How to Break Glass

Today my friend made me go to a stained glass class. She said it was my idea, but I am pretty sure it was hers. Okay, I AM the one that signed us up, but I am pretty sure she said something about wanting to handle shards of glass with her bare hands. To start us off, the guy who owns the studio, henceforth referred to as “Glass Guy” picks up a panel of glass, describes its inherent glass-like qualities, and says, “Don’t hold it over your head. You will drop it and slice your skull in half.”

“Oh good,” I think, “A death hobby… just what I always wanted.”

These are the panels of glass you do NOT want to be holding over your head. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

After a very long diatribe of the different types of glass we should NEVER use because they are expensive and hard to cut and we have NO idea what we are doing, Glass Guy starts demonstrating the technique for creating a work of art in stained glass. Creating stained glass art turns out to be a little less dignified than I had imagined. It essentially amounts to breaking glass. Okay, the guy did explain he was influencing the glass, but really he was just breaking it.

In case you are interested in creating art, or in controlled vandalism, I will describe for you the steps in making a stained glass piece. First, you make a Mission Impossible style cut in the glass, like you are escaping enemy spies by slicing your way out of a plate glass window. However, the glass cutter doesn’t look like it can actually cut anything. It is more of a glass scraper. Glass Guy demonstrates proper technique by running the tool across the surface of the glass, creating a sound much like fingernails screeching along a chalkboard. He says it is important to apply about 12 pounds of pressure, adding that you can practice on your bathroom scale. He looks busy with his little glass scraper, so I don’t explain to him that I did NOT take this class so I could spend the day with my hands on a bathroom scale.

Then, something incredible happens. I am thinking for sure this panel of shards is about to go shattering everywhere. In fact, I have demonstrated my firm belief of that possibility by moving as far away from the glass wielding man as possible. I hold my breath as Glass Guy grasps the panel with his bare hands, pulls a bit… and snaps it cleanly in half. I’m amazed.

After describing how to not cut off your fingers while breaking shards of glass with your bare hands, Glass Guy proceeds to demonstrate several breaking and shattering techniques, including an impressive move with a tiny hammer that I was positive almost put out an eye.

After the demonstration, he begins the supply list. One of the main aspects of this list is a huge board with other boards nailed or attached to sides of it at right angles. He holds up the huge thing in both hands to demonstrate what the final product should look like. To anyone else, creating this board contraption might be within the realm of possibility, but not for me. I will not be going to the hardware store to obtain or cut wood. I don’t care how simple YOU think that is, it is incredibly complicated for me. Look, I know there is wood at a place somewhere, so getting a slice of wood is not the issue. You see, there are other sections of wood CUSTOM CUT to the first slice of wood. So even if I can find one slice of wood, how do I get the other ones to be the right size? Supposing, by some miracle, I get that far… what are those things holding all that crap together? Screws? Nails? Forget it… I’m out.

After noticing my obvious distress about the board-thing, or perhaps, noticing how my obvious distress is holding up his ability to get his class through the supply list, Glass Guy tells me he will make me one personally. He tells me that I can bring him $11.50 and he will have a board-thing all ready for me. While $11.50 seems an odd price for a bunch of wood nailed together, I am all about throwing money at the problem and readily agree to this solution. I consider asking if I can pay extra to have him paint it for me, as it would be fun to have a nicer board-thing than everyone else in the class.

Glad to have the wooden contraption dilemma behind us, I listen as Glass Guy begins describing the inherent dangers of soldering irons. This one, he holds up an example, you can get for $95. I look at it, impressed. Surely for that price, this thing might not kill me. Then, he begins telling us how this particular model can get too hot and melt or it might just skip the melting and explode. I begin wondering how much it is going to cost me to not explode. He then tells us, that we don’t have to run out and buy soldering irons. He says that we can simply bring the ones we have sitting around at home, along with any extra solder. Great… I thought we already established I don’t have stuff like that lying around. I don’t have plywood, and I definitely don’t have solder. Although, I can’t be too sure, because I haven’t checked the back of the fridge lately… there could conceivably be solder.

At that point, something happens that I least expect… (things are always happening when I least expect them). My friend states to Glass Guy that SHE has 3 or 4 soldering irons and wants to know if she can bring them in. I am about to give her an incredulous stare and say, “Who ARE you???” Instead, I pull myself together and ask her if I could borrow one. If I am going to be holding a device that can kill me, at least I won’t have spent $95 for it.

At long last, and with great anticipation (if by anticipation you mean dread) we finally get to cut something. I mean influence the glass. Fine, I mean break stuff. I am a little apprehensive about breaking panels of glass with my bare hands.

The glass can sense fear, apparently. Who knew?

The fact that Glass Guy has dumped an industrial size box of Band-Aids on our table does NOT instill me with confidence. I’m halfway pissed off that he felt the need to put the crate of Band-Aids on OUR table, and halfway grateful that I won’t have to bleed that far, so I decide not to give him a hard time about it.

The Band-Aids

Glass Guy hands out panels of clear, non-tempered** glass, and some glass cutters and we are on our way. I make a feeble scrape across the glass and look at it unconvincingly. I must be using way less than 12 pounds of pressure. Where is a bathroom scale when you need one? I press a little harder. This time, I am rewarded with a faint screeching sound.

Okay… step two… breaking glass with your bare hands. I take a moment to admire the unscarred nature of my hands, take a deep breath, and then… snap. The glass gives way easily, dividing neatly into two pieces precisely along my cut. I was expecting an inordinate struggle, but the glass was cooperating with me. I almost cry.

This sudden snap in the glass is the only thing that has felt like home to me in days. With glass, there is no uncertainty, no life altering realizations, no thinking in circles. With glass, there is only a score and a snap. I relish the solidity, the feeling of clarity, the very act of working towards something tangible… scoring and snapping puts my mind at ease. With single-minded purpose, I plan, and score, and snap. The surface area of the glass quickly shrinks. Glass Guy, looking a bit surprised, or maybe pleased, brings me more panels.

I almost finished the pattern that Glass Guy gave us to practice with. These shards of glass can either function as art, or zombie weapons. They are quite handy.

Maybe I’m not doomed after all, at least not today. I’ll let you know for sure when I’m wielding the ancient soldering iron my friend remembered she had somewhere in a closet.

Your shirt for the day… I thought you would enjoy wearing something that makes completely no sense out of context.

Side Note:

**It is very important to ONLY use non-tempered glass. Otherwise, you will be driving down the highway and a huge storefront window will come loose from the truck ahead of you, fly up into the air, and explode over your head. Don’t look at me, this came straight from Glass Guy. The world is a dangerous place.

How to Find a Lost Dog

Nothing seemed strange at first when we walked into our house on the day we lost our dog. We were so caught up in the bustle of arriving home, throwing down backpacks and getting snacks, we didn’t notice the lack of a huge black dog greeting us eagerly at the door. I’m in the middle of worrying about what I will make for dinner and if we have hamburger for Hamburger Helper when my son looks around and says two words that make my heart sink, “Where’s Harley?” That is when the eerie silence of the house pressed in. Where IS Harley?

We called, she didn’t come. “Maybe she is outside,” I say. I’m doubtful, but trying to stay calm.  Then, we saw it. The gate hanging wide open. We call her name again. She doesn’t come. That is when it happened. The worst sound I have ever heard, my son’s heart-broken ragged sobs. “She’s gone!” he says through his tears. “She is never coming back.” Then, he yells for her, his voice broken with his sobs and shrill in its desperation, “Haaarleey! Haaarleey come baaack!”

We decide to go looking for Harley. I’m not sure if we will really find Harley, but I have to do something to distract my child from his ragged sobs. We are not going to be making Hamburger Helper tonight. I should also mention that by now it is dark out, pitch black actually.

Since are looking for a black dog in the black of night, obviously we will be needing flashlights. It turns out that in our house, we have a good number of flashlights: over twenty of them in all variations of brightness and size. There are maglites, lights with headbands, tiny flashlights, and big heavy industrial flashlights with huge bulbs. Unfortunately the battery to flashlight ratio in our house needs some work. After flipping at least eighteen dead switches on flashlights in frustration, we finally find two that seem operational and we are on our way.

We begin our search in a wooded field near our home where we take Harley to play sometimes. In the daytime, the field looks charming. In the darkness of night, it looks like a very likely place for chainsaw murderers to hang out. My son moves undaunted into the dark field shadowed with trees and lurking chainsaw murderers yelling, “Haaarleey! Haaarleey, come!” Luckily, none of the chainsaw murders seemed to named Harley because they weren’t rushing out at us with the chainsaws. We decide a better way to find our dog would be to cross a busy highway and walk through a ditch.

As we are making progress through the ditch, we notice people are playing some sort of strange game behind a church. The parking lot is lit in pools of unnatural brightness from floodlights. Teens and children are gathered in groups for the activity while parents lurk at the edges of light looking distracted and bored. “Let’s ask them if they have seen our dog!” says my son. I’m thinking they look like they are about to get us into whatever cult activity they are doing and make us drink kool-aid. “You go ahead,” I tell him. So he walks right up to the bored looking grownups, who don’t even bother to look around for a dog before shaking their heads. Luckily, his question doesn’t seem to even break their listless gaze as they go back to being distracted from whatever activity is going on around them. He walks back looking defeated.

Since the woods, and the ditch and the church have produced nothing, we decide to head back home. We cross a busy highway and walk along the sidewalk towards our house. The sidewalk seems too civilized a way to find a dog, but at this point we are out of options. Then, I notice teenage boys up ahead in jeans and wife-beater t-shirts dribbling a basketball. I want to cross to the other side of the street because obviously teenage boys walking on a sidewalk late at night in wife-beater t-shirts dribbling a basketball are gang rapers. However, against my better judgement, my son goes right up to the gang rapers and asks if they have seen our dog.

This is the shirt you will need if you ever find yourself looking for a lost dog with my son.

Then, the most amazing thing happened… The gang rapers are surprisingly helpful. “Yeah, we just saw your dog! She just crossed the street a few blocks up over there,” says one of the gang rapers as he points to the general direction of our house. “She almost got hit by a car,” another of the gang rapers adds with some concern. My son and I look at each other, yelling in unison, “She’s headed home!” We thank the gang rapers and immediately begin a sprint back to the house.

We arrive at the front door out of breath, but no sign of dog. After a brief sweep of the area, Harley walks casually up to meet us at the front door. She doesn’t even acknowledge anything is amiss, looking at us nonchalantly as my son gives her an immense hug. We all go inside where he rewards the wayward dog for exposing us to cults, gang rapings, and chainsaw massacres by giving her handfuls of treats and dog biscuits. I suppose the moral of this story is that flashlights are no good without corresponding batteries. And also, sometimes you think you are about to be gang raped when someone just wants to help you find your dog.

How to Survive Severe Weather

It started with a dark sky and an email with the subject line, Tornado and Storm Safety.

Should the tornado warning sirens sound, please:

-          Stay OFF the elevator in case the power goes out

-          Head to the breakroom away from the windows

-          If danger seems imminent, go to the stairs

I look out at the dark sky to consider the email. How would you know if danger is imminent? Are the stairs really the place to go during imminent danger? After all, the breakroom has snacks. Checking the radar, I see a line of red and purple storms. The weather site has messages with red exclamation marks, storm warnings. Then… the worst sign of them all that imminent danger is nigh… a text from my mom. “Have the storms hit?” she asks, “Are you safe?” That’s it. We are all going to die. I go to my co-worker’s office, Deb, to announce our doom and get preferences if we should die in the breakroom or on the stairs.

Deb has her purse and car keys out. “Schools are about to dismiss.” She tells me, “I’m going to go pick up my kids.” At that moment, my brain spins. This is no longer about whether to hunker down with the sodas or the stairs. This is about being separated from my child during a potential disaster. The shit could very well be hitting the fan and I am going to be across town in some stairwell with absolutely no idea of whether or not he is okay…. not acceptable. Deb and I make a pact that if the sirens go off, we are headed not to the stairs or the breakroom, but to the parking lot.

I go back to my desk and look at radar maps. I text my mom that the storm has not hit yet and I am okay. I look out the window. The dark sky is eerily green. Then, the sirens sound. Subtle at first, then gaining momentum, they whoop through the air, filling it with intensity and dread. I grab my purse and keys. My cubicle-mate is reading with his ear plugs, apparently undisturbed by the commotion. I get his attention and tell him to go to the breakroom. I’ll be damned if I am going to spend all week training this guy to bring me Diet Coke only to have him get blown away in a tornado. Deb meets me in the hall. As everyone moves to the breakroom, we scurry downstairs.

We hit the lobby where people are looking out the windows at the weather. Apparently, they haven’t gotten any memos and seem a bit confused. All the people in the lobby are wandering in a daze, except the security guard. A hefty black woman with facial piercings, this woman, no one to be trifled with, is moving to the front doors with keys. It suddenly occurs to me they might lock down the building. “Come on!” I tell Deb, and we pick up the pace into a half walk/run that I hope won’t look too much like a mad dash for the exit. We make it through the front doors out into the parking lot. Under the ominous sky the sirens blare loud. Wind pushes spots of rain sideways through the air. Deb and I give each other high-fives over our grand escape. “Good luck!” I yell, and we move quickly in opposite directions toward our cars.

Once in the car, the sound of the sirens becomes intrusive and frankly, a bit terrifying. I turn on the radio to the shrieking blasts of a message from the emergency broadcast system.  Forget that… time for loud music. Slacker Radio, full blast, drowns out all sounds of imminent danger as I make the 15 minute drive to my son’s school.

I arrive at the school to see parents parking their cars and running to the building. I decide that is what I shall do as well. I park the car and text my husband that I am picking up our son. He texts back, “Did you call the school?” Call the school??? I’m AT the school. Just then I notice the crossing guard running to the school with his yellow slicker and stop sign. That guy looks like he has been through a couple of wars. If he is running, it is time to get inside. When I get to the building, they tell me the school is in lock down and that parents can take shelter inside the cafeteria. This is fine with me. I am in the same building as my son, this is now acceptable.

Eventually, there is somewhat of a lull in the storm because the sirens die down. Someone with a walkie-talkie announces they are going to start releasing kids and to form a line. He gestures to a side of the room. I start heading over there, but then I realize I have aimed for the wrong direction. I went to directly to the starting of the place. When I got to the actual line, it had already formed in the opposite direction. By the time I make it to the end, I will never get my kid. This calls for some anti-social behavior. I examine the first section of the line to see who will let me cut ahead. There is a lady who looks like she doesn’t speak English holding a baby. She wouldn’t stop me from cutting ahead. But, not speaking English and carrying around a baby means she already has enough problems without me cutting in front of her. After all, this isn’t Lord of the Flies.

Behind the lady who probably doesn’t speak English holding a baby is a slightly overweight dad in sweats and a stained t-shirt. Bingo. He agrees to let me cut in front of him with a nod. When someone lets you cut in front of them, there is the implied agreement that there will be small talk. I’m a civilized person, so I held up my required level of participation.

Dad in sweats and stained t-shirt, “Crazy day isn’t it?”

Me, “Uh-huh.”

Required small talk accomplished, I suddenly realize everyone is holding these purple cards with numbers on them. These are the purple cards they gave everyone to put in their car windows during afternoon pickup. My son goes to afterschool care, so I don’t know where our purple card even is.

I text my husband, “I don’t have that damn purple card.” He responds, “Surely they won’t hold you to that today.” I text back, “You don’t understand. It is Lord of the Flies over here. People are CUTTING IN LINE!”

As it turns out, they aren’t using the purple card system today. You are meant to tell the name of your child and the grade to a person with a walkie-talkie who will announce for the teacher to send them out. As it turns out, the lady ahead of me indeed does not speak English. She and a confused person with a walkie-talkie struggle to break their communication barrier and get across the names and grades of all her children. It seems to be taking inordinately long. In the meantime, the sirens once again begin to wail. Terrified girls in backpacks tearfully run into the arms of waiting parents.  The lady without English has given up with talking and begins writing children’s names and grade level numbers on the back of her purple card.

Just as I resign myself to living this surreal scene for all eternity, the school secretary approaches me. This is the same school secretary who has NEVER laughed at any of my jokes. She always regards me with what I perceive as particularly annoyed indifference. Her eyes are dead, like a shark’s eyes, eyes that have seen too many tardy students and irresponsible parents to mess with me and my tom-foolery. Now at this crucial moment in time, she stands before me, regards me grimly with her shark-dead eyes, and says, “Have they called for your son yet?” Astounded, I shake my head no and she straightaway calls out his name on her walkie-talkie.  Before I can thank her, she is gone.

Then, the moment I have waited for suddenly happens. I see my little boy. He walks calmly through the chaos of crying little girls, anxious parents, staff members yelling into walkie-talkies, and wailing sirens. Then, he looks at me and says, “You picked me up early today.”

I grab his hand and we head out. On the sidewalk in front of the school, a guy in a dress shirt is walking nonchalantly with two little girls. Obviously just out for an afternoon stroll in a little severe weather, this guy has it all together. He says not to worry too much about the sirens because they are set to go off not at signs of rotation, but merely at 60 mile an hour winds. He barely finishes this statement as the sky finally lets loose and a torrent of rain pours down. He and each of his girls immediately pop open umbrellas. My son looks at me accusingly because we have no umbrella. In turn, I give him a look that I hope says, “I just drove across town in a tornado to rescue you and NO I didn’t bring any umbrellas so just hurry and get yourself in the car.“ Which, he does.

To sum up a long story, we spend the rest of the afternoon hunkered down in the bathroom with our dog and a weather radio. The storms hit all around us, tossing tractor trailers back and forth like a child’s game, but we were safe. I don’t even know why we live here in tornado alley. It seems inherently like a bad idea.

If you do happen to live in tornado alley, remember to go to the stairs during imminent danger. I’m not sure how you will tell if the danger is imminent. My mom always calls to let me know. In case my mom forgets to call you, here is a t-shirt.

Because it is important to know when to head for the stairs.

Accomplishing Valentine’s Day

In the spirit of the self-help t-shirt line, I am going to offer you t-shirts that will help you through Valentine’s Day… whether you like it, or not. I mean, whether you like Valentine’s Day, or not. Not if you like my t-shirts. How would you even know if you like them or not, you can’t even see them because they don’t exist.  In the spirit of full disclosure, I should let you know these shirts will not be having pictures of hearts and teddy bears. These are not those kinds of Valentine shirts. These are way more practical.

As you may or may not be aware, Valentine’s Day is typically the required day for men who are mating (or hoping to mate) to woo their woman (or women) of interest with expensive, but essentially useless gifts, like beautiful flowers and shiny diamonds (for more information on shiny things, see Heinakroon.com). Well, I shouldn’t describe all of these items as useless. Diamonds are actually quite good for drill bits, but no girl wants to get a drill for Valentine’s Day. Except maybe that lesbian who tried to beat up @lucysfootball outside the video store. She would probably love one. But she might beat you up, so I wouldn’t mention it.

For the Valentine’s Day Renouncers

Enough about lesbian drill bits, it is time to help you with your Valentine situation. First, let’s assume you hate Valentine’s Day. I have learned from vegans that if you don’t want to do something, the best strategy is to pick a moral high ground then use it to tell everyone else they are doing all the wrong things. If you don’t want to eat meat, for example, you should explain to everyone with a slab of dead animal on their plate how they can get all the protein they need from tofu. Deep inside you will know that even though the carnivores are staring at you, and still chewing bacon, they truly appreciate your conviction.

Let’s apply this tactic to Valentine’s Day. If all the flowers at the office annoy you either because of the constant interruption they create, or simply because no one is sending you any, take the moral high ground. Here is your t-shirt and sample rant:

Sample Rant:

Why are you people killing flowers just to display them on their desks for a few days? Has anyone even considered the serious abuse of these flowers? You have dozens of helpless plants slowly dying in front of you and all you care about is checking your email! Those flowers were outside growing happily, until someone slit their stems and stuck them in a vase under fluorescent lighting. Is this how you would want to be treated? There are roses out there growing thorns to protect themselves. THORNS! You should be ashamed.

For Valentine’s Day Participants

If you want the entire Valentine’s Day experience, you should take steps to ensure that all items required for your Valentine happiness are secured well in advance. Don’t put yourself in the position of telling your significant other that nothing is wrong while you cry and hold your Valentine’s Day bowling ball. A lot of problems can be avoided by setting the right expectations.

Things to Purchase Me for Valentine’s Day:

Simply check off which of the standard Valentine Gifts you would like to receive, and let the shirt do the work for you. It is so much easier than dropping subtle hints. Subtle hints can be totally ignored. No one can ignore this t-shirt (I’m making the font really big).

There it is… another holiday crisis solved. Everyone enjoy your chocolates and/or moral indignation. You’re Welcome!

How to Confront your Fears

I would like to help all of you confront your fears, mainly to make up for the overly sciency nature of that quantum physics post. Especially after I mangled it all to hell and left out most of the actual facts. Did you know that Albert Einstein wore his socks inside out? I don’t actually know this to be a fact, but if it is, I left it out. I’m totally unreliable.

Now that I have sufficiently proven my unreliability, let’s get to helping you with your serious life issues. Since I don’t know what your fears are, we can start by confronting mine. By ‘confronting,’ I mean writing them down in a blog and then doing nothing about them.

Fear 1. Flying Alone

It isn’t really spending time at high speeds flying through the air that concerns me. I don’t like figuring out the airport. I never know what to do at any given time and crack easily under pressure. Security is no place for me to be. The high anxiety dance of taking off shoes, opening a lap top, and placing all the carry-on crap into plastic bins with the rush of people behind me doing the same pushes my blood pressure to a dangerous level. Even after all that, you still have to figure out where to go to get on the right plane.

When you finally make it on the right plane, you have to sit next to some random person. As if that isn’t enough, there is always the risk that person will want to chat with you. It is important to get headphones on as quickly as possible. Don’t worry if they aren’t plugged into anything, you can fix that later. Just wear the headphones all the time. Better yet, here is a shirt:

When you get off the plane, you have to negotiate more transportation to where ever it is you hope to end up. Rental cars, taxis, shuttles, and trains may be available. If you miss any of these, you will fall through the cracks and be trapped in transit forever. I’m pretty sure this is how people end up begging on the street for coins.

Fear 2. Eating

I can’t eat a proper meal in a public place by myself. I would rather just starve. For some reason, dining alone at a table makes me feel like people are staring at me thinking how socially awkward I must be not to be able to find someone to consume food with. While traveling alone, I tend to carry around a lot of granola bars. If you see someone sitting on a sidewalk somewhere begging for change while eating their last granola bar, that is probably me.  I must have missed my shuttle.

Fear 3. Automatic Car Washes

I keep telling myself that anyone of average intelligence can handle themselves in these automated car washes. There are lights that tell you to stop and go, and people motioning when you need to drive up and put your car in neutral. I am still terrified. I get things wrong all the time. Apparently, I need double the amount of explaining for a simple task that an average person. I don’t just need to know what to do, I need to know why. I need to know what will happen if I screw this up.

Running a large motored device through a small space with moving equipment does not seem like a thing I would be good at. There is a large percentage chance I will do something wrong that will directly result in my crashing my car inadvertently into the car wash. Then, I will be stuck in the car wash. My car will be stuck there too.  My broken car and I will be in the broken car wash, stranded there for everyone to mock for all eternity. I will just stick with the dust. Thanks anyway.

I hope you enjoyed confronting these fears. Now that the fears have been confronted, we can all go through our days not eating, and driving filthy cars while avoiding air travel. We will be so happy.

How to Watch an Iconic Movie

Someday, very soon, @lucysfootball and I will watch a beloved American classic and mock it on the Twitter. While you might think that we are trailblazers of social media, the main goal of this experiment is really about the vodka.**

The movie is Breakfast at Tiffany’s. I remember liking this movie, but haven’t seen it for quite some time. I recently revisited the movie on NetFlix. Audrey Hepburn is cute. That is something on which we can all agree. After that, everything pretty much falls apart.

Before going any further, I would like to clear up a few things. First, I don’t consider myself to be a moral person. I don’t need to constantly pass judgment or delineate every action into black in white in order to function in the world.  Second, I am not easily offended. Okay, I am very easily offended but mainly by people who wear too much cologne. If you aren’t wearing too much cologne and while you are serial killing or riding naked on your bike, you are fine. Knock yourself out.

That said, within ten minutes of watching this presumably innocuous movie, I am all kinds of judgy and offended. We don’t really need the Asian gentleman portrayed with buckteeth hitting his head on all the round paper lanterns while yelling, “Miss Go-right-ree!” It just isn’t necessary. Plus, Audrey Hepburn… you are just going to pop in the window of some random stranger’s apartment in your bathrobe because your date is crazy? Really? This isn’t how things are done. The one thing that would this movie better is if the characters would smoke more. I’m sick of all of them. They need to develop emphysema as quickly as possible. And, one more thing, I don’t care how cute you are, you just can’t go around naming everyone ‘Fred.’ It is stupid and annoying. Also, ukuleles are stupid too. There, I said it.

I spent the entire movie wishing he would say this. He never does.

Wow. That was a lot more than I expected to write about the movie. I hope I didn’t burn up all my rants because I am really looking forward to watching it with  @lucysfootball. At first she was hesitant, but I think she is going to be way better at making snide Twitter comments during the movie than I will be.

Enough about the movie, let’s talk vodka…whipped cream vodka. It comes highly recommended. I don’t actually possess my bottle as of yet, but I have a firm goal set to obtain it. There is also some sort of Swedish Fish Vodka. I don’t want to risk the possibly of the vodka not being made from the candy Swedish Fish, but actual fish from Sweden. I will not be getting this vodka. @whoremongers said she has never actually tried smoked salmon vodka, but that she would never try it again. She sounded pretty shook up about the experience of never of trying it, so it must be pretty bad. Therefore, all fish related vodka is out of the question. Don’t even bring it up.

Probably no one will offer you fish vodka, but you can't be too careful.

If anyone would like to join us in watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s while making Tweet remarks and drinking whipped cream vodka, feel free to join us. It is currently available to watch instantly through NetFlix. We will set a time. We may not set it conveniently or with any type of advance notice, so be on alert. Also, you will need a bottle of whipped cream vodka. We probably won’t be able to show up in person to see if you physically have the vodka, but we can tell, so don’t lie. Also, don’t forget we have hammers.

**I finished exactly this much of the blog before my mom loudly mispronounces “kimchi” and tells me I have the weirdest things in my fridge. Then, my dad comes over with a thumbdrive of all the pictures he took of my kid’s birthday party and asks if I want to look at them. He points out the thumbdrive on my desk several times as if the main issue in not jumping at the chance to look at images of kids eating cake is my lack of awareness of the thumbdrive location. Simultaneously, my kid comes over to demonstrate his newly constructed marshmallow weaponry. The marshmallows shooting out of the tube seem oddly nonchalant of their predicament.

I don’t know what it is about this computer that attracts people within thirty seconds of me sitting down to type at it. If anyone out there is lonely, I will sell you this computer. Of course, it may not solve all your problems. Instead of a sexy person with smoldering eyes telling you what a brilliant blog you are writing, it will most likely attract people who are well intentioned, but very loud. Yeah, no one wants this computer. I am certain of it.

Well, I gotta go. People are looking for pickles and everyone is certain I am the only one who can find them. In the meantime, looking forward to movie and vodka night.

How to Get a Hobby

It is extremely important to have a hobby because at some point in your life, someone is going to ask you what hobbies you have. If you don’t have at least a small hobby, it is like you don’t exist. You have to be involved in stuff. You can’t just go around typing things into Twitter all day like it is some sort of purpose in life.

As an added incentive, your hobby will be the basis for people to decide how interesting you are. Ideally, you will have a hobby ready at hand that will make you appear more interesting than you actually are. You need to decide what this hobby will be well ahead of the question because it is hard to think of these things on the fly. If you don’t plan ahead, you are going to come up with something stupid like dog walking or eating potato chips.

Let’s get things started with a list of acceptable hobbies. Here are some authentic hobbies that I researched on Twitter.

Scrapbooking

I know you are worried starting out that you might not have enough scraps, but @sup3rmom informs me that they will share their scraps with you, as long as you bring your own wine. I like things where you can go to have wine, so I am already mostly on board with this one.

Dramatic Paper Ripping

@blogginglily suggested dramatic paper ripping. He is also willing to give lessons. If enough people are interested, maybe we can work out a discount.

Oolong Monkey Training

@lahikmajoe suggested Oolong monkey training, but Alura’s CrossWorlds Cafe and I both know that Teavana is never going to break down and tell us where they are hiding the monkeys.

Hooking

This is actually not what you are thinking. According to @ToujoursPurSang, this is alternate term for ‘crochet.’ Sure, you can use the term ‘crochet’ but you appear much more interesting if you tell people you are a ‘hooker’ or into ‘hooking.’

Hooking is a very productive hobby that results in lots of scarves, pot-holders, and sweaters. You could even make steering wheel cozies. Those are VERY popular. The negative side of this hobby is that people may not perceive it as interesting. After they figure out that when you said you ‘spend a lot of time hooking’ is that you are making stuff out of yarn, your hobby might fail to hold a their interest.

Blog Commenting

According to @MsCreatrix, writing really long comments counts as a valid hobby. As an added bonus, that is something I am already doing. However, very much like the hooking, this plan fails to make you more interesting. It might make you very interesting to bloggers probably, but no one else. There is also the added danger that after the hobby discussion, you end up with a guy that smells like soup making you read his blog about greenhouses. You can’t go around announcing stuff about blogs without expecting repercussions.

Hiking

I got this hiking hobby comment via text message, the very text message discussion in which someone asked about my hobbies. This person obviously does not know me very well. I panicked and said my hobby was potato chips. I regret now that I did not say Cheetos. This is exactly why it is so important to plan these things out in advance.

What is it about hiking? Isn’t hiking just walking around? Sure, the surfaces are uneven and the view is usually nicer that view you get from the parking lot as you scurry to your car, but you really aren’t doing anything terribly out of the ordinary. You could even say your hobby is looking at stuff. Hiking makes it sound more awesome than it really is.

This shirt is in case you want outside suggestions apart from those in this blog. (I know, why WOULD you.)

I propose we do a thought experiment. Let’s take something you are already doing and make it not only into a hobby, but an impressive one. I’m going to go with potato chips. Potato chips will make a wonderful hobby, and not just because I’m already committed to it from some ill-thought text message.

Consulting the hive mind**, I send my hobby related chip skills out to Twitter and let my minions get to work. At first, prospects looked dim.  @lahikmajoe questioned whether eating potato chips was a proper hobby. I was about to throw up my hands in despair when @_viouslymaggie saved the day by suggesting I take up watching too many series. This idea is brilliant in that I will have people to talk to and it “goes well with crisps.” See, @lahikmajoe, THAT is how you give a suggestion.

Then, @debihen made a proposal that was absolutely inspired. She said that if I find a chip shaped like Jesus, I could put it in a museum with my name on a plaque. I always like to go the extra mile, so I think I will make my own potato chip museum. People find Jesus on toast and tortillas all the time. How difficult could he be to locate famous people on chips? I already may have my hands on a Justin Bieber.

I got all excited about adding an educational science wing to my museum when @heinakroon suggested Darwin or Planck chips. Then, much to my disappointment, he admitted to not actually having the chips shaped like these individuals. Thanks for NOTHING, @heinakroon. Not to worry, though. The museum project is still on track. @ivycanucchi is buying chips today at the market and is fairly optimistic about finding a Jim Morrison or a Frank Sinatra chip. I’m hoping for Morrison.

**I think Lucy’s Football is responsible for coining the term ‘hive mind’ in reference to Twitter, but I don’t remember exactly. I would really appreciate if someone could go read the entirety of Lucy’s Football blog in order to provide a link to the actual statement. Thanks.

How to Create a Team Building Cheer

I think there must be some website out there offering advice on how you create your own team building training. Every one of these things I have been to makes whatever team you end up in create and perform a cheer. So, if you have to go to a team building, please be aware that you may have to plan and perform a team cheer.

I have been to a lot of team building sessions, so if you find yourself in the unfortunate position of creating a cheer, I can help you with that. Here is a list of limitations for creating a cheer that will both satisfy the requirements of the psychotics making you do it, and get you through the situation gracefully.

1. No sudden movements. If the instructions for creating the cheer require some sort of movement, keep it to a minimum. You are not winning any awards here. Even if there are awards, they won’t be given out for the cheer. Even if there are awards given out for the cheer, they will be lame.  Any sudden, or repetitive, movements are unacceptable. I will not be high kicking, jumping, or clapping. Just have everyone throw their hands up in the air at the end of the thing. It is something they will probably want to do anyway.
2. No yelling. Don’t use words like “go” or “team” or “win.” It is really hard for people to pretend that much enthusiasm. I might be willing to chant  something that rhymes. However, I will not be chanting very loud, or energetically, so keep it short so it doesn’t drag.
3. No singing. Don’t make the cheer to the tune of a song. I am not singing some words you organized in ten minutes to the tune of Jingle Bells. No one can write a clever song in minutes while people are yelling suggestions into the air. It is going to end badly. Case in point, “Jingle Bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg.” No one even likes this version. It is stupid and was probably written as a team building exercise.

Create any cheer you desire within these guidelines, and you will have my minimal participation. If you create anything outside these boundaries, I will be not be performing. I will be looking away, distracted, until it is over. There are multitudes of things in a room with which I can distract myself, including the Twitter feed on my phone. After you are done, I will look up suddenly, incredibly disappointed to have missed the whole thing.

Better yet, here is a shirt you can wear to your team building.

A lot of problems can be avoided simply by setting the right expectations.

How to Improve Your Life in 2012

As the year ends, people seem to be writing lists of blogs they read. However, this can be perilous. As Lucysfootball so aptly puts it in “My mom says I’m a catch; I’m popular,” a favorite blogs of 2011 post would, “end up like the one time I tried to do #FF on Twitter. If you’re not on Twitter, you don’t know about #FF. #FF is Follow Friday. You type in someone’s name you think your followers should follow, and hopefully they listen to you. But it becomes like a popularity contest, and people get their noses bent out of joint if they’re not #FF’d, or if others are #FF’d instead of them, and the one time I tried it I failed SO MISERABLY I have been hiding under my #FF rock ever since.”

Since I don’t even have a #FF rock, I had better not go there. So I will not at all explain to you which blogs I read and why. After all, this blog is a self-help guide. How am I going to help you help yourself if I am going on and on about what blogs I enjoy reading? Therefore, I am going to give you an entire self-improvement guide. For FREE. Ready?

1. Improve your life by learning about tea with @lahikmajoe.

Read Lahikmajoe’s tea blog and you will never think about Oolong leaves or bergamot oil the same way again. So go there, and start appreciating tea immediately.

Now we are all done with tea, I have to admit that my favorite posts on his tea blogs were actually the ones that had the least to do about tea. Therefore, I was absolutely THRILLED when Lahikmajoe started his new Dachshund Blog. You can read endearing dachshund stories here all day long. They save lives and they throw up chocolate. There is no end to the delight a dachshund can bring to your day. Plus, if you tire of reading about dachshunds (what kind of person ARE you???) you can read about beer songs from Texas, poop mail, and, of course, mad people on trains.

2. Be more sciency with @heinakroon.

To me, this blog is like one of those people who comes in and organizes all the clutter in your brain so that you can actually find stuff. They have people like that, right?

At Heinakroon.com, you can learn the science behind zombies  and find how why your Christmas tree can’t kill you. Or maybe it can kill you, just not by poisoning you. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention you can become a vampire lesbian.

I particularly love this blog, because Andreas Heinakroon writes about things I spend a lot of time thinking about. There is actually only one small difference in the way we operate.  I often wonder why people are obsessed with dieting or worried about zombies, but then I go off to look at shiny stuff or work on my martini recipe. Andreas thinks about these things, then he researches and writes stuff down in an organized fashion. After reading his blog, you will see the world in a whole new way. Just don’t get upset if he compares you to a primate.

3. Learn a new language with @lucysfootball.

Reading Lucy’s Football is what it feels like to ride a rollercoaster while laughing your head off. Then the rollercoaster jumps the tracks and goes flying dramatically off course and you have no idea if you are still on the same rollercoaster or if you are on a different type of ride all together. You don’t know if you will be safe and children could very well be in extreme danger, but you are still laughing your head off and you don’t even care. That is what it is like.

An added bonus to this blog is the fact that Amy doesn’t even stick to words in the English language. It isn’t that she isn’t familiar with the language. She is an eloquent writer. I think it is that the words and phrases that have been already invented are too limiting. If Webster had any vision at all, the words douchecanoe, douchecanoey, and asshat would already be in the dictionary.

There are also very interesting phrases that she will often highlight for your convenience in all capital letters. Phrases like BUCKING BRONCO OF BROKENNESS and my own personal favorite, PUT YOUR PANTS BACK ON DING DONG JOE.

All this considered, Amy is an altruist at heart, providing helpful guidelines for those of you confused by social media or laundry room etiquette. Just a hint, keeping your pants on is generally a good idea under most circumstances.

4. Take up cannibalism with @plumsauce10.

It is important when taking up a new hobby like cannibalism that you understand the social implications. For example, when you have cake, and a friend, which do you eat first? It is handy to know these things before such a situation presents itself.

Lucky for you, in her blog, Random Thoughts of a Plum, Lisa provides a clear guideline Important Rules to Abide by When Eating Friends, printable for easy reference.

The rules essentially break down to this:

“Don’t eat friends when there is cake” and “Only eat one friend a day so as not to piss off your significant other.”

But, just as with anything else, there are subtleties involved with cannibalism, as well as cholesterol considerations, so you should probably read the entire thing.

5. Spice up your wardrobe with @handflapper.

If you have never been Baby Depot wearing a FUCKING BELLS T-shirt, your life is poorer for it. If you do plan on having a FUCKING BELLS T-Shirt Outing, be ready for a grand adventure. You should also be ready for people to under-react to your t-shirt. People are so de-sensitized these days. I blame Mel Gibson. Also, bring a better photographer than Alice. Alice was extremely uncooperative. You can’t just run in for crazy meds without even taking a picture of the Salvation Army guy, Alice. Especially after you were promised tater crowns.

So that is it. Enjoy your new and improved life in 2012. Hurry and enjoy it now before we die because the Mayans forgot to finish their damn calendar. You’re welcome.

How to Survive a Year

Well, we have made it through the holidays and it is time to start a brand new year. In order to assist you with upcoming activities and expectations, I have made you a month-by-month list of requirements. I am helpful that way.

January

New Year’s Day:

Welcome to the New Year everyone! If you manage to stay up until midnight, there will be paper hats, noisemakers, and champagne. New Year Resolutions will be made. Feel free to make as many resolutions as you wish as they can be ignored throughout the year.

Also, you will have put up a tree for Christmas that you should take down sometime this month.

February

You should definitely be ignoring your resolutions by now, so go ahead and cancel that gym membership. Also if you haven’t taken down that Christmas tree yet, you suck. Who cares if it was not your idea to put it up in the first place, take down the damn tree! Feel free to wad up all the lights carelessly as you won’t have to worry about them until next Christmas.

Valentine’s Day:

 You will be asked to address twenty valentine cards to the kids at your son’s school. You will have no idea who these kids are, just copy the names from the list the teacher gives you. Your kid will come home with exactly the same number of cards in his backpack, which you will then throw away. Don’t question the logic of this, just do it. There could be a romantic dinner in your future. Maybe flowers.

 March

Any flowers you got for Valentine’s Day will be dead. Find them and throw them out.

St. Patrick’s Day:

I’m not sure what day this is on, but you will need to remember to wear green. Wear green for the entire month just in case. Some people may ask you to meet them at an Irish pub for a pint and some corned beef. There could be green beer, which will seem like a good idea, but you should really go with a stout or an Irish red ale. They are much more authentic to the tradition than Bud Light with green food coloring.

April

April Fool’s Day:

Don’t believe anything anyone says. Pretend this is somehow different from every other day.

Easter:

Colored eggs, rabbits. Peeps. People dress up and go to church. If you are very unlucky, there will be hats. I’m pretty sure the whole Easter hat thing is dead, but as a general rule, you should avoid wearing fancy hats if at all possible.

May

Locate all the Peeps from Easter and throw them out. No one is ever going to eat them.

Mother’s Day:

Send your mom a card, and maybe some flowers. Stay out of any place serving brunch as these locations will be filled with women wearing corsages. A corsage is the dumbest thing ever. If anyone ever gives you one, you should immediately stab them with it.

June

Father’s Day:

This is not as big of a deal as Mother’s Day. Dads will take advantage of their right to sit on the couch and watch television. It is important to humor them by pretending that is not what they would be doing anyway. No one ever expects a dad to go to brunch wearing a corsage, which I find extremely unfair. You can’t tell me that people enjoy walking around with flowers pinned to their clothing. It is ridiculous.

July

Independence Day:

Your neighbor will invite you out to their place at the lake where he will make a speech about freedom, then try to kill everyone with fireworks. Make an excuse not to go.

August

If you are me, you live in Texas. August in Texas is an impossibly hot month. People will celebrate by taking pictures of their car thermostats with their phones to post to Facebook. I usually track these and send a notice to the winner. There is no prize for this contest, just bragging rights that you somehow did not get heat stroke from entering the roasting-oven environment of your car.

No one will feel like doing anything this month. You can’t even wear a corsage because the burning hot sun will strike it from the sky causing it to melt into your clothing. Which is why they won’t even sell you a corsage in August, probably.

September

School Starts:

In complete denial of the fact it is still freaking hot, stores will begin selling back to school clothes and jackets. Stores will also be selling lots of notebook paper, erasers, and crayons. If you are me, you will locate the most enormous box of Crayola crayons, then open it to smell the new crayon smell.

October

Halloween:

Stores will be selling costumes and scary zombie yard decorations. They will also begin putting up their Christmas displays. This is the perfect opportunity to go through each store adding skeletons to the baby Jesus manger scenes.

Decorate your house with spider webs and skulls. If you tend to have actual spider webs and skulls in your house, then win for you. Do nothing.

Carve a pumpkin into a face with crooked teeth. Save the seeds because you say you are going to roast them. Stock up on candy to hand out to kids. Pass out the candy. Take your kid around the neighborhood gather up candy. After all this effort, the amount of candy in your house will be exactly the same. Do not question the logic of this, just do it.

November

Take down the spider webs and skulls. Find a storage space for the scary yard zombies. The guest room closet is ideal. Turn your carved pumpkin so the crooked teeth face a wall. It is now a fall harvest display.

Thanksgiving:

School children will color Thanksgiving pilgrims and make turkeys by tracing the shape of their hand.

You may be asked to attend a formal dinner with extended family. If you are very unlucky, everyone will hold hands in a circle for what seems like eternity so that each individual can mushily announce whatever it is they are thankful for. No one will admit that is a form of torture. Try to think of something to say that isn’t too saccharine or embarrassing.

Following the awkward hand holding session will be a prayer, and finally, the ridiculously large dinner. You will watch the people who have been bitching about carbs all year long eat rolls, cornbread dressing, AND mashed potatoes…. at the same time. If you are lucky, there will be eight types of pie.

December

There is no excuse for that pumpkin now, and it is starting to smell. Throw it away. The seeds are probably in the back of the refrigerator somewhere. I’m sure you’ll get around to roasting them eventually.

Christmas:

You will put a tree in your living room and decorate it. It will not be providing shade. Don’t question the logic of this, just do it.

You will open the Christmas decorations stored from last year and wonder who the hell wadded up all the lights into a tangled mess. You could go out and buy new ones. Alternatively, you could spend the day untangling them and figuring out which of the bulbs on the damn thing is making all the other bulbs not light, then go out and buy new ones.

About mid-month, people will start asking if you are done with your Christmas shopping yet. Stores become overly crowded and at the same time start playing sappy, often religious-themed music over their public address systems. Twitter the names of these songs to your followers as you stand in line. Misery is best when shared with friends.

You struggle to wrap things that are oddly shaped, then your family comes over and gifts are exchanged. You will receive a few awesome unexpected things, one thing you didn’t know you needed, and some really dumb things you have no use for. Your trash/recycle bin will be obscenely full with paper and cardboard boxes on the very week no one shows to pick it up.

Congratulations!

And then, like magic, you are done. You made it. Congratulations to you!  Now… start over at January and repeat for the rest of your life. Don’t question the logic of this, just do it.