Pika-What?

I was stopped by security loading the car at the old place. It's like 10pm, no one else is around. I have absolutely no idea why I'm being questioned.

"We were called about a person in a suspicious head covering loitering in the parking lot," he explains, takes one good look at me and just bursts into uncontrollable laughter.

Are. You. Serious? It's a pikachu hat with floppy ears and dangling Poke balls! Who found this scary? I cannot even imagine how ancient this human must have been.

Pets Are Messier Than Children

Took a little nap on the couch, which is impressive when you are being climbed all over by a small human with pointy elbows and knees. Maybe 20 minutes tops.

Woke up to find a cat disaster spanning 3 rooms. In which Intruder "the fluffy one" Willmington pooped, got it stuck in her butt fur, drug her ass ALL the way down the hallway, then finally got it off in the living room. So that is how I've spent my morning.

And all I could think about while on my hands and knees like Cinderella with a scrub brush was about how when I was pregnant everyone balked, "Oh, what are you gonna do about all the diapers? Babies are gross." Like, have you owned a pet?! Something else's bodily functions was already a part of my daily life years before having a kid.

I've cleaned up way more dog, cat, bird, hamster, turtle, and snake excrement than I have human. The contest isn't even close.

Hello, Hank

Pardon me a moment while I geek out about being noticed by senpai™. Last week I was psyched when Hank Green (Sci Show, Crash Course, Vlog Bros, Project for Awesome, VidCon, etc.) followed me on tumblr.

I don't really get excited about celebrities, internet or otherwise, but Hank and the people he works with do a lot of wonderful things and so it's very cool exception.

Anyway, so he followed me last week and I thought that was the bee's knees but also figured his dash was probably very full and he would rarely ever be looking at my posts. Let alone my original content.

Then I got to my computer today to find a post I'd made last night on the brink of sleep had gotten over 600 notes in under an hour. Now, it's well known the posts I make while falling asleep are always my most popular but not that popular.

Turns out Hank reblogged it. Also it's indirectly about poop.
*Laughs into the sunset forever and ever.*

My Writing Cliche

Someone remarked that I write a lot of my characters as mothers. Like writing mothers was my thing. I was confused by this because, surely not? Of all the characters I've written I could only think of a few off the top of my head.

But this seemed to be a widely held notion, so, being very confused and having nothing else to do with 20 minutes of my afternoon aside from have a migraine, I decided to grab a pencil and see if maybe *I* was wrong. The stats are thus:

Of 17 female characters written...

4 were mothers or had the desire to become such
13 were not mothers and had no desire to become such
1 was gay
4 were bisexual
9 were asexual, sex-repulsed, prude, or chaste

Turns out writing asexuals (or women who are otherwise chaste) is more my thing. An equally unexpected result, honestly.

Some further stats for curiosity's sake:

Of 17 female characters written...

10 were physically strong
7 were physically weak
13 had above average intellect
4 had average or below intellect
4 were married or in long term relationships
13 were not married or in long term relationships
6 wanted to conquer the world
11 did not want to conquer the world
2 of the 6 who wanted to conquer the world succeeded
9 were leaders
8 were followers
7 were WOC
7 were not WOC
5 had disabilities that impacted their lives significantly
12 did not have disabilities

So my thing is to write intellectually and physically superior women who have no interest in motherhood or men and positive life goals. LOL. Welp, the more you know.

Brussel, Bro Russel

While drunkenly discussing the origin of the name Brussel Sprouts (sometimes seen as Brussel’s Sprouts), I suggested maybe the guy who discovered them was named Brussel. “Bro Russel,” I further explain, trying to stifle my own laughter. “The brother of Russel.” I don’t know why I find this so hilarious, but I’m shaking with laughter and no one else is laughing.

I go on to declare my next born son shall be named Brussel, because he'll technically be a bro Russel (though his brother's name would be Jude not Russel). To which Aaron disagrees, "Only if you had twins. Then you could name one Russel and the other one Brussel. That's the only way he can be Bro Russel."

I laugh until I'm crying at this, mostly because I've gotten Aaron to oblige my ridiculousness. It was only half a glass of wine, I'm just a light weight who'd forgotten to eat lunch.

Inappropriate Love Letter

In high school , my BFF and I used to hang out at this local cafe called Bradey's in Kent near the university. On Fridays they'd have open mic poetry night and we'd all write poetry right at the table to recite. These days it's a Starbucks, but to us it'll always be Bradey's.

One time an older gentleman approached our table and left me an envelope. He must have been at least 30. I was 16. It was a love letter waxing poetic about the gentleness of my smile and my youthful beauty and how in a prefect world he could tell me these things face tho face and it'd be okay, but since it wasn't the letter would have to do. Throughout he called me nothing but Dearest.

After giving me the envelope he paid his bill and left. We never saw the man again. Which is probably for the best, honestly, because it was wildly inappropriate. I definitely did not look "older" than my age. But for the longest time thereafter my BFF jokingly referred to me as Dearest. It was an inside joke that I nearly forgot about until this shirt arrived from her yesterday and I'm not even sure she herself remembered before sending it.

I wonder what ever became of that man?

Joining the X-Files

Dreamt I got the weekend off, but for whatever reason Aaron didn't. So Emil took me to his family's cabin in the mountains. Then we immediately had a misadventure.

While collecting fire wood, we found a body in the river. I realize the guy is still alive but trapped, so Emil frees him. No sooner than he does, the stranger tries to kill us, so we run back to the cabin with him chasing us.

Once inside I pull out what is possibly the world's oldest functioning gun from an old WW2 crate and shoot the guy dead. Emil then, without question or hesitation, dissects the body in the basin tub so that we can hide it. 

When an old woman unexpectedly shows up having heard a commotion, we explain away the blood we had yet a chance to clean up as a canning accident. "We were making our own tomato paste, you see." She buys it.

We spend the weekend drinking away the fact we killed a man. By Monday people think we had an affair when really we were just closer because we almost died and then expertly concealed a murder together. Quite a bonding experience.

Later, because of these events, I go on to join the fbi working on the X-Files. ??? Emil becomes a mountain hermit and my greatest source of intel. ???