Did Y’all Know Dogs Like Pumpkin? 

Because I didn’t. I didn’t know dogs like pumpkin. At least, my dog, Dobby, likes pumpkin.

Check it – Captain Thoughtful and I went to a pumpkin patch to pick our own pumpkins  (like bosses) and we picked the two cutest pumpkins in the whole freaking patch. Check the cute: 

I’m pretty sure people were jealous of that adorable dark green pumpkin we picked. And, it only cost $1 so it was a hella frugal Halloween purchase. Adorable and affordable. Alas, poor pumpkin! Your cuteness was all too temporary because of an even cuter universal force – Dobby aka the pumpkin destroyer.

Anyway, I didn’t know dogs even liked pumpkins. 

For the record, Dobby was fine and didn’t even get a stomachache and also showed no remorse and so is most likely a pumpkin hungry psychopath. 

Why I Floss

When I was 12, I read a book about Queen Hatshepsut, Egypt’s first female Pharaoh. In that book, it was hypothesized that she died due to an infection from an abscessed tooth. I was irrationally upset at the thought that a lack of dental care interrupted her reign and her life so I vowed then and there to take very good care of my teeth. I have flossed everyday since then.

Recently, I have been revisiting my love of Egyptology and have been reading updated research on Queen Hatshepsut. Turns out, it probably wasn’t an abscess tooth that caused her death.

Long story short, I have been flossing for nothing.

Girl On The Contrary, Sleeps On Her Side.

Nobel Peace Prize

I was thinking the other day about how doctors get to say “Hi my name is Doctor McDoctorson, M.D.” or “My name is Doctor McDoctorson, Ph.D.” or rich people get to say “My name is Richy McRicherson, Esquire.” And I was thinking it might be really cool if everyone got to have a title but it was just something factual about their life instead of some kind of accolade. Also, I think doing it that way would really go a long way in solving the have v. have-not situation. I mean, obviously it wouldn’t solve the entire problem but it would be like a really good starting place. It’s the perfect mix of individualism and communism because everyone get their very own unique title but no one’s title is necessarily better than anyone else’s. I expect the government to be contacting me about this shortly. In the meantime, here are a few titles I’m thinking of for myself.

Girl on the Contrary, sleeps on her side.

Girl on the Contrary, likes watermelon.

Girl on the Contrary, flosses regularly.

Girl on the Contrary, gives lots of high-fives.

Girl on the Contrary, likes jelly beans.

Girl on the Contrary, tells jokes.

Girl on the Contrary, sings showtunes in the morning.

For real this time, I’m like 97% sure this idea is going to earn me a Nobel peace prize. But don’t worry, even after I win that prestigious award, I’ll still just be Girl on the Contrary, sleeps on her side. (And also she won a Nobel peace prize).

What would you like your title to be?

Up Yours, One-Uppers!

You know them. You loathe them. We all do.

They are the One-Uppers. They are those that always have a better story, a worse sickness, a better car, a better haircut, a harder work assignment, a sexier lover, a whatever it takes to one-up whatever it is you have. They suck. Not because you suspect they are liars and not because they are constantly trying to outdo you but because they are annoying as hell. And why are they annoying? Because they are most likely liars and they are always trying to outdo you. It’s a vicious cycle. But you can’t avoid them because THEY ARE EVERYWHERE. Which has led me to believe that they are aliens that are slowly but surely invading our planet and posing as humans in order to vanquish the human species through sheer annoyance. ALIENS.

Well I got you figured out you stupid aliens. And I’m not going down without a fight. I declare WAR on you One-Uppers (I assume the name of your home planet is Oneupperus). That’s right. WAR. But it’s going down non-violently. I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of unleashing a large can of whoop-ass on you (because I assume, given your record, that you have a keg of whoop-ass which would be much larger than my can). I plan on doing this the Contrary way. By making you laugh so hard you pee yourselves and then are shamed (you know, because you peed yourself) into leaving this planet. Also- when you bait me with your one-uppityness I will not get annoyed, I will merely give you a look of pity because, hey alien, I see your game for what it is. I’m no fool. And don’t think I’m not going to “out” you to the world. Every single time you try to play the one-up card, I am going to respond by saying “Are you an alien?” BOOM. I just rocked your world. Now you are going to have to flee back to Oneupperus because I got everyone thinking about how you probably are an alien. BOOM BOOM. Look at me dropping truth bombs on you. In. Your. Faces. (Plural because I’m pretty sure you have more than one face…….WAIT……..are you in cahoots with the two-faces? Awww man- this war just got all kinds of inter-galactic)

In conclusion, you have been found out. And because my war on you isn’t violent, but I will still be saving my beloved planet Earth, I’m pretty sure I’m going to get like 100 Nobel Peace Prizes. Also, I’m going to write a book about our war and then I will win a Nobel Prize for Literature. One-up that suckas!!!!

“Someday I’ll Have It All” Delusion

Kings of Leon Because of the Times
Epiphany+Kings of Leon+Perfect Imagery=Having it "All"

I woke up over the weekend. I woke up to the fact that I have been deluded. Actually, I didn’t wake up to it- I just said that to make it dramatic. The truth is I was laying on a massage table getting the knots in my back worked out. Anyway, all of the sudden, I became incredibly aware that I have been living under a delusion. The reason I became aware of living under a delusion was because the thought “Someday, I’ll have it all.” crossed my mind. WHAT? Who told me that? Why in the world should I “have it all”? And, more importantly, what is the “all”?

LIGHTBULB.

Listen, it’s been an incredibly difficult week for me. And for the first time, the thought “Someday I’ll have it all” didn’t make it better. I realized um, hello, I probably won’t ever have it all. There will always be worries and frustrations and struggles. There will also always be laughter and smiles and winks. Maybe that’s what the “all” is. It’s everything. It’s the good, bad, and unimaginable. And we already have that. We always have that. So, there isn’t necessarily a “someday” there is a yesterday, today, and tomorrow- and they are filled with the “all”. Sure, there will be times when life is a suckfest. There will also be times when your life seems like day after day of bliss. It’s all the “all”. True story. You should listen to me because I had an existential crisis on a massage table- so you know, that’s like, legit.

Like I said, the thought “Someday I’ll have it all” didn’t make me feel better. But all the other thoughts after it did make me feel better. And maybe it should have had the opposite effect but I don’t think I need to remind you that I’m contrary. I have sort of odd and nonsensical responses to things. So, you know what? I’m going into today knowing that I have it “all”. Whether this day is good or bad or I get kidnapped or win the lottery (which would be weird because I don’t play the lottery) I had it “all” today. All the experience life could offer me today- I had it.

Anyone else ever had an epiphany on a massage table? Actually….don’t answer that, I feel like it could get inappropriate. Just tell me if you’ve realized anything about life lately- I don’t care where it happened.

Cheers to having it “all”! (If you have read this post today you should know what I mean by “all”. If you didn’t read this post, then you probably think I’m just being really cheerful and optimistic. So, either way, I think I look pretty good.)

My Grocery Store Is Haunted.

ghosts
I imagine they look something like this.

The following account is completely true. (In my opinion)

My company’s Thanksgiving potluck lunch is today. So, I spent yesterday baking pumpkin cupcakes and apple pie. This story is not about that. It’s about what happened when I went to the grocery store to buy all the baking supplies I needed. It was a blistery night. The stars at night were big and bright (clap clap clap clap deep in the heart of Texas. – You might only get this if you’re from Texas. If you aren’t from Texas then just keep reading and accept there are some things you will never understand about this blog). I was at the grocery store late to avoid the crowds. Little did I know, I wasn’t alone.

Actually, I knew I wasn’t alone because, duh, I was at a grocery store. But that sounded more ominous than “there were at least 2o other people there, oh and also some ghosts.”

The ghosts were waiting for me. Waiting to turn my night into a confusing nightmare. I walked in the store with my grocery list in hand. Somehow, I suspect it was the ghosts, time sped up and I found myself in an aisle completely alone and without a grocery list. Panic took over. My entire 2 hours with that list flashed before my eyes and I couldn’t help but reminisce about the time in the fruit aisle when that list saved me from buying only 4 apples when I needed 8. Desperately, I searched for my list. It wasn’t in any of the usual places, my purse, my pockets, my shoe. I paced up and down every aisle, looking for where I might have accidently set my list down and walked away from it. How could I have taken such advantage of it? Why did I have to lose it to appreciate it? Then I realized, something else was afoot. I’m not usually that forgetful. Never before have I lost a list. I stopped right where I was and, like Sherlock Holmes, used my logic to solve the mystery of the kidnapped list. The answer was so simple. Ghosts.

There was no other explanation. It had to be ghosts. But what had I done to offend them? How could I contact them to discuss the return of my beloved list? Apparently, they weren’t in the mood to communicate because no matter what I did, no matter how many times I screamed out loud, or spoke in tongues, or did the “We need to talk” dance, they wouldn’t answer. I’m only left with one conclusion. The ghosts who haunt my grocery store are the ghosts of former hooligans who take the greatest pleasure in tomfoolery. My guess is that the grocery store was built on some kind of graveyard that was reserved for hooligans. Way to think ahead grocers. Everyone knows you don’t build things on graveyards.

What else could I do but continue shopping and leave my list behind never to be seen again? I had to move on with my life. If the situation was reversed I would want the list to move on. The hooligan ghosts win this time. I have a game plan for next time though and without going into too much detail- it involves slingshots as peace offerings.

I share the story to warn you of the dangers of grocery store hooligan ghosts. No one seems to have ever talked about them before, and I can only assume that is because people are afraid. Well, I’m not. I want the world to know that grocery store hooligan ghosts exist. I’m like a crusader (except this isn’t religious and I certainly won’t be killing anyone). I am the Norma Rae of the grocery store hooligan ghost industry. You’ve been warned. Tell your friends.

Wordle To Your Mother.

Get it? It was a play on the saying “word to your Mother”. I learned that phrase from Vanilla Ice although I’m pretty sure he didn’t come up with it.

I digress. This post is about Wordle. Because I love it. And it reveals stuff to you, like a fortune teller, except it isn’t anything like a fortune teller. I use it for work quite a bit and for inspiration in writing all the time. I love Wordle. You should too. Because I said so. Also, because it’s brilliant.

I took all my most popular posts and copied and pasted them into the magic Wordle machine and this is what it revealed to me:

WordleAccording to Wordle, I talk about my Grammy a lot. And Wordle is correct, because there is a Grammy post coming this week as it so happens.

According to Wordle, I say “like” a lot. Touche, Wordle. Right again.

According to Wordle, I ask the question “really?” a lot. Really?

According to Wordle, I talk quite a bit about people. I do indeed and I’m glad to see that Wordle recognizes my selfless need to help people and protect them from awkward moments, flirtation failures, and men in women’s restrooms. Clearly, I am practically a living saint who uses the power of the interweb to spread her message of hope and sage advice. I never realized how good of a person I was until Wordle told me. I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s what it’s trying to say. Thanks Wordle.

According to Wordle I am only moderately concerned with all things “awkward”. You may have gotten this one wrong Wordle because I am almost entirely consumed with awkward things. My life is like a walking tour of awkward-ville. True story.

According to Wordle, I talk about Mondays quite a bit. I hate Mondays. Unless they are holidays, in which case, they are fine. I think Wordle is trying to tell me to give Mondays a chance, and also, stop talking about them because people are getting real sick of hearing about it. I appreciate Wordle’s honesty.

I’m surprised not to see the word “douche bag” in this. But then again, I didn’t use all my posts to create this, just my most popular ones. I can deduce from this that people don’t want to hear about douche-bags. Too bad guys, because I find douche bags too amusing not to write about them.

I love Wordle, I think it’s brilliant, and amusing, and completely diverting. There are lots of fonts and layouts and colors to choose from and I could literally spend all day on Wordle. Word clouds are fun. Seriously. I have found Wordle to be an absolute gem when it comes to helping me get inspired by my writing. When I’ve written quite a bit, I just copy and paste it into Wordle and see what words I’m using most. It really helps target my writing and has yet to fail in giving me a little boost in writing energy. You can also enter in any website or blog that has an RSS feed and it will create a lovely little picture of your words (although I think it only does the first page of your blog because when I did this “zombies” and “candy” were by far my largest words- which is awesome but not entirely accurate if you take the whole blog into account so I really think it just does the first page.) I encourage you, nay, I demand that you all Wordle right now!!! I really think you will like it, especially if you’re a writer or blogger or both. Or just a person who likes pretty colors.

Today’s Lesson: You should Wordle. Your Mother should Wordle. End of story.