sister each took a side and carefully carried him into the clinic and put him in extremely competent hands. 

After which I tore ass down the hallway to find the bathroom.  Then we hoped in my on "e" car and drove off in search of a nearby gas station.

So my easy-breezy day turned into a flippin' nutter of a day.  Per usual I suppose.

Anyways, now I'm off to hike up a mountain and catch some fireworks from afar with my dog.

Think some positive thoughts for the fox, he was in real rough shape.