Is she a superhero or a cult member? Who can say for sure?

Jules from GoGuiltyPleasures.com is the bee’s knees y’all. She sent me two slap bracelets for my birthday/as an act of consummation of our blogging friendship. When I received the envelope with the slap bracelets in them, I was delighted. Mostly because it had awesome stickers on it. Jules really gets me.

When I opened the envelope not only had Jules sent me TWO slap bracelets, she had also hand-written me a note because she has an appreciation for the written word. Especially when the word is written on hot pink paper. But, before I even read the hot pink note, I slapped the two hot pink slap bracelets on my wrists. Immediately, I was filled with a sense of belonging and power. I think those feelings mean that upon putting on those slap bracelets, I either became a super-hero or I joined a cult led by Jules. Frankly, I hope it’s the latter because being a super-hero would involve a lot of pressure and being a part of Jules’ cult would probably just involve drinking and dressing animals up like other animals.

Of course, then I read the hot pink letter where Jules clearly states that one of the slap bracelets was meant for Captain Thoughtful. Ummm…no. C’mon Jules, you know me better than that. I’m keeping them both. Captain Thoughtful totally understands. I mean, at least it seemed like that’s what he said through his tears.

THANK YOU JULES!!!! I can’t wait for our first cult meeting/happy hour!

Lincoln has an awesome state capital building but no CCB.

My quest has officially begun. No Taco Bell will go….unturned?….uncovered?…..un….I’m not really sure what word applies here, but suffice it to say I’ll be visting a lot of Taco Bells in the next year, and so will Captain Thoughtful because he is very supportive of this quest and also has a giant appetite.

Last weekend I visited the Taco Bell in the Dallas-Ft. Worth Airport. No luck. They didn’t even have the full menu, much less the fabled and elusive Chili Cheese Burrito (or CCB as I will call if from now on due to my typing laziness.) So, that was disappointing. However, quests aren’t mean to be easy so I continued on with high hopes and a growling tummy.

My next stop in the quest was Nebraska. Specifically, Lincoln. There was a Taco Bell less than a mile from our hotel and I immediately had a very good feeling about it. We stopped by after a late night and pulled up to the drive-thru, my heart was pounding as I perused the burrito menu….and……nothing. I mean, they had burritos, but they didn’t have THE burrito, the one burrito to rule them all. You let me down Lincoln, Nebraska Taco Bell.

Later, upon further introspection I realized the “good feeling” I had about the Lincoln Taco Bell could probably have been better classified as “hunger”. I’m going to have to watch out for that in the future.

The quest continues.

Also, it has been suggested that I could just find the recipe and make the CCB for myself but that is obviously the cowards way out of a quest and I’m no coward. Stop making logical suggestions like this to me immediately. They offend my sensibility.

This does look a bit suspicious….

When you date a Professor of Geography, you learn a lot of things. For instance, you learn that the band Journey was probably just a cover for serial killers. Captain Thoughtful (or should I say Professor Captain Thoughtful?) clued me on this one day when I was singing along (loudly) to “Don’t Stop Believing”.

 Me: Just a city boy, born and raised in South Detroit…

 Professor Captain Thoughtful: Did you know there is no such place as South Detroit? It’s just Lake Erie.

 Me: Thanks for ruining the moment.

Later, as I was pondering on why Professor Captain Thoughtful would want to hurt me by questioning Journey lyrics, it occurred to me that he was right. (I may have looked at a map). But that he totally didn’t even realize that hundreds of thousands of people have probably drowned in Lake Erie looking for “South Detroit”.  Then I wondered why I hadn’t heard of any PSAs about how “South Detroit” isn’t a place and that if you go looking for it and aren’t a strong swimmer you are totally going to drown in Lake Erie, and why in the world had Journey not released another song clarifying that “South Detroit” is really Lake Erie? Slowly, it occurred to me that Journey wanted people to keep making that mistake and drowning in Lake Erie, because they are ACTUALLY SERIAL KILLERS.  This is there signature kill, and it’s really the perfect cover because no one would ever suspect them. Journey may be the most prolific serial killers in history.

Last Sunday I visited the Henry Doorly Zoo and Aquarium in Omaha, Nebraska. It was all kinds of awesome. I love a good zoo and this my friends, was a good zoo. Except for the part where Captain Thoughtful and I were almost murdered by a gorilla.

You know those glass bubble thingamagigs they have at zoos where you can kind of feel like you’re in the habitat with the animals but you are still protected by reinforced plastic? I call them bubble windows and I’ve always thought they were pretty neat. I don’t anymore. Now, I think they are an excellent way to get murdered by a Gorilla. Which, as deaths go, sounds pretty cool but probably hurts a lot, although it still better than being murdered by an armadillo.

Captain Thoughtful and I were sitting in one of those bubble windows looking right into the eyes of a giant and beautiful silverback gorilla. I tried to communicate with him through positive and calm vibes. Surely, this majestic creature could tell that I was very appreciative of his strength and grace and that I only wanted to sit and watch him for a while. Perhaps though, gorillas don’t communicate through vibes because not more than 2 seconds later he stood to his full height and started banging with all his strength (which is a lot) on the bubble window right where our heads were. I didn’t make a noise, I just jumped up and walked away quickly leaving Captain Thoughtful to fend for himself against and a very perturbed gorilla. Maybe I’m not the person you want standing next to you in a gorilla attack.

Of course, we were completely safe. Really, truly, nothing to fear, kind of safe. But when a massive gorilla is making every attempt to crush your skull with his fist, you kind of forget about how “safe” you are and more about how quickly you need to get away from that super angry gorilla who clearly has murder on his mind. Captain Thoughtful was totally cool about it though, he just sat there calmly and watched the gorilla walk away, which was impressive, but even more impressive was that he let me tell a bunch of people that a gorilla tried to murder us at the zoo without even correcting me or implying that I might be over-exaggerating. That guy is a keeper y’all.

Later, after my heart resumed it’s normal rhythms (it beats in time to the Bee Gees “Staying Alive”)  I was able to disassociate myself from what happened enough to realize that the gorilla probably just needed anger management classes.

The end is nie!! It’s nie!!! How do I know? I know because many many people have found their way to my blog this week via the search term “I farted cats”. People are literally farting cats! Why isn’t this being covered by the news? Is there some kind of worldwide cover up? We need the truth people! There may or may not be a pandemic causing human beings to fart cats.

Or, you know, people are just searching “I farted cats” for fun. Either way, I think it’s pretty clear that the end is nie. Touchè Mayans, you really knew what you were talking about.

Updated: Yes, I know it’s “nigh” not “nie” but I’m not going to change it. So there.

I turned 27 on Monday. (That means my birthday is May 14 and you should all write that down and send me things like slap bracelets and chia pets and strange things that may be cursed that you find at antique malls.) 27 seems like the perfect year to undertake a quest. It’s totally a questing year. There was no question as to what my quest would be, there is a thing that I loved and lost when I was 11, it is very clear to me now in my 27th year that I must find that thing again. That thing is a Taco Bell Chili Cheese Burrito.

There are no Taco Bells in the Austin area that serve the chili cheese burrito, but they used to, oh yes, they used to. And I used to feast on this most simple and most delicious of burritos and then suddenly one day they were gone. I have craved them ever since but never been able to satisfy that craving. However, this is my 27th year and my craving will be satisfied! I have heard tales of chili cheese burritos at other Taco Bells, Taco Bells in far away places called “Ft. Lauderdale” and “Columbus”, I will endeavor to travel to these places and seek what is rightfully mine- a long loved and long lost burrito. I may even have two.

Let the great burrito quest of my 27th year commence!!

Not to brag or anything, but I’m also on another quest to find the best BBQ in Central Texas. Yes, that’s TWO quests that I’m on. I have very high expectations for my 27th year, very high indeed.

You guys, do NOT take The Bloggess’ book “Let’s Pretend This Never Happened” to a graduation ceremony. I am dead serious about this. This might be the best advice I’ve ever given and you should definitely take it to heart.

I know this is good advice, because I did the opposite of it at my cousin’s graduation on Saturday. I took The Bloggess’ book and I read it and I learned an important lesson, which is I should have probably brought a different book to graduation. Maybe one that made me all weepy or introspective of something. What I definitely shouldn’t have done was bring a book that is funny as hell and twice as curse-word laden. And I especially shouldn’t have started reading that book when the President of the University began his speech because while I was trying to stifle my laughter at this exceptionally well written and extraordinarily funny book, the President of the University was talking about struggle, and the Civil Rights movement, and perseverance.

Basically, my laughter made everyone around me think I was a lazy racist. Which, I’m not just for the record. I’m just a girl who chose the wrong moment to start reading a hysterical book written by one of her blogging idols.

Learn from my mistakes friends. Don’t let the world think you’re a lazy racist. Take something a bit more serious to read during your friend’s and family’s graduation ceremonies.

She said it all.

I wonder why we don’t say “forsooth” more often. It’s so deliciously snarky. According to Le Dictionary, it’s “used to give an ironic politeness to questions”. For real y’all. Ironic politeness. That’s a thing and that’s a thing I need to make more use of.

For example, next time one of my friends starts dating a guy I think is a douche-canoe, I can say something like “Forsooth, I think he is swell.” And they will think I’m being nice when I’m really saying he is a Jerky McJerkerson. It’s ironic politeness because social conventions dictates that I have to be cordial because my friend likes him, but my inner truth dictates that I despise the very sight of him. “Forsooth allows me to maintain my borderline socially acceptable behavior and keep my inner truth happy.   Boom! Girl on the Contrary for the win.

I feel like this “forsooth” thing is really going to work out well for me, prepare yourselves for excessive amounts of ironic politeness. Also, I may occasionally use it as a substitute curse word. For example, if I were to drop a heavy book on my toe, I would say “FORSOOTH!”, or if I found out that someone was talking mad trash about me I could say “She’s a forsoothing forsoother.” Man, this word is a gold mine!

Women who enjoy conversation while dancing are careless? Ok. Fine. Consider me careless because I think it’s a little weird not to say something when you’re dancing. I mean, you’re just like swaying around and there are lots of other people sort of swaying around in your vicinity. A little talking, maybe a little hypocritical mocking of other people’s dance skills, really improves the moment if you ask me.

I can’t believe no one ever told me that everything I like and am interested in is boring and that the only things in life worth talking about are things that men want to talk about.  I guess public school really let me down on that one because I  think I’m interesting as hell.

Not so. I get super duper extra clever when I’ve had too much to drink. Like, the kind of clever people wish they were. I’m the cleverest drunk there ever was. Ever. And for the record, cleverness is just silliness with a tuxedo on.

How are men supposed to know you like them if you don’t tug on their ear?

Um, I’m not a robot ok? I’m a real human person who has feelings and maybe gets a little choked up when ordering lobster because lobsters mate for life and I am probably breaking up a very happy couple by eating one. Also, I just found out lobsters don’t actually mate for life and that makes me sad too.

Oh man. Look at that guy looking at that girl with floppy boobs. He is disgusted. Obviously, men hate boobies and want them locked up in a boob jail aka a bra at all times.

Conclusion: 1938 was not a great year for dating advice.