It Wasn't An Oompa Loompa

The Halloween Rundown:

I got to work this morning, and the secretary at one of my work sites was in my office:

XX:  you have to help me!
Me:  oh crap, what happened?
XX:  I NEED a costume! Everybody else in the office is dressed up!
Me:  I thought you had one, what happened to that?
XX:  Well, I was in my negative last night, and so I didn't finish putting it together

(She uses the phrase "in my  negative" to talk about her state of mind when she just has a hard time and can't deal with stuff ... and I LOVE it ... from now on, I will be "in my negative")

Me:  ok, what's the plan?
XX:  Well, I put my hair up with a wire hanger, see?

(She did, in fact, have two braids sticking out from the top of her head in a backward sort of direction, and I thought it looked so cool, I asked her how to do it, so that I could wear my hair like that sometime, too.  XX:  oh cool! you're gonna do it for Halloween, too?  Me:  um, yeah, Halloween, that's definitely what I was thinking of).

Me:  very cool
XX:  And now, I'm gonna be a cockroach
Me:  what?
XX:  yes, I'm gonna make a cockroach costume out of brown butcher paper, see?

(She did, in fact, have the biggest piece of brown butcher paper I've ever seen).

Me:  uh huh
XX:  and I need you to help cut it to fit around me, and then staple it to me
Me:  you want me to staple the paper TO you?  I think that's illegal
XX:  then staple it AROUND me
Me:  ok, got it, stapling around ...
XX:  make sure you get the shape right
Me:  got it
XX:  and make sure it's secure so it won't fall off
Me:  got it
XX:  and remember to draw the lines on it going in the right direction
Me:  cockroach butt lines .... got it
XX:  good, how's it look?

And then, my friends, a few staples, and marker traces later (the good kind of marker, the one that smells like paint thinner and makes the moment a little better), the makeshift paper cockroach costume began to take shape, and her hanger braids looked like antennae, and one of the maintenance guys made her cockroach wings -- like those giant, terrifying flying cockroaches -- out of spare maintenance stuff he scrounged up.  And it was Beautiful.  And terrifying.  And I LOVED it.

I wish I could post a picture for you, but I was too wrapped up in living in the cockroach moment that I forgot to take one.  But, trust me, the picture that you have in your head right now, is pretty much dead-on-balls accurate.

XX:  I love it.  Now where the hell is my Orkin Man?!

----

Later in the day, I was headed to another work site, and I saw a cool oompa loompa lurking at a crosswalk.  And then as I got closer, I realized that it wasn't an oompa loompa.  It was, in fact, a dude with a very hard-working spray tan.

----

And for tonight ... they've left me in charge of the assorted candy bowl.  There may or may not be any Milky Way's left in the mix for the children.

Uh, Rabbit? Dude?

I've always wanted to get a caricature done of myself, because I think caricatures are awesome.  But, I figure it could go one of two ways ... either I end up with giant awesome features like the lady from Modern Family, or I end up looking like The Mad Hatter.  I don't know.  It's a toss up.  And by toss up, I mean that I'll probably end up in a picture with The Cheshire Cat.  And the rabbit that's so obsessed with his watch.  I can never remember that dude's name.  And maybe in the picture, the three of us could be drinking so that I could think that I looked like the lady from Modern Family, and the rabbit wouldn't notice that I only call him "dude" because I can't remember what the hell his name actually is, and the cat could just be a drunk creepy cat.  Everybody wins.

That's Why Everybody Likes Forrest Gump

I waved to a stranger like an idiot today because from far away I thought it was my co-worker.  It wasn't my co-worker.  And it was too late to fake a hair toss.  And the wave was full of too much gusto to be covered up by a fake hair toss anyway.  Because when I wave to my friends, I wave to them like Forrest Gump waves to Lieutenant Dan.  Because it makes people feel special, yo.

I Broke The Damn Peanuts

This is how normal people open the peanut box.  Because they read directions.  And pay attention.

This is how I open the peanut box.  Because I have the attention span of a mosquito.

 

 

And Now I'm Gonna Have To Sterilize My Foot

I accidentally stepped on a beetle.  A giant fucking beetle.  On my porch.  In my socks.  It blew the fuck up and covered my sock in gross fucking beetle juice.  I might have to throw away my sock now.  And I'm going to have to sterilize my foot.  Because I can't deal with gross beetle germs living on my heel.  And I don't know if beetles carry rabies or that mouse disease (I can't remember what that one's called because after the millionth potential plague the news talked about, the part of my brain that can process symptoms and rationality huddled in the corner and started singing "Come Together" - The Beatles' version, which is now completely ironic).  And I don't know if the germs can be transferred through sock and skin without some sort of bite.  I hope not, because if the contamination works anything like Spiderman, I'll be hanging out with Michael Keaton sooner than I'd have thought, and without the fucking Batmobile.  Shit.

This is the beetle that I stepped on.  It's on the cement that's painted beige.  That's not skin.

Holy Shit I Started A Blog

Hang on to your asses, people.  I started a blog.

I've received a lot of encouragement about starting a blog for a while now, so one day it really hit me and I was like, huh. no shit? they think I should start a blog?  And then I had to think about it for a long time after that, because writing a blog should really be something that you do for you, right? And then once I decided that what I usually wrote for my own benefit and solace could give someone else a laugh, or maybe say, hey dude, I know what you're going through, you're not alone, I was like, ok let's do this. So here it is.

I really don't know who I'm more nervous for, me or the people that might read this.  Actually, no.  As I type this, I realize that's wrong.  I'm definitely more nervous for y'all.  Because I already know that my awkwardness knows no boundaries.  So, just a heads up ... If you're easily offended, I'll try to remember to post something crafty or Hallmark-ish from time to time, but weird shit is really more my style.  Not by choice, but just because I'm weird.  And OCD.  And unofficially ADD.  And probably a hypochondriac.  And probably also a little bit unofficially clinically depressed, too.  And so, my friends, because of this Long Island Iced Tea of personality traits, the new people reading this will be like "what the hell?", and the few of you who know me in real life will be all, "(sigh) yeah. that's her. that's definitely her."
So to you, my wonderful readers (and hopefully one day there are many of you), as we begin this journey of impropriety, humor, profanity, and general awesomeness, I wish you ...
Good luck and Godspeed.