Thursday, April 25, 2013

[Insert Clever Title About A Rather Boring Throwback]

Hi Internet.
Remember me?
You know, that broad who was going to post a throwback every Thursday.
And then started sucking at it?

Oh well.  It is what it is, right?  Last week I was practically drowning in a pool or my own snot, and was way too busy bitching at my husband about how I was going to die to even bother blogging.  

And now it's after ten o'clock, and I have to work at 6 in the dang morning.  Because that's a time.  But because I already left you hangin' last week, I figured I'd make up for it by sharing a couple throwback stories.  Because those are fun.  Or in my case, totally disturbing.

The 'lepercon' was dead in the drink.  Bet you didn't see that one coming.

And then we have, "The Birthday Without Presents".  Because that doesn't give away the entire story at all.

So, "Amy" might need some therapy.  And a freakin' Easy Bake Oven.
At least no one died.  In a drink.

Bonus "Story":

Yeah.  So there's that.  And normally I'd spend more than 5 minutes on a blog post, but I'm craving some serious sleep.  Because I'm 800 years old.

Plus, what else is there to say?  Except that I was a weird ass kid who sucked at stories.

'Night, yo.  
(Also?  I've started another actual post.  It's in my drafts.  Pinky swear.)

Thursday, April 11, 2013

I'm a Snowflake, Dammit.

Hi Internet.

So it just occurred to me that I haven't done a throwback yet.  I know the anticipation is thick after the gems I gave you last week.  (Seriously, how am I ever going to top: "Sorry that I threw corn."?)  But alas, blogging on a consistent basis is apparently not my thing.  Instead, I got sucked into working on our budget.   

I know.

But, in my defense, this was after I found out that we didn't get that IVF grant we applied for back in February.  The one I was really hoping we had a shot at.  So, with our baby savings being more or less depleted, compliments of the government and the University of $#@%@#$!$#@%@#ing Utah, I started to panic and crunch numbers again.

I'm pretty bummed out that this whole savingforababy thing isn't going the way I would have liked it to.  Hell, I'm pretty bummed that we even have to "save for a baby".  But that's depressing, and I'm tired of being sad today.  So, instead of droning on about my completely ridiculous inability to create life, we're going to talk about some of the things I can do, and why I'm awesome.

According to younger me, of course.

Well, at least we know I've runned before.  (NotReallyRelated: My cursive still looks just about the same now as it did 15 years ago.)

Guys, I was really impressed with my front flip skills, in case you haven't noticed.  Also, every time I used to do a back bend in gymnastics class, I'd fart.  Every. time.  And not some silent, cute, little girl fart.  These were big, beefy, man farts.  It may have been the most mortifying thing on the planet, and I definitely got made fun of, but it didn't matter... Cause I could do a back bend.  

Okay, Chels.  Drawing?        ....notsomuch...

Yeah!  No one can color like me.  Take that.

 "I think I share well, but not that good."      <--- That.

Moral?  For every part of you that's broken, there's at least five more things about you that aren't.
You know, like your coloring and front flip skills.

Peace and blessings, Internet. 

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Yeah, This One Is Embarrassing.

So, you know how I'm constantly talking about all my epic meltdowns? And my hanger-induced wall rages?  Well, as it would turn out, it's not completely because of hunger or my 800 million imbalanced hormones.  

It's because...   


...I've been a giant drama queen since pretty much ever.  

What an adorable, giant ray of sunshine.

I'd like to think that's hard for people to believe, but well, let's be honest - it's not.  I've been mastering the art of throwing epic tantrums for many moons.  And I've had some doozies in my lifetime.  I'm talking like, 3 hour long sobbing/screaming/snotting/hyperventilating/throwing things across the room fits.  Stuff that was so epic my parents would record it.  I like to think I composed myself a little bit better as I got older.  I remember the first time I ever screamed at my parents that I was "so pissed off!"  I felt like such a sophisticated, badass for using the word 'piss' in front of them when I was only like, 11.  And you know I must have thought that was a really bad word back then - because I also thought bikini was a bad word.  Yeah, don't ask.  Needless to say my parents didn't react quite like I had expected them to.  

Aaaaand I digress.

The short story is, I'd get mad/sad/raging hot postal over some really absurd things when I was younger.  I was reminded of some of those ridiculous things when I came across a paper titled "Why I Am Sad and Angry".  On this paper, my mom had written on both sides, reasons that I had told her I was feeling grumpy.  It was when I was about 8 or 9ish years old, and it likely happened after one of my signature tantrums, and it's very likely that I hated every single minute of it.  

 So anyways, for today's throwback - because I apparently enjoy embarrassing myself to death - you're going to get a teeny tiny glimpse of the eternally premenstrual child my parents had the pleasure of raising.   

(I'm pretty sure my favorite one on this one is the, "I'm mad that I am mad."  And that I didn't get ice cream from the ice cream man.  My life was hard.)

Aaaaand it goes on.

Not only did I not get ice cream, but I didn't get American Girl stuff and roller blades?!  The horror.  And paying the library $8 bucks is a legit thing to be upset about at that age.  (Now it's that I have to pay the government $4,000.  By next week.  True story.  *Whimper*)  Also, note the colorful stains on the page.  Those are my tears.  My rainbow tears.  (Or a really delicious popsicle.) 

Moving on....

Don't I sound like the biggest brat on planet Earth?  Not to mention I make my family sound like a bunch of monsters who ignored me.  (Which, by the way, was so not the case.)  

So embarrassing and so ridiculous on so many levels.  

But one thing that little exercise with my mom did do, is teach me that I can express my feelings by writing.  So now when I'm feeling sad and angry, I write about it - well, unless I'm too busy kicking holes in walls - but most of the time, I'll write.  (Thanks Mom!)  And because I'm feeling extra airoutmydirtylaundry-ish today.  I've got a good example of my write-my-feelings-down skills for you.  It's a journal entry from when I was a big, bad 13 year old.  And I'm pretty sure my favorite part is that it comes with a key for my emotions at the top.

So, clearly I'm a Jedi Master of blowing things way out of proportion.  If only my 13 year-old self knew how much I don't shower now.  And by my own choice, even.  *Gasp*

The good news is that I have wonderful, loving parents who would talk me through my grump-fests -and I'd always end up in a better mood after talking it out with them.  

So when I say I hope my kids take more after Shawn's calm, level-headed, peaceful nature, I'm so not joking.  Can you imagine me having to put up with a mini me?  


What kind of stuff did you throw tantrums about?  
(Because I cannot be the most ridiculous person on the internet.)