Ghost Town Adventure

Sometimes an adventure begins with foresight and planning; other times it begins with a stop at Jeremy's Pissing Hole.

Behold Jeremy's Pissing Hole.

Disclaimer: This is a composite of two different pictures.
Visiting Jeremy's Pissing Hole will most likely not result in your vehicle vanishing before your eyes.

It's located immediately off of the I-15 Freeway inbetween towns in no-man's-land California. While it appears to have once been a gas station, the two upright gas pumps have been inoperable since the Reagan administration, and the large sign on the door of the building states "Bathrooms Are For Customers Only," therefore the logically conclusion is that this establishment is a pissing hole. For what other purpose would someone visit such an place......unless of course you suddenly and randomly felt the need to buy purchase a Tigger sweatshirt, some stale crackers, or a giant picture a pride of lions crossing a street (no seriously, they had one), while on a road trip through the desert.

Since I had indeed stopped to use the toilet and there was no minimum purchase requirement to qualify for bathroom privileges, I spent a little time afterwards perusing the postcards where my travel companion and myselfstumbled upon a postcard of Calico Ghost Town, which got us curious. I had once heard about a restored ghost town in these parts, but that was about it.

When we got back on I-15, we found holiday traffic to be unbearable, and since we were already running late and would miss our afternoon obligations in L.A., we opted to get off on exit 119 to Ghost Town Road and discovered 3 miles down the road.....

After parking between a busload of Japanese tourist and an RV park, I was beginning to think this ghost town is quite the destination location. They even have signs in Japanese, English, French, and German.

If you are wondering what the purpose might be for restoring an old silver mining town out in the middle of nowhere, this is probably a common question because it is clearly marked on the town map.......the point. ;)

Unfortunately we never found it.

But we did find some entertaining photo ops.

dearly departed

Roomie in prison

drinking sarsaparilla in a mine

We also saw a great gun show

And some fun signage

And what exactly am I going to be kissing?

First Fridays @ the L.A. Natural History Museum

I generally enjoy museums with one notable exception, natural history museums. They are kind of like zoos, but all the animals are dead. Since I don't hang out in cemeteries or morgues, I'm not really sure why I'd want to hang out with a bunch of taxidermied animals. My sentiment must be fairly common because many natural history museums across the country have started programs to expand the demographic of the typical museum visitor, which is currently people ages of 6 - 17 and transported by big yellow bus.

The Natural History Museum of Los Angeles is no exception. According to their website: "Once a month [January-June], the entire Natural History Museum stays open until 10 pm and features live music, exciting scientific discussion, and behind-the-scenes curatorial tours......".

So my friends and I went to check it out........ in March (obviously this is one of those anachronistic entries I warned you about). As promised by the museum's marketing blurb there was indeed live music, but you had to arrive early to get the wrist band for the show. There were also libations, but my friends and I don't drink, so instead we went exploring.

And discovered the B-E-S-T part of First Friday............the dinosaur.

Who would have guessed that this man:

could don a 50lb dinosaur costume to become dun, dun, dun:

The area where they keep the dinosaur is known as the Discovery Center, like the rest of the museum there are lots of dead things, but at least in this portion, it was interactive so you could do things like:

Get up close and personal with a polar bear

Cozy up with a crocodile.


Imitate a skunk.

And lest you think it's just me and my friends who behave like children, I snapped a picture of a two random guys taking the concept of 'going stag' quite literally.

Once we had our fill of the Discovery Zone, we walked around looking for other interesting finds, like perhaps locating something alive on display, and I really wish we hadn't found it.

Big ol' bugs. They had at least 8 varieties of roaches, a good sized scorpion (which btw glows blue if you shine it with a black light), and a couple tarantulas. My question: Why, oh why, in this land of dead things, did they have living, breathing giant bugs? Turns out they were on loan from somewhere else......lucky for the the bugs. I'm pretty sure they'd have to kill them if they wanted to add them to the permanent collection.

We also found a living breathing human on display........

However, he was working on something dead, and his look told me he wished I would drop dead.....or maybe he was just tired of being the subject of 20+ photos as I tried to get one that wasn't grainy. I wisely gave up.

Then we were on the hunt for something totally different, something out of this world, so we searched high and low, through every exhibit where we found dinosaur bones, rare gems, a snipe (they really do exist), and then tucked away in some distant corner we found something that defies explanation.

Could someone please explain why this creepy-looking cardboard city filled with plastic duck action figures was on display anywhere, let alone at a natural history museum? Yeah, me neither, but I think it was my favorite display. :)

So there you have it First Friday at the L.A. Natural History Museum. It was an evening of silly fun with my friends. Would I go again? That's an excellent question. Ask me again in January. :)

Let's see what should I blog about next: internet dating or Hawaii or soapbox races?

Time

Einstein said time is relative, and Stephen Hawking says linear time is imaginary. Therefore I shall ignore the artificial constraints placed upon me by time, and over the next few blog entries, will share experiences that are in no way in chronological order.

Truth be told I got out of the habit of blogging. But that doesn't mean I haven't had anything to blog about. In fact a lot has happened over the last few months. After all I do not live in a vacuum (Parenthetically have you ever done an internet image search for an idiom like "live in a vacuum"? Someday I would like to know what colored glass and storm troopers have to do with vacuums?)

So some things you may get to hear about in future entries include: My trip to Hawaii, first Fridays at the natural history museum, hiking in the Santa Monica Mountains, the underground dinner, tide pools, soapbox races, why I give up on dating every 6 weeks, renting a Soul, flying, the best birthday party ever, and really anything else that might come up.

Of course I take requests, so please by all means drop me a line, and I'll do my best to accommodate you by pontificating upon whatever topic fits your fancy. :)

Big Sur Birthday

For my birthday this year my parents came into town for a visit. We rented an SUV and headed up north, past Oxnard, beyond Santa Barbara to an area known as Big Sur. Now Big Sur itself is a town that takes you 3.4 nanoseconds to drive through, but the surrounding areas are pretty awesome.

Here are some highlights from the trip:

1. Pismo Beach

There are some beautiful cliffs covered with some not so beautiful bird poop, but let's stick the positives, shall we. :) The sites were breathtaking, as was the sunset.



2. Julia Pfeiffer Waterfall

Once we got into this area, we got hit with some super heavy fog, which made the photos kind of cool.



3. The Elephant Seal Hang out

Apparently the best time to visit here is during mating season when you can watch 6 tons of pure blubber pick fights with equally built foes, all for the affections of the females. Since it was not yet mating season, we watched 6 tons of pure blubber pick fights with equally built foes....just for fun. We also watched the rest of the elephant seal population chill on the beach.

4. Hearst Castle

In true I-have-too-much-money-and-I-don't-know-what-to-do-with-it style William Randolph Hearst commissioned a palace to be built on a rock in the middle of (nowhere) California, and he proceeded to invite the rich, powerful, and popular people of his era to come on over for a visit. It is as opulent as any palace as it is filled with relics from the castles of Europe.:) It was stunning for sure.



5. Random stops by the ocean

Along the coast there are piers and sandy spots galore where you can get out to watch the waves or snaps some pictures of your parents happily enjoying the sights.



All in all it was a beautiful trip and a wonderful way to spend my birthday weekend. Thanks mom and dad! :)

Ode to My Dad

I know I'm late with this, but better late then never..... :)


Before there was Google, there was my dad; a walking, talking fount of knowledge, who knew everything about anything. And because of this my dad has taught me many things in this life such as....

1. Big words

My dad's vocabulary is immense, and he never watered things down for us kids, so we learned all sorts of scientific terms before entering first-grade. However, I'm going to have to admit that my favorite vocabulary lessons were tied to insult wars with my brothers.

"Dad, I’ve called him a neanderthal, amoeba, and protozoa. I need a new one."

"How about a nudibranch?"

"Right, Rob you’re a……wait, dad, what’s a nudibranch?"

"A sea slug."

"Rob you’re SUCH a nudibranch."

2. If you can do it yourself, then you should

It is thanks to my dad that I know how to install dry-wall, own a drill, and will usually try to fix things myself before calling the landlord or even the attractive neighbor (who I will always call before the landlord). Growing up if there was a project that needed doing--finishing the basement, fixing the car, installing the air-conditioner--my dad would enlist one or more of us to help. This went for more unusual projects too like the summer he helped the scouts in the neighborhood make their own kayaks out of wood, canvas, and a lot of oil-based paint. Since I was the same age as the scouts, I may have been a little more willing to help with this particular project. :)

See they even floated

3. Don't forget to laugh

My dad taught me how to laugh. Infact I have his laugh. It’s one of those laughs that comes from your toes, resonates through your entire body, and makes everyone in the movie theater turn around a look at you.

And there was a plethora of opportunities to hone my laughing skills growing up thanks to my dad’s teasings, the occasional tickle-torture, his silly sayings (I don’t know. I don’t care. I’m just glad elephants don’t swear), and his tendency to hum non-existent tunes. I am a firm believer that a family that laughs together stays together, and based on that, my family is stuck with each other for forever. :)

4. Clothing is mandatory, fashion is optional

For much of my childhood my dad's standard outfit consisted of green jeans and a button up short-sleeved shirt complete with pocket protector filled with mechanical pencils and a fountain pen. His hair was always a tidy buzz cut, not because of any military service but because it was easier (though I also think he liked that it intimidated any would-be suitors for my sisters and myself). But from my dad's sense of style, I learned that it didn't matter what you wear or what hairstyle you sport; just find something that's right for you and wear it proud. It also helps if you scowl at any would be scoffers. :)

Dad demonstrating a picture perfect scowl

So in honor of Father's Day I wanted to thank you, Dad. Thank you for teaching me to think, learn, and laugh. I couldn't have made it to adulthood without you. :)

Mono e Mono

Mononucleosis: (aka Mono, The Kissing Disease) Most commonly found in the high school and college student populations. Notoriously spread through mouth to mouth, saliva swapping.

So why am I blogging about it? Because I am currently the proprietor of Hotel Mono. You heard me right. I have finally caught the stupid disease that should have come and gone over a decade ago.

What causes Mono? That would be this little cutie:

The Epstein-Barr Virus

I actually own this giant plush microbe, so I suppose you could say I've had mono for quite awhile. I just had evaded infection until now.

The symptoms are varied, but one of the more common and annoying is the sore throat. It feels like I've gargled a mixture that's equal parts sand, rock salt, vinegar, and cactus prickles. This morning I foolishly examined my throat in a magnified mirror with a flashlight; I saw something like this:


It's as bad as it looks, and that's what finally got me to go to the doctor. I had my fingers crossed for strep, but alas, it turns out crossing one's fingers doesn't do much.

When the Doc looked in my mouth, all he could say was "Wow." Then he checked the lymph nodes in my neck; every last one of them was inflamed. Huh, I guess that's why my neck had been stiff for the last couple weeks.

Then there is that famous symptom, extreme fatigue. I should want to spend days, weeks, and years in bed, but I haven't cared much for sleep. In fact, I haven't cared much about anything. My fatigue has been more emotional than anything, leaving me with a low-grade depression. There's nothing worse than knowing you are fully capable and functional, yet completely apathetic to doing anything. Fortunately this symptom is subsiding.

The bad news is that there isn't much you can do for mono; it will run it's course in about 4 weeks. The good news is that I believe the symptoms, in their entirety, have been evident for about 2.5 weeks. So now all I have to do is sleep, drink fluids, take Advil for the swelling, and avoid kissing anyone. And if any prospective dates are reading this post right now, I won't have to worry about that last one.

Sadest Way to Lose a Friend

It was an ill-fated friendship; I'll give you that. Considering the amount of arguing we've done about religion over the last few months, I suppose it was bound to end this way, but it seems like such a ridiculous reason to end a friendship. Would you end a friendship because the other person refuses to see God, his scriptures, and his plan for the universe the same way you do? Neither would I. But there are others who feel like those are grounds for an old fashioned friendship execution.

Religion for me is a deeply personal thing. I believe what I believe, and it is founded upon my relationship with God. If any person is truly interested in knowing more about it, I would gladly expound upon it. Conversely if a person prefers to hear nothing about my beliefs, I will gladly keep them to myself. Because of this, I don't generally argue about religion. I just find it pointless, like a hamster wheel race to the death.

As I witnessed this terminal friendship gasp for one last breath during the final cardiac arrest, I felt helpless. What could I do? Deny my beliefs? Even to salvage a friendship? Alas, I could not. To deny my belief, is to deny a fundamental part of who I am.

I suppose I should feel fortunate. Just a few generations back my ancestors were chased from city to city and state to state, suffering death, torture, and prison for their beliefs. All I have to suffer is the unfortunate demise of a friendship. Yet somehow that doesn't make it less sucky. All the same, I respect each person's freedom to worship as they will, and if my friend feels that his belief precludes us from being friends, I must respect it and simply walk away, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.

Weird Medicine

I have an odd bump on my back, just to the left of my right shoulder blade. It's about the size of a flattened apricot and is hanging out in the limbo between my skin and muscle. It's not really hard or soft--more like a large, slightly undercooked piece of gnocchi. While you can move it back and forth under the skin, I have discovered that that hurts, and that is why I went to the doctor today.

Dr: What are you here for today?

Me: I have a bump on my back. I figured it's probably just a lipoma, but since it hurts I thought I should have it looked at.

Dr: Have you had a lipoma before?

Me: No, but my dog did?

Dr: Your dog? (attempt to hide a laugh) And did you get the lipomas removed?

Me: Yeah, but they came back.

Dr: They can do that. Do you have any cancer in your family?

Me: My grandma died of skin cancer in her colon?

Dr: What?

Me: Skin cancer. What's that called?

Dr: Melanoma

Me: Yeah, she had a melanoma in her colon.

At about that moment, the doctor began to realize what most of you already know -- me and my life are anything but normal. And of course my bump was no exception. The doctor examined it and discovered that, surprise, surprise, it doesn't fit nicely into any category. It could be a lipoma, muscle strain, or something entirely different. So lucky me gets to have an MRI to find out what the bump is made of. At this point it wouldn't surprise me if they discovered that the bump is actually a gestating alien.

Solvang and Ostriches

Since moving to L.A., I've been hearing about all the really cool things one could do outside of L.A., and a couple weekends ago I got to experience one that I've heard about for quite some time......visit Solvang.


Solvang is a Danish settlement up near Santa Barbara. It has all sorts of old world charm including a windmill, trinket shops, and most importantly Danish Bakeries......nummy, nummy bakeries. There's some excellent grub to be had starting with the giant pretzels (provided you don't ruin it with the accompanying pasteurized processed cheese product). I also got to sample my very first aebleskivers (i.e., Danish pancake balls), which my Scandinavian-descended friends had been telling me about for years. Then there is the Kringle a GIANT pastry that is filled with mazipan goodness (word of warning: it can be somewhat addictive). Of course there are chocolate shops and candy shops and fudge shops.......perhaps it's a good thing I only spent an afternoon there.

Anywho, after having gained 5 kabillion pounds in sweets, I waddled away from town to visit Ostrich Land, an ostrich farm where you can risk life and limb (or finger) to feed the giant birds.


While I slightly exaggerate the risk involved, those fowls are not what you would call warm and fuzzy. They go after their food like a jack-hammer, and they could do some serious damage to anything that gets between them and their food. Just ask my friend whose sunglasses were attacked by one.

After being overwhelmed by the size and lack of manners of the ostriches, I opted to feed the slightly smaller emus. However, they held an intimidation of their own. When you get up close and personal, you can't help but notice the resemblance between these creatures and their ancient ancestors.........the velociraptor.


But I still managed to let them have a little food.........provided they didn't get too close.

Aleigh's Infraction Retraction

*Don't worry I don't get it either.*

Once upon a time, exactly a month ago, I blogged about a thing called Silent Football. I find myself now needing to retract that blog entry. The first rule of Silent Football is you do not talk about Silent Football. No wait, sorry, that's Fight Club.

Anywho Silent Football can't possibly exist. At the risk of sounding like the Church Lady, Silent Football is neither silent nor involves a football, discuss. If such a thing did exist, the rules I laid out would mean that the game would always be evolving and changing. So if two players played together in a game and then played in different games with different people for more than 6 games, and they played together again in another game, there is a high probability they would think the other is playing a game very different from the Silent Football that he/she plays. So then whose game is the real Silent Football and whose is the impostor? Fortunately it doesn't matter because Silent Football doesn't exist.

Nevermind the wikipedia articles, Facebook fan pages, how to websites, and t-shirt sites that all make reference to this clearly farcical game. Have you ever heard of Snipe hunting? It's the same concept (except you won't end up crawling around the woods and making silly whistling calls in the vain attempt of enticing a creature you've never heard of before into a burlap bag). It's just a giant inside joke; a made up concept for a game, that would never happen in real life.........unless someone looked up the rules and decided to start a game. Well, than I suppose it might stop being joke and then might actually be a game. And theoretically somewhere out there in the universe that is a scenario that is being played out in some alternate reality where Silent Football does exist.

But now I'm just being silly. There's no such thing as Silent Football......or is there?

Cry Baby

I hate crying. I really do, so much so I will often laugh when tears would seem more appropriate. Even when I once fell down a flight of stairs--severely injuring my foot along the way--I burst out laughing at the end of it. I can't really explain why I have such an aversion to crying. Perhaps it's because I grew up between two brothers, and a scout troop. Perhaps it's because of that time the family cat scratched me across the face for crying (she was named Princess for a reason). Whatever the reason, I really hate crying.

So I find it completely and utterly frustrating that as a female, I have this tendency to cry at N-O-T-H-I-N-G. What is that all about? Crying at nothing? I could understand if I had lost a limb, been in an accident, had a bad break-up or witnessed a crime. I'm even willing to accept the fact I will sometimes cry at really happy emotional moments like weddings, but crying at nothing is stupid. Just plain dumb, but that doesn't stop me from doing it.

Take today for instance. Nothing was out of the ordinary. I got plenty of sleep. My workload was standard, but for no reason whatsoever the waterworks flipped on. Since I'm not big fan of crying, particularly in public, I'd duck into the bathroom to sob uncontrollably for brief periods of time. But really, is that necessary? Why can't I just reason the tears away? Why can't I simply explain to myself that crying about nothing is a exercise in futility and should not be done. Why? Why? Why? I really despise that the only excuse I can wrangle at all is that I'm a girl, but that just sounds like a cop out. So here I sit crying at nothing, and there's not a darn thing I can do about it. Sometimes I really hate being a girl. :(

Nemesis: The Lexus

This is my parking spot. It is easily identifiable by the dual exhaust burns up against the wall. While there is no sign with my name or even a number painted on the ground, it is my parking spot. I choose this spot on the 5th floor of the parking garage on my first day of work nearly a year ago, and it has been mine ever since......that is until "it" showed up.


One day last summer I drove up, and there "it" was -- a smug, black Lexus occupying my real estate. I was perturbed, but I gave "it" the benefit of the doubt. "It" obviously has accidentally parked in my spot not knowing the spot was already spoken for. But then it happened again and again. Each day I became more indignant. Obviously this egomaniac believed my lowly beat-up Honda Civic to be less important than his luxury Lexus. Whatever, it's not that special, it's got 4-wheels and engine just like mine. Just because my little car didn't have air conditioning or power steering, the bumper was falling off, and the paint was peeling away didn't mean it was any less deserving of the spot.

I soon discovered that Mr. Lexus and myself usually arrived at roughly the same time; it wasn't uncommon for one of us to be directly ahead of the other pulling into the garage. Since I really did not like that "my spot" had become first come, first serve, I would do my best to arrive just a few minutes early to protect my turf.

This went on for months. One of us would pull into the spot and the other would choose a spot, no closer than two spots away. I was generally in a hurry, so I'd jump out of my car and run into work, and Mr. Lexus would stay in his car for some inexplicable reason, so we never had words until that one day.

I had pulled into "my spot," jumped out of car, and went to my trunk to retrieve my daily allotment of Diet Cokes (yes, I have a problem). Just as I was turning to head to the elevator, there was Mr. Lexus waving at me.

I had envisioned a real, class-A jerk, who's ego was so huge you'd wonder how he could actually make it through a door. But here stood before me a shy and slightly timid, middle-aged, Asian man. He introduced himself as James, and made a little joke about how we always seem to be going for the same parking spot. We chatted on our way up our respective offices, and then parted ways.

While things haven't changed that much--he still parks in my spot--gone are the feelings of animosity. How could I possibly stay angry with a such a nice person over something as silly as a parking spot? However, I still consider his Lexus my nemesis, because well, it's kind of fun to have a nemesis. :)

Sick Day

I truly dislike being sick. I find that I'm easily bored and being stuck in my bedroom amongst a pile of used tissues is anything but fun. I've already slept as much as my body will allow, so now what?

Here are a few ideas:

FACEBOOK

- Look at the wall of every single one of your 500 friends.
- Pause to watch a video on dating services before eharmony:

- That gets you thinking about dating, and whatever happened to What's His Face from 10 years ago.
- So you start searching for What's His Face on Facebook, then you remember how much he hated social networking sites and the internet in general, which is why you've never been Facebook friends.

INTERNET

- So you figure you might as well do a quick Google search, no luck. Who knew there were so many guys out there named What's His Face?

YOUTUBE

- Watch the dating in the 80s video again. Laugh and laugh. Thank your lucky stars you weren't dating in the 80s and have never been approached by a guy in a viking costume.
- Watch several videos on dating, one of which has a commercial at the beginning.
- Realize you still haven't seen all the Superbowl commercials, thanks to answering a call from a rather drunk friend during half-time.
- Watch all the super bowl commercials and the half-time show.
- Computer overheats and shuts down (I hear the half-time show had that affect on a lot of people's brains)

LOW-TECH OPTIONS

- Consider: cleaning room, doing laundry, or taking another nap
- Take another nap

HULU

- Wake up.
- Go to Hulu.com to get caught up on that one TV show you haven't seen in awhile.
- Discover you weren't the only one who stopped watching that show, which would explain why it is now canceled.
- Watch the last 4 episodes of each of your favorites shows so they don't get canceled.

TAXES

- It's like gambling, but with a better chance of walking away with money in your pocket.

FOOD

- Look in fridge. Seriously consider a fistful of bread dough with a couple pepperoni stuffed inside, and stick it in the microwave.
- Have soup instead.

BLOG

- blog about it, then do it all over again.

Silent Football

If you are ever invited to play Silent Football, there are a few things you should keep in mind:

#1 It is not a physical sport
#2 There is no football
#3 Any and all rules can be voted upon and changed by the players

Due to #3, the rules become more complex with each game, so you should try your best to get there on time. If you do not, you may very well find yourself facing the rule that latecomers will not be informed of new rules, in which case you get stuck repeating the same infraction 13 times over, because you can't identify what it is. Then, thanks to a vote by the players, that infraction will forever and always be named for you.

The league in which I find myself playing has chosen to conclude each round with the winner taking a dare designed by the other players. Fortunately these are good-natured dares, that are mostly silly and generally embarrassing. Take for instance the poor soul, who won (or more appropriately lost) the first round. He must write a ten-line love poem, post it on his Facebook wall, and tag one of his female friends in it. Furthermore he is forbidden to explain said poem until March.

Considering the potential for embarrassment, I think I got off easy when I won. I simply need to make a plate of goodies for each apartment in my complex and bake a gourmet dinner for one of guys from the game. I'm just glad I don't have to create a main dish with lime green jello, and serve it to dinner guest while wearing a jello ring on my head. Yep, I definitely lucked out with this one. :)

But you still don't know much about Silent Football, do you? Well, I'm afraid there's not much I can do about that. Like Calvinball, you can't play Silent Football the same way twice, so any explanation I might give you could very well end up being completely wrong. My advice to find a game, join in, and make it your own.

Tokens from San Francisco

I had a surprise trip to San Francisco last week. My company decided to have me join my coworkers for a conference in below-grade waterproofing, chimney effects, green roofs, OSHA, and other topics never covered in my psychology or television production college courses. While the talks were informative and interesting, my brain was on overload by day three, so I snuck out during lunch. Since this was my first trip to San Francisco, and I had no other time for sight seeing this was my only opportunity to visit the neighboring vendors.

That's where I met J., a vendor who sells cut coins. He had a whole assortment. Some had sports teams logos, others looked like volleyballs or soccer balls, but this one caught my fancy:


I questioned J. about why this design was on a quarter. I mean wouldn't a four-leaf clover be more fitting on a lucky penny? But J. kindly reminded me that pennies turn green and in turn will turn your skin green (unless you cover the penny with a heavy coat of clear finger nail polish).

Our conversation then turned to the salt flats, John Deere, spinning knives, volleyball courts, Hello Kitty, and super heroes. Before I knew it, I needed to return to my conference, but before I left, J. kindly hand-carved for me this lovely set of earrings:



They were actually supposed to be two charms, like best friends necklaces, for me and my next boyfriend, but where on earth am I supposed to find a guy who:
1) would wear a charm necklace
2) would wear a charm necklace that will turn him green
3) would wear a charm necklace that would turn him green, that was given to me free-of-charge by another guy

I just hope, they won't turn my ears green. Thanks J. :)

Irony Angel

I'd like to believe that once upon a time, up in heaven, we all stood in line to receive our own personal heavenly guardian. Some received a double-armored, fully-reinforced guardian angel capable of stopping speeding trains and preventing serious carpet burns. Others received a fairy-god mother, who could and would grant miraculous blessings when the time was right, like turning pumpkins into princes or visa versa depending on the situation.

Then there's mine.......meet Cuss the Irony Angel

I know what you're thinking, isn't it little weird that the person in charge of my safety and well-being looks like a kid dressed in a makeshift superhero outfit? Probably, but it's mostly ironic. So Cuss isn't too bad at the guardian thing, I mean I'm not dead yet. :) However, Cuss has a highly developed and wicked sense of humor that revolves almost exclusively around irony, and he uses it whenever possible.

Take for instance the following areas in my life that showcase his ironic sense of humor:

Careers / School

I spent a great deal of time and money to get a degree in television production from a art/communication school in Boston. After graduation, I spent a great deal of money to move to LA, the movie and television mecca of the universe, where I sought high and low for work, and where did I eventually find full-time employment? At an engineering firm (could I have gotten any further away from the arts?) based out of....wait for it....Boston.

And let's not forget.....

My Dating Life

As a goody-goody Mormon who never drinks or parties, one would expect my dating life to be about as interesting as watching grass grow in slow motion. Yet my coworkers gather round my desk on Monday mornings for my dating updates, because ironically my dating life is ANYTHING but boring. Don't believe me? Just ask my coworkers about my NYE weekend. They were making me retell that story for the rest of the week.

There are of course oodles of ironies within my dating situations but unfortunately you will not get to hear said stories. With an Irony Angel by my side, I can guarantee that the one time I post a dating story, will be the one time the guy in question reads my blog. I don't need odds like that. Sorry. :)

Then there is.......

The Laugh

If you have known me for longer than 2-hours there's a very good possibility you are familiar with my laugh. It has been compared to hyenas, chipmunks, dolphins, and/or guinea pigs. The one thing that everyone agrees upon is that the laugh is contagious and soon everyone is in a good mood, particularly if I get stuck in a laugh attack. However, what's ironic is that the conditions necessary for such an attack has nothing to do with my being happy. In fact, sometimes I laugh the hardest when I am absolutely miserable and want nothing more than to curl up in the fetal position and cry. Take for instance Tuesday. It was a horrible, no good, very bad day, then someone said something silly that struck me funny and my coworker caught this footage of me.

As you can tell Cuss the Irony Angel has had a very a active role in my life. And you know what? I wouldn't have it any other way. It just makes my life much more interesting and entertaining. Wherever you are Cuss, I tip my hat to you. :)