I wrote a post but it was all "first world problems", so I scrapped it.

I don't even feel like paraphrasing it because it was really lame and whiny. Here is something funny to let you know I'm still alive.

[chirp] LOW BATTERY

Gather 'Round and Let Me Tell You A Story:

I was awoken at 5 AM by my Mr. yelling from the bathroom.

"What is that?" He asked.

Then the dog jumped up and half-woofed.

"What?"

"You didn't hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Well you clearly didn't hear it."

"So why do you keep asking me?" Was I talking in my sleep? "Is everything ok?"

[chirp] LOW BATTERY

"Oh that? No, I didn't hear it before now."

"I think it's the smoke alarm in the hallway of our unit."

[chirp] LOW BATTERY

The Mr. comes back to bed and settles in next to the dog.

"Um, you aren't going to take care of it? We can't sleep through the low battery alarm!" I said.

The Mr. steps into the hall and tries to reach the alarm from standing on the ground. He gets the step stool. He pulls it down and somehow activates the smoke alarm function. Then the carbon monoxide function.

[chirp] LOW BATTERY
[scree-eam] SMOKE DETECTED
[whiiiirrrll] CARBON MONOXIDE DETECTED

Now we are in a literal 3 alarm situation at 5:15 AM. He pulls the machine apart. No battery to be seen. He starts pulling on wires and circuit boards. The alarms persist. He runs to the kitchen and yells:

"Bring me a hammer!"

I deliriously wander the hallway in an effort to not only find a hammer under stress, but look like I know where he keeps tools. Because this girl scout is both helpful AND supportive.

The Mr. realizes that my support is purely superficial and he finds his own hammer. Taking the whole screaming mess to the kitchen sink, he starts a'smashing.

"Are you sure that... ok... don't hurt yourself," I said.

After a couple good whacks the battery pops out of the front of the panel, as I'm sure all batteries on modern alarms do. I go to clean up the pieces but the Mr. told me to leave it. I've seen enough Law and Order to know that the sociopath isn't won over at 5:20 after a violent binge, so I leave the crime scene and we head back to bed to try and fall back asleep for 20 minutes before the usual alarms go off.

At least we know how to deactivate those.

YAAAASSSS KWEEEEEN #Thrive

I'm so dog tired.

Thanks be to those who have kept me up late and early with wonderful things lately:
B.Lill
Peace by Peace
Mom
G
Dad
KBCI (Like TCBY only they pour the yogurt into your bare hands)
Mr.

---

If you're like me then you're looking for the 24 hour energy shots and praying for November when life straight up peters out...and if you ARE, then here are some things to keep you going:

If you need an Instagrammer to follow (and I know you DO), find @SheHasHadIt and please don't forget to read all the hashtags. Aloud. To someone you trust.

If you need to go to college, go to Harvey Mudd. Strange name. Excellent ROI.

If you want to get a job, try working for YOUR MOM... or in this feller's case YOUR DAD!

"Hi, my name's Shane. I'd be excellent for this position because I used to work as YOUR SON for MY FATHER in the KITCHEN of MENTAL HEALTH."

Issss good for my health #YaKnowWhudImmaSayun ?

You Had Me At "Reiki Engergy"

Click to enlarge.

I've been searching for a good, simple band I can wear instead of my jewel-y wedding rings. I want to travel lighter and be able to sleep with them on when I'm away from home. Currently, I have to take them off at night (hand swelling, jewel prongs get caught on sheets/hair/eyeballs) and I am always afraid that if I take them off I'll lose them. Plus, my friend Chelsey has a rose gold band and its so cute!

Enter: smooth, simple, inexpensive band.

Enter: fallingleafjewelery made with Reiki Energy and love.

Although I assume this ring has the power of levitation, I'm going to continue my search. I may come back to it if I don't find a ring that promises eternal good hair days or tax immunity.

Flip-It Friday: At What Age Did You Become Yourself?

THIS.

Every since I was a baby I wanted no one's help. 

STAHPIT was my first word. (As in, "Stop trying to help me" ... or maybe, "Stop touching me.")

Either way I was hopelessly I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T:

"She cook, she clean, never smell like onion rings"

(This video is hilarious and I don't know why. Maybe it's how censored it is.)

So one day I decided I didn't need help dressing myself. 

I got out everything red I had and put it all on at once. 

My debut elicited laughter and I went straight back into my room to pout.

Now I realize that that was my true self. 

Hopelessly independent and critically susceptible to public opinion. 

When did you realize your true self? 

I always imaged it was around the 4th or 5th grade, but maybe I'm just projecting my own experience on everyone. Something about being old enough to think for yourself but young enough to make bold statements. 

Whad Up My Neaner?!

My momma's so awesome that she let's us make up nicknames for her even when they are unflattering, irreverent and/or ridiculous.

This is for your, Neaner!

(Dad, make Mom get on the internet when she gets home. I know she could probably use a laugh when she's done with her Mom's doctor's appointments this week.)

I wonder if drunk people ever try to "santa" down a chimney...?

This past weekend my Father in Law (FIL) asked my Mr., in front of me, if he ever got sick of my positive attitude. I piped up saying, "You and I are more alike than you know!"*

See, he doesn't read this blog. He doesn't know how much I complain on here. Just like you guys might not know how much I am really positive in real life.

So I decided to tell you what I DO like for once.

Twitter jokes. Brevity + Humor = Speaka-muh-language.
Flat shoes. Marrying a short man and living in a walkable city means that ditching the heals is a welcome necessity.
My job. This is the first job I've ever really liked.

My life overall right now.

The Mr. and I are keeping an eye on one of our neighbor's places while they're away getting married and said couple has roof access. They have a cool built-out deck area and gave us the OK to jump up there while they were gone.

Last night after getting home from a fast weekend away (thanks for coming out, Berta!), we got the neighbor's mail and decided to check out the roof while delivering it. A storm seemed to be approaching from all directions but the winds were low and the air still warm. We stayed outside until the drops were fat enough to make you blink, taking in a complete 360 view as the tallest building nearby with roof-access. A beautiful local church steeple, smoke stacks on renovated warehouses turned lofts, and The Sears Tower all seemed our peers. We felt a little Fiddler. A little Mary Poppins. Or maybe I was the only one who felt I could break out into song. But being up on the roof, being unparalleled reminded me of how wonderfully, simultaneously alone and together I can be in a city of millions.


---
*He's a glass-half-full kinda guy... but there's acid in his glass and he's being water boarded with it.

Come on in and Laugh with Me

I saw an SUV dragging a case of beer that was caught under it's suspension on the highway to work today.


I was checking out this really cool woodland house on Apartment Therapy and loved the way one of the two men described their style:

Our style is a mix of laid back Hamptons and California ease. Think the gay male version of Ina Garten, “and who doesn’t love that?”

Michele-ah Bella Boo-Boo Bachmann isn't seeking reelection. If anything her outspoken sound bites have reinforced that I need to put the keyboard down sometimes.

In August 2006, the Minneapolis Star Tribune reported that in March 2006, Bachmann was on a Minneapolis radio show advocating for a state constitutional amendment to ban same-sex marriage. A caller asked her to explain how he, a heterosexual, would be harmed if his gay neighbors were allowed to marry. Bachmann replied saying, "Public schools would have to teach that homosexuality and same-sex marriage are normal, natural and that maybe children should try them." The Star Tribune also reported that Bachmann has publicly referred to homosexuality as "sexual dysfunction," "sexual identity disorders," and "personal enslavement" that leads to "sexual anarchy." (via)

On a similar note, Bob Dole launches up out of his wheel chair for five points on today's Republican party. One of them is just. one. word:

3) Nixon?

She's 41, she's single, and she doesn't care that you don't have teeth.

Just because it's $40 doesn't mean you need it.

Click below to the jump to see what I had to talk the Mr. off a ledge from buying.

The item elicits such reviews as:

"Take a second to watch the video above, then recoil in horror, then read our review."

"Oh, look what it says on the box: "Winner of the Most Likely To Maintain Its Shape Through Your Entire Digestive Tract Award."

 "As Can't Be Unseen on TV!"

Salespeople of the World, Stop Following Me Around Bed Bath and Beyond

Overall, I don't jive with people in sales. Some of my good friends have sales jobs and other good friends have the knack for sales. And I love these people. I just don't like whatever gene makes someone sales-y.

Allow me to explain.

Last night I got up the courage to go to dinner with friends. Anymore I find myself forcing it to just go out in public. I'm just going through a hermit phase/lifetime.

I knew that this dinner with friends was at a healthy restaurant and that there would be a little presentation about how some of the girls in attendance were doing a healthy cleanse with a few key products.*

I put that aside when I tromped out in the rain to a clustered part of the city for dinner. When I walked into the restaurant I found that the rain** had deterred many of the other ladies so I was front-and-center for a no-formal-pressure-but-really-there's-social-pressure presentation on the healthy products. Think Mary Kay but for fiber chews and protein powder.

I did my best not to grimace from the gross vegan food*** and the overly obvious sales discussion as the nice girl who was presenting was right in front of me and looking into my eyes often. I alternated between being mad at her for pretending to know me**** and pitying her for having to win over our small crowd.

You know how you sometimes duck into a Bed Bath and Beyond in an outside mall just to escape the summer heat or see what Yankee Candle is on sale but it's their policy that at least 3 sales people have to ask you if you need any help by the time you make it past the sheet section and by that time you are worried that someone thinks your stealing milk duds and who buys milk duds at BB&B, let alone steals them and you get so flustered you walk out...

What was I saying?

I hate sales people because I feel pressured and that assumptions are being made about me. I don't like feeling like I'm being sold anything. I want to make my own decisions at my own pace and I want to be informed about the products through my own research, not just take someone's word who's seeking commission.

But I did have a free, vegan chocolate protein shake this morning and it wasn't half bad.


* Writing on the gee-dee wall.
** And possibly the sales presentation
*** I usually like this kinda stuff, but I didn't like this place.
**** Girl, I watch more documentaries on how food is produced in our nation than you've got time for and have already cut waaaaay back on diary, red meat, meat at all and know how to bake gluten-free.

Why Comedians Are The Saddest

Source: greatbigcanvas.com viaRoxanne on Pinterest

This is one of those rare occasions where I know the exact type of image I want for a post: the theater masks of comedy and tragedy.

I imagine that people think that comedians are the happiest of people. If it is your job to make others laugh, wouldn't it make sense that you're happy yourself?

I'm sure there are happy comedians out there, I just think their in the minority.

I think, comedians give away their happiness so that others can laugh. I think they live normal or even strained lives and see the silver lining or, more often, the dark, funny side for us. They get in the worst of pickles and chose to expose their pitfalls for our amusement.

The ultimate "we'll laugh about this later."

But they still experience the worst. Relationships falter. Expenses mount. Weight never seems to balance (physical and emotional).

So by that logic, they would just be as sad as anyone else, right? Maybe not.

I think comedians are the saddest because:

1) their comedy is a defense mechanism - they aren't looking on the bright side, they are looking at the funny side (which is most likely not so bright and can be self-deprecating or downright awful)
2) the illusion of a happy comedian makes others overlook the severity of their sadness

Look at your favorite comedian. Do they struggle with family issues? Substance abuse? Emotional distress? Are they singled out for their weight, gender, sexual orientation, ethnic background, or other physical attribute? Are these the very reasons you find them funny? If you were to describe them, would you have a hard time not mentioning that they're fat/Jewish/gay?

What do you think?

The Internet Just Won't Quit

Bear Sleeping Bag.

Check out the comment.

Pissing into the Wind, Shooting into the Sky

Referring to Chicago.

Referring to Austrialia.

Referring to an actual conversation around the actual water cooler today:

C-title Executive: The drought is so bad in Wisconsin. The trees and lakes are really showing it. I blame the Democrats.

VP-title: Yeah if the Republicans had their way, we'd send the military to bomb the drought right outta there.

***

No conclusions need to be drawn, I just thought it was all coincidentally funny.