Dear Lovebirds,
I am one of you. I am here today to stand on a mountain top and sing, to go to the depths of the ocean, traverse the entanglements of the jungle and the barren landscape of the desert, just to proclaim my love. Were not together yet, but, I can only imagine; I will come home after a long day of work and school and it will be sitting there like a ray of sunshine beckoning me to come close, to stroke it ever so gently, to smell its beautiful fragrance. OOOOh my love! Just the mere thought of you reveals the mysteries of the world. Woah is me, how I think about you every chance I get, your big green leafy leaves, and the fruit you bear. Your cute little red terra-cotta pot, the dark soil that nurtures your growth, and the water I should one day feed you on. For in reality folks my love goes not to a woman but rather a plant. Im thinking, maybe a cactus.
I know readers your thinking to yourself, this guy is a nut job, and maybe I am, but I like to think of myself as a romantic nut job, at least. The other day it occurred to me, that its time after three and half years of selfishness, to start caring for something else. And since the dating prospects are not forming a sensible queue, I figured a plant would be a good substitution. Something that can bask in my affection, reciprocate when i make it dinner, and bring me flowers instead of me bringing it flowers. Yes a plant is perfect for me. And all I want to do is make art, write books, create plays, sing songs, and act in feature films that glorify my plant. It is already the object of my love and desire but non the less...... a dilemma has occurred. Even though the love exist for this plant, Im not sure what kind to get.
At first I wanted to get a real leafy plant something small and intimate but with a lot of green. But then the thought occurred to me something with flowers might be nice. I've never owned a plant before, so maybe it should be low in maintenance. Something similar to the kind of women I like; smells nice, comes out when the sun is shining, low maintenance, soft to the touch, and doesn't leave after a season. And even though I dont really like thorny women, a cactus still sounds nice. Not knowing where to find cactus I recently tried the grocery store which seemed somewhat promising. Unfortunately Jewel Osco doesn't have the best plant selection, in reality they only have two types. But non the less I stood there for 20 minutes trying to decide if pet grass would look good on my window sill. I even asked the lady at the meat counter what she thought, and judging from her apathetic reaction I started to doubt the grass option. After leaving Jewel empty handed I went home to really think.
And so readers I need your help. Please give me suggestions on a plant the might be nice for my kitchen. It doesn't get a lot of natural sunlight, and sometimes I forget to water, but I think I can manage three times a week. I don't know if I want flowers, or if I just want something green, but definitely nothing bigger than a rabbit. Winter is near so a vegetable plant might not be the best option. But if you have solutions then please send them to me. Remember this is to be the sole object of my love, so it has to be good, choose well, but please choose because I am starting to get lonely.
I will leave you with a quote from my roommate in Berlin, "Oh, ryan, these plants are going die!." and indeed every last one of them died within a four week period.
Anne I dedicate this post to you.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Saturday, September 19, 2009
New Roomate
Dear exterminator,
Get that thing out of my house, now!
The other day I arrived home after a long day of work and school and went straight to my kitchen to prepare dinner. Upon grabbing the bread from the refrigerator to prepare a first class meal of toast and peanut butter, I was greeted by a dark gray mouse. He was hiding behind the toaster and ran across the window sill, behind the dishes, and underneath a towel lying on the far counter. To say the least, I freaked out!!!! Now I wasn't as bad as my mother who upon seeing a mouse in her house in the mid 90s stood on the top of the couch and screamed for what seemed like 3 hours. But it definitely got my heart racing. And instead of cornering the mouse and finishing this silliness once and for all, I backed my way out of the room to calm down (I was afraid to turn my back on a 1 inch mouse in case he attacked me like a million pitbulls fighting for their last meal). After catching my breath I realized this might potentially be my end. I was the only one in the house. I went back armed with my running shoes on and the longest broom I could find. I approached the dish towel in which the mouse had ran under five minutes previous and wIth one epic blow struck the towel and sent it floating to the floor, with no mouse. The mouse had somehow escaped to a new hiding place, and I had a strange feeling he was just waiting to attack. So I ran back into the other room to call everyone I knew. Being alone I needed consoling.
After everyone on the phone laughed at my hysterics of finding a small field mouse, I decided to turn towards a real sense of comfort... the internet. I was searching for solutions on how to get rid of this vermin that was destroying the basic foundations of my emotional life. For all I knew he could be carrying the black plague, and I would lie dead in my house for weeks spurring the downfall of humanity. I needed solutions and I needed them fast.
Some of the solutions I wanted to use were not economically or environmentally feasible, like putting my entire neighborhood inside one of those tents and fumigating until all things that ever moved were dead. I started searching for homemade solutions. The best and most humane solution was a trick to place a toilet paper roll on the edge of a counter with peanut butter inside. You then place a trash can under the toilet paper roll and wait for your mouse to climb inside and topple into the trash can. After a few sleepless nights of coexisting with George (I named him George), I decide enough is enough. I put up the trap and waited to take the trash out.
I went to bed hoping all would go well and I could go upon living a normal life free of utter terror. But.... when I woke up in the morning the toilet paper roll had been pushed back onto the counter and the peanut butter that I placed within the roll was all but eaten. George had gotten the better of me. After 15 more variations similar to this I realized I was just feeding George and that if this went on he might reproduce and I would have many Georges running around creating the downfall of human existence.
After my failure to capture George the humane way, I have resorted to several different tactics. First I called my landlord who claims his solution will be poison. But I dont want poison because if George dies in some vent, he will begin to smell and attract insects, snakes, rodents, bears, and other animals that are attracted to smells. But I dont have to worry so much about this, because my landlord seems to be the kind of guy that gets to problems when he damn well feels like it. And when I called him he didnt seem as if he felt like it.
So my next solution was to rid the place of all food on the counters, lower drawers and cabinets. If I just keep my place really clean George will get the picture that the free buffet is over and he will move on to terrorize some other household. I have been doing this well for almost a week and still I see mouse dropping everywhere, which means he's feeding off some food source I know nothing about. So what do I do? Im thinking about buying actual traps but this seems expensive and unnecessary. I don't really want to kill the little guy I just want him to leave and never come back. But maybe death is his only option, he has driven me to complete paranoia. Every few minutes I hear a little rustling somewhere within the house and I go out armed with my broom that is now always at my side, and poke at everything that could be a potential hiding spot.
Everything that happens in my house is now blamed on George. My oven is reading that a "connection failure occured", the lights sometimes flicker, and the dryer didnt dry my clothes properly. All of these things are George, and he is causing me to not sleep. I dont even leave the house anymore in hopes I might catch him. I now have dark circles under my eyes and walk like a hermit everywhere I go. And yet, somehow he still evades me. Every scratch that I have on my skin and every sound that is louder than a pin drop is attributed to my furry friend. One of us has to go, and it might just be me.
Ok well in reality its going to be George, but please this insanity needs to end. I was once an intelligent dignified person, but anymore if you were to look there is no difference between me and the crazy man that sleeps outside of my house. Who knows maybe George torments him as well.
I relate my experience with the scene from Annie Hall in which Woody Allen goes to kill a spider armed with a tennis racket and copy of the national review, he comes out of the bathroom completely and utterly defenseless, complaining how its the size of a Buick.
The utter insanity, what am I to do!
Readers if you have ever experienced a mouse problem please tell me your story, and what you did to solve it.
Get that thing out of my house, now!
The other day I arrived home after a long day of work and school and went straight to my kitchen to prepare dinner. Upon grabbing the bread from the refrigerator to prepare a first class meal of toast and peanut butter, I was greeted by a dark gray mouse. He was hiding behind the toaster and ran across the window sill, behind the dishes, and underneath a towel lying on the far counter. To say the least, I freaked out!!!! Now I wasn't as bad as my mother who upon seeing a mouse in her house in the mid 90s stood on the top of the couch and screamed for what seemed like 3 hours. But it definitely got my heart racing. And instead of cornering the mouse and finishing this silliness once and for all, I backed my way out of the room to calm down (I was afraid to turn my back on a 1 inch mouse in case he attacked me like a million pitbulls fighting for their last meal). After catching my breath I realized this might potentially be my end. I was the only one in the house. I went back armed with my running shoes on and the longest broom I could find. I approached the dish towel in which the mouse had ran under five minutes previous and wIth one epic blow struck the towel and sent it floating to the floor, with no mouse. The mouse had somehow escaped to a new hiding place, and I had a strange feeling he was just waiting to attack. So I ran back into the other room to call everyone I knew. Being alone I needed consoling.
After everyone on the phone laughed at my hysterics of finding a small field mouse, I decided to turn towards a real sense of comfort... the internet. I was searching for solutions on how to get rid of this vermin that was destroying the basic foundations of my emotional life. For all I knew he could be carrying the black plague, and I would lie dead in my house for weeks spurring the downfall of humanity. I needed solutions and I needed them fast.
Some of the solutions I wanted to use were not economically or environmentally feasible, like putting my entire neighborhood inside one of those tents and fumigating until all things that ever moved were dead. I started searching for homemade solutions. The best and most humane solution was a trick to place a toilet paper roll on the edge of a counter with peanut butter inside. You then place a trash can under the toilet paper roll and wait for your mouse to climb inside and topple into the trash can. After a few sleepless nights of coexisting with George (I named him George), I decide enough is enough. I put up the trap and waited to take the trash out.
I went to bed hoping all would go well and I could go upon living a normal life free of utter terror. But.... when I woke up in the morning the toilet paper roll had been pushed back onto the counter and the peanut butter that I placed within the roll was all but eaten. George had gotten the better of me. After 15 more variations similar to this I realized I was just feeding George and that if this went on he might reproduce and I would have many Georges running around creating the downfall of human existence.
After my failure to capture George the humane way, I have resorted to several different tactics. First I called my landlord who claims his solution will be poison. But I dont want poison because if George dies in some vent, he will begin to smell and attract insects, snakes, rodents, bears, and other animals that are attracted to smells. But I dont have to worry so much about this, because my landlord seems to be the kind of guy that gets to problems when he damn well feels like it. And when I called him he didnt seem as if he felt like it.
So my next solution was to rid the place of all food on the counters, lower drawers and cabinets. If I just keep my place really clean George will get the picture that the free buffet is over and he will move on to terrorize some other household. I have been doing this well for almost a week and still I see mouse dropping everywhere, which means he's feeding off some food source I know nothing about. So what do I do? Im thinking about buying actual traps but this seems expensive and unnecessary. I don't really want to kill the little guy I just want him to leave and never come back. But maybe death is his only option, he has driven me to complete paranoia. Every few minutes I hear a little rustling somewhere within the house and I go out armed with my broom that is now always at my side, and poke at everything that could be a potential hiding spot.
Everything that happens in my house is now blamed on George. My oven is reading that a "connection failure occured", the lights sometimes flicker, and the dryer didnt dry my clothes properly. All of these things are George, and he is causing me to not sleep. I dont even leave the house anymore in hopes I might catch him. I now have dark circles under my eyes and walk like a hermit everywhere I go. And yet, somehow he still evades me. Every scratch that I have on my skin and every sound that is louder than a pin drop is attributed to my furry friend. One of us has to go, and it might just be me.
Ok well in reality its going to be George, but please this insanity needs to end. I was once an intelligent dignified person, but anymore if you were to look there is no difference between me and the crazy man that sleeps outside of my house. Who knows maybe George torments him as well.
I relate my experience with the scene from Annie Hall in which Woody Allen goes to kill a spider armed with a tennis racket and copy of the national review, he comes out of the bathroom completely and utterly defenseless, complaining how its the size of a Buick.
The utter insanity, what am I to do!
Readers if you have ever experienced a mouse problem please tell me your story, and what you did to solve it.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Minimalist Pack Rats
Dear collectors of stuff,
I am secretly one of you, but I try so hard not to be. At heart all I want to be is a minimalist, but as soon as I purge myself of all the things I own I get an irresistible itch to replace the emptiness I have created in my world . This time the object that creates worth in my life is art, but in the past it has been baseball cards, lincoln logs, and native american dream catchers. Part of me feels a certain level of sophistication and joy with my new objects that I collect, but still I wonder that if at some point these art objects will be pushed aside as crap, for a new found love of fleas, coffee mugs, and rare rabbit feet from indigenous tribes.
I began wondering this as I was preparing to leave home and travel back to Chicago. The whole week I spent my time weeding through objects from my childhood and early teens. Objects like vintage army men, Briar horses, cribs I had once slept in, lincoln logs, Legos, trains, K'nexs, Beanie Babies, baseball cards, books and more books, clothes, and even boxes and bags that once housed or carried the memorable keepsakes I just mentioned. Each one of these objects at some point were placed neatly in appropriate bins in order to accrue value and dust, so they could survive the countless garage sales and trash bins in which some of the cheaper and less memorable objects had succeeded to. As I went through these bins I began to ask my self a series of questions. Mostly stemming from, "Why do I still need this crap!"
My quickest answer to this question was, "its a part of me!" But then I began to wonder how much a part of me these objects are if I dont look at them until the next large weed-out. Some of the items I keep around because I still secretly enjoy them but have no time to look at them (baseball cards and toy trains). But other items I just shake my head at why I wanted them so badly, and then why I decided to keep them around for such a long time. Such as Beanie Babies.
In the mid to late 90s I and millions of other children and adults grabbed up beanie babies like it was water before a draught. Each one of us believed that we were going to save these items and make a fortune on them after about thirty years. What everyone forgot to take in was that, with so many people saving these objects, it was going to take a hell of a lot longer than 30 years to make a stuffed wiener dog rare. But none the less I believed myself to be a true collector by going to only the finest of the hallmark stores and purchasing my princess Diana bear just as it hit the shelf at 6 in the morning. I even made sure to go to the care of putting the tags in plastic sleeves. And as any true collector would have done at the end of the day of playing with the beanie babies that I had spilt Spaghetti O's and Chef Boyardee on, I threw them into a large crate containing the other highly valued stuffed objects, and put them in a closet out of site. I could now spend my energy focusing on all the money I would make from the over night interest those over sized colored cotton balls were bound to receive. As I had once intended I never got around to paying for my college tuition with my profits as a successful investor. But I did manage in this last weed-out to put the beanie babies into a charity pile, so future investors would be able to pride themselves with the challenges of maintaining a fleet of highly prized objects.
Now that Im older I dont know if I could be so quickly drawn into a fad such as Beanie Babies. But in some way, art doesnt seem so different. Art is an object in which I enjoy looking at, spending time with, and thinking about. Hopefully, it will accrue interest and I can it give away my highly prized objects to museums so that the same objects that inspired thought in me will inspire thought in millions of others. But even with a justified answer on why I collect, there still seems to be only one real justification for collecting. Collecting gives us worth, and worth is an inescapable feeling. Wether it be art, a flea collection, baseball cards, or even books, we need something to show off or sit in front of so we can pat ourselves on the back and admire all the hard work we have done.... Ok so its not hard work but acquiring is still a job, and thus its still work.
Non the less at a certain point we have acquired too much worth and the only thing to do is a little spring cleaning. Finally we can get that crap we have collected over the years out, and make room for the real treasures we have our eyes on. But as an artist and a creator of objects I sometimes lose all hope. This idea that one day someone can switch from collecting my prized object to collecting fleas, makes me never want to make anything ever again. But believing someone will stop collecting fleas, put them away in a box to collect dust, and have my art give someone a renewed sense of worth, keeps me going for several lifetimes. I AM FINALLY BETTER THAN THE FLEAS!!!
As for now I will continue to collect art and it will be the only thing I will show on my walls because I believe it inspires thought. But if at some point Im ready to stop thinking and start living you better believe Im going to be looking for the nearest indigenous rabbit foot outlet store with my check book out.
Readers please let me know what you collect and why you collect it, and if sometimes you feel a little ridiculous looking at ancient Mayan masks and wondering how in the hell your going to pay rent this month.
I am secretly one of you, but I try so hard not to be. At heart all I want to be is a minimalist, but as soon as I purge myself of all the things I own I get an irresistible itch to replace the emptiness I have created in my world . This time the object that creates worth in my life is art, but in the past it has been baseball cards, lincoln logs, and native american dream catchers. Part of me feels a certain level of sophistication and joy with my new objects that I collect, but still I wonder that if at some point these art objects will be pushed aside as crap, for a new found love of fleas, coffee mugs, and rare rabbit feet from indigenous tribes.
I began wondering this as I was preparing to leave home and travel back to Chicago. The whole week I spent my time weeding through objects from my childhood and early teens. Objects like vintage army men, Briar horses, cribs I had once slept in, lincoln logs, Legos, trains, K'nexs, Beanie Babies, baseball cards, books and more books, clothes, and even boxes and bags that once housed or carried the memorable keepsakes I just mentioned. Each one of these objects at some point were placed neatly in appropriate bins in order to accrue value and dust, so they could survive the countless garage sales and trash bins in which some of the cheaper and less memorable objects had succeeded to. As I went through these bins I began to ask my self a series of questions. Mostly stemming from, "Why do I still need this crap!"
My quickest answer to this question was, "its a part of me!" But then I began to wonder how much a part of me these objects are if I dont look at them until the next large weed-out. Some of the items I keep around because I still secretly enjoy them but have no time to look at them (baseball cards and toy trains). But other items I just shake my head at why I wanted them so badly, and then why I decided to keep them around for such a long time. Such as Beanie Babies.
In the mid to late 90s I and millions of other children and adults grabbed up beanie babies like it was water before a draught. Each one of us believed that we were going to save these items and make a fortune on them after about thirty years. What everyone forgot to take in was that, with so many people saving these objects, it was going to take a hell of a lot longer than 30 years to make a stuffed wiener dog rare. But none the less I believed myself to be a true collector by going to only the finest of the hallmark stores and purchasing my princess Diana bear just as it hit the shelf at 6 in the morning. I even made sure to go to the care of putting the tags in plastic sleeves. And as any true collector would have done at the end of the day of playing with the beanie babies that I had spilt Spaghetti O's and Chef Boyardee on, I threw them into a large crate containing the other highly valued stuffed objects, and put them in a closet out of site. I could now spend my energy focusing on all the money I would make from the over night interest those over sized colored cotton balls were bound to receive. As I had once intended I never got around to paying for my college tuition with my profits as a successful investor. But I did manage in this last weed-out to put the beanie babies into a charity pile, so future investors would be able to pride themselves with the challenges of maintaining a fleet of highly prized objects.
Now that Im older I dont know if I could be so quickly drawn into a fad such as Beanie Babies. But in some way, art doesnt seem so different. Art is an object in which I enjoy looking at, spending time with, and thinking about. Hopefully, it will accrue interest and I can it give away my highly prized objects to museums so that the same objects that inspired thought in me will inspire thought in millions of others. But even with a justified answer on why I collect, there still seems to be only one real justification for collecting. Collecting gives us worth, and worth is an inescapable feeling. Wether it be art, a flea collection, baseball cards, or even books, we need something to show off or sit in front of so we can pat ourselves on the back and admire all the hard work we have done.... Ok so its not hard work but acquiring is still a job, and thus its still work.
Non the less at a certain point we have acquired too much worth and the only thing to do is a little spring cleaning. Finally we can get that crap we have collected over the years out, and make room for the real treasures we have our eyes on. But as an artist and a creator of objects I sometimes lose all hope. This idea that one day someone can switch from collecting my prized object to collecting fleas, makes me never want to make anything ever again. But believing someone will stop collecting fleas, put them away in a box to collect dust, and have my art give someone a renewed sense of worth, keeps me going for several lifetimes. I AM FINALLY BETTER THAN THE FLEAS!!!
As for now I will continue to collect art and it will be the only thing I will show on my walls because I believe it inspires thought. But if at some point Im ready to stop thinking and start living you better believe Im going to be looking for the nearest indigenous rabbit foot outlet store with my check book out.
Readers please let me know what you collect and why you collect it, and if sometimes you feel a little ridiculous looking at ancient Mayan masks and wondering how in the hell your going to pay rent this month.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Libraries
Dear fans of coffee shops,
Go there, and chat it up all you want, bring your kids to terrorize every inch of the building, and play the games on your computer with the sound all the way up, but please, please, don't come to my library.
Ok well, you can come, but be a little quieter. See folks Im just plain frustrated with going to libraries and not having the experience I could have. Libraries at one time were one of the places that I could go and read in absolute silence, and I didn't have to worry about buying anything in order to use the space or get information. I could go and write papers and do research or read books and get away from all the distractions of television, facebook and petty things such as who's dating who, or who got married most recently. It served as a relief from the coffee shops in which you go and pretend like your reading but in reality your watching and listening to everyone else's life. It was a place in which culture wasn't played out but rather taken in, and this was a wonderful thing. But as my life has become more about getting away from the distractions I get further and further upset with libraries, and more in tune with their realities.
Lately my experience with libraries has been less than perfect to say the least. And anymore I look at going into libraries and view my time there as a cultural experience. (A cultural experience is my way of saying Im dissatisfied with the people but hope to look at them in a positive way). But libraries should have standards and they aren't being kept and I would like to take this time to remind people of proper library etiquette based on bad experiences I have had.
1. The library is not a coffee house, and not a cafe, if you want to have a conversation please step outside.(This goes for cell phone users as well)
2. I am not an jerk for telling you to shut up or take your phone call outside.
3. If you are a librarian please take your personal phone calls in the back. I dont want to hear about how your third child's father wont pay child support.
4. Pick up you feet when you walk. This goes for everywhere, really.
5. The computers are not for playing games, or checking facebook, especially with the volume on.
6. Computers are not the only thing a library holds, you might be interested in the things that sit on the shelves as well.
7. Children under the age of 15 belong in the children's section, book shelfs are not jungle gyms.
8. I am not an asshole for pointing your child towards the children section. Your just a bad parent, and you shouldn't swear in front of them.
9. The library is not a dating service, stop hitting on the librarians, and holding up the checkout line... but mostly the latter (Iv been known to hit a librarian or two).
10. And for the librarians, its your job to help. My taxes pay for it. Don't act like you have something better to do when you leave. And flatter me a little bit when I flirt with you.
Also I have thought about some things libraries can do to hand back the culture that my tax dollars pay for.
Such as invest in music and movies that blockbuster or best buy dont carry. Movies from the criterion collection would be much better than big mamas house, or the family matters season 4 box set.
And wipe the dust off the two computers designated for searching for books, to at least make the appearance people still read.
Maybe we can designate the library computers be used for only 15 minutes unless for research, Its frustrating when you have to wait in line to look up a book while you watch a 49 year old homeless man play tetris.
I love the library, and I want to continue to love libraries which can be used as a haven of peace, that inspire knowledge and learning. But as of right now I might as well have my haven of peace be the grocery store outdoor furniture department. (Its nice there and no one will bother you or make you buy a coffee.)
So readers please let me know of your library problems or your worst library stories. (I like responses a lot but Im not hearing anything, give me a reason to keep writing these.)
And Kafka on the Shore is a book by Haruki Murakami it has some good things to say about libraries and how ones spiritual makeup is put together. Check it out at your local library.
Go there, and chat it up all you want, bring your kids to terrorize every inch of the building, and play the games on your computer with the sound all the way up, but please, please, don't come to my library.
Ok well, you can come, but be a little quieter. See folks Im just plain frustrated with going to libraries and not having the experience I could have. Libraries at one time were one of the places that I could go and read in absolute silence, and I didn't have to worry about buying anything in order to use the space or get information. I could go and write papers and do research or read books and get away from all the distractions of television, facebook and petty things such as who's dating who, or who got married most recently. It served as a relief from the coffee shops in which you go and pretend like your reading but in reality your watching and listening to everyone else's life. It was a place in which culture wasn't played out but rather taken in, and this was a wonderful thing. But as my life has become more about getting away from the distractions I get further and further upset with libraries, and more in tune with their realities.
Lately my experience with libraries has been less than perfect to say the least. And anymore I look at going into libraries and view my time there as a cultural experience. (A cultural experience is my way of saying Im dissatisfied with the people but hope to look at them in a positive way). But libraries should have standards and they aren't being kept and I would like to take this time to remind people of proper library etiquette based on bad experiences I have had.
1. The library is not a coffee house, and not a cafe, if you want to have a conversation please step outside.(This goes for cell phone users as well)
2. I am not an jerk for telling you to shut up or take your phone call outside.
3. If you are a librarian please take your personal phone calls in the back. I dont want to hear about how your third child's father wont pay child support.
4. Pick up you feet when you walk. This goes for everywhere, really.
5. The computers are not for playing games, or checking facebook, especially with the volume on.
6. Computers are not the only thing a library holds, you might be interested in the things that sit on the shelves as well.
7. Children under the age of 15 belong in the children's section, book shelfs are not jungle gyms.
8. I am not an asshole for pointing your child towards the children section. Your just a bad parent, and you shouldn't swear in front of them.
9. The library is not a dating service, stop hitting on the librarians, and holding up the checkout line... but mostly the latter (Iv been known to hit a librarian or two).
10. And for the librarians, its your job to help. My taxes pay for it. Don't act like you have something better to do when you leave. And flatter me a little bit when I flirt with you.
Also I have thought about some things libraries can do to hand back the culture that my tax dollars pay for.
Such as invest in music and movies that blockbuster or best buy dont carry. Movies from the criterion collection would be much better than big mamas house, or the family matters season 4 box set.
And wipe the dust off the two computers designated for searching for books, to at least make the appearance people still read.
Maybe we can designate the library computers be used for only 15 minutes unless for research, Its frustrating when you have to wait in line to look up a book while you watch a 49 year old homeless man play tetris.
I love the library, and I want to continue to love libraries which can be used as a haven of peace, that inspire knowledge and learning. But as of right now I might as well have my haven of peace be the grocery store outdoor furniture department. (Its nice there and no one will bother you or make you buy a coffee.)
So readers please let me know of your library problems or your worst library stories. (I like responses a lot but Im not hearing anything, give me a reason to keep writing these.)
And Kafka on the Shore is a book by Haruki Murakami it has some good things to say about libraries and how ones spiritual makeup is put together. Check it out at your local library.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Water Park Vacation????
Dear Ingebritson Family,
This Blog is addressed to them and the reasons I don't want to go to a water park. Well ok they already know, But you don't so let me take this time to describe our family dynamic. But first water parks.
Water parks are the sort of place that three types of groups go, families with young children, rednecks, and groups of dude bras that are under 35. I especially hate water parks because I have to deal with all three of these groups of people, pay exorbitant amounts of money to get in, wait in lines while I either shiver because the air is too cold, or sunburn because the air is too hot , and see people in bathing suits that were never meant for bathing suits. And if I want a meal the only kind of food that is offered is greasy hamburgers, nachos with cheese made from plastic, and elephant ears, none of which sounds appealing when on a diet. Did I mention small children. I hate small children and their antsy ways always climbing on everything and touching me with their sticky fingers, asking me if they can cut me in line because they decided to go get cotton candy. But since these children are probably also redneck children their parents are probably yelling at them from across the water park to, "Hurry the hell up, grab my cigarettes, cause were leavin" Now once again I could look at water parks like a cultural experience and go and sit with my sunglasses, read a book and work on my tan. But instead I will sulk because im not on the beach watching the pretty girls go by because pretty girls never go to water parks at least not alone, and never go to pick up guys. But no this isnt the biggest problem, the biggest problem is I can t swim at water parks. Believe it or not, water parks dont have swimming pools. How this is true, I have no idea, but you would think that if you were going to go to a water park you could at least do a few laps, or show off your diving skills. Nope!!!! They have a wave pool but here you can only sit trapped inside a inter-tube and bounce in water that has been pissed in by a million little kids with sticky cotton candy hands and get run into by 29 year old assholes that think it would be a great idea to relive their high-school football days and take out everyone else in the process.
Ok ok I know I sound a little cranky and that once I got there I would have a great time. But it brings up the other issue of my family dynamic. We will start with my brother.
Its important to explain first off that my brother and I are very different. On paper we are very similar, we are both avid readers, both big fans of good food and beer, both baseball fans, same parents, and agree on multiple political issues. But personality wise we are two completely different people. My brother is the kind of guy that believes if you dont have anything to say you just shouldnt say anything. Where Im under the belief that a void can always be filled in any conversation no matter how small the gap. My brother is also the kind of guy that likes to lay low, and really enjoy his time off. I.E. sit down and not move for extended periods of a time. Where I have places to go and people to see even when Im sleeping. Now we are usually pretty good when we see each other for short periods of time and we can both be involved in an activity, that is low stress and we both enjoy quite a bit. But putting us in long lines where there is extended voids in the conversation and a beating sun spells disaster. (I remember the family vacation to New York where he wanted to sit in the hotel room and watch the second baseball game of the day, and I wanted to get out and explore one of the greatest cities in the world. We parted ways) I cant say this for fact but I believe my brother is more of a lazy river rider or a wave pool kind of guy, where Im a fastest slide I can find guy. And I don't want to have this sort of separation divide us. I believe we should come together over our similarities, such as a cold beer and baseball game, and enjoy ourselves.
Now my father. God bless my father, He is more similar to me in the way where he can shoot the shit about pretty much anything and doesn't mind the long lines. But personality is not where my father and I differ. He has recently been battling diabetes and has started to change his diet and his way of life. I applaud him for this. But I know that for a long time his staple food was hot dogs, pizza, hamburgers, and chips. (all of which I ate today, lol) And its hard to break habit, and I can guarantee that going to a water park wold not be the best place to try to break a habit. It seems to me that one would be hard pressed to find anything at a water-park that hasn't been deep fried, battered or slathered with some goodness that would make the health gods cringe. And so I think as a family we should be supportive and maybe go to the beach and pack a lunch of fruits and salads and sandwiches filled with avocado and tomato.
And so I am left with my mother the ring leader of the family. She tries so hard to get us as a family to do things together and we sometimes succeed. But I have to say there is some things some families do together and some things other families don't. Our family isnt so much a water park family anymore. I know that at one time when I was 10 or 11 we as a family went to water parks, but I feel that we have changed. We do much better seated around a table arguing or discussing an issue that we feel pertinent, or watching a baseball game together. Even going to the beach would be nice. But a water park is a natural divider. My mom has already said she wants to spend her time in the lazy river ride, where I just feel lazy on a river in which im stuck in an inter-tube all day.
So I have thought of a solution. We can rent one long canoe, Pack a cooler full of beer, healthy food, and a radio. My brother can sit and listen to the baseball game or read a book, my mother can be tied behind us in an intertube and my father and I can roe roe roe our boat gently down the stream, merrily merrily merrily, life is like a dream.
So readers please let me know what your family cant do together and for what reasons, or if you have any thoughts on what my family could do together. (and readers the responses have been kind of silent lately.)
This Blog is addressed to them and the reasons I don't want to go to a water park. Well ok they already know, But you don't so let me take this time to describe our family dynamic. But first water parks.
Water parks are the sort of place that three types of groups go, families with young children, rednecks, and groups of dude bras that are under 35. I especially hate water parks because I have to deal with all three of these groups of people, pay exorbitant amounts of money to get in, wait in lines while I either shiver because the air is too cold, or sunburn because the air is too hot , and see people in bathing suits that were never meant for bathing suits. And if I want a meal the only kind of food that is offered is greasy hamburgers, nachos with cheese made from plastic, and elephant ears, none of which sounds appealing when on a diet. Did I mention small children. I hate small children and their antsy ways always climbing on everything and touching me with their sticky fingers, asking me if they can cut me in line because they decided to go get cotton candy. But since these children are probably also redneck children their parents are probably yelling at them from across the water park to, "Hurry the hell up, grab my cigarettes, cause were leavin" Now once again I could look at water parks like a cultural experience and go and sit with my sunglasses, read a book and work on my tan. But instead I will sulk because im not on the beach watching the pretty girls go by because pretty girls never go to water parks at least not alone, and never go to pick up guys. But no this isnt the biggest problem, the biggest problem is I can t swim at water parks. Believe it or not, water parks dont have swimming pools. How this is true, I have no idea, but you would think that if you were going to go to a water park you could at least do a few laps, or show off your diving skills. Nope!!!! They have a wave pool but here you can only sit trapped inside a inter-tube and bounce in water that has been pissed in by a million little kids with sticky cotton candy hands and get run into by 29 year old assholes that think it would be a great idea to relive their high-school football days and take out everyone else in the process.
Ok ok I know I sound a little cranky and that once I got there I would have a great time. But it brings up the other issue of my family dynamic. We will start with my brother.
Its important to explain first off that my brother and I are very different. On paper we are very similar, we are both avid readers, both big fans of good food and beer, both baseball fans, same parents, and agree on multiple political issues. But personality wise we are two completely different people. My brother is the kind of guy that believes if you dont have anything to say you just shouldnt say anything. Where Im under the belief that a void can always be filled in any conversation no matter how small the gap. My brother is also the kind of guy that likes to lay low, and really enjoy his time off. I.E. sit down and not move for extended periods of a time. Where I have places to go and people to see even when Im sleeping. Now we are usually pretty good when we see each other for short periods of time and we can both be involved in an activity, that is low stress and we both enjoy quite a bit. But putting us in long lines where there is extended voids in the conversation and a beating sun spells disaster. (I remember the family vacation to New York where he wanted to sit in the hotel room and watch the second baseball game of the day, and I wanted to get out and explore one of the greatest cities in the world. We parted ways) I cant say this for fact but I believe my brother is more of a lazy river rider or a wave pool kind of guy, where Im a fastest slide I can find guy. And I don't want to have this sort of separation divide us. I believe we should come together over our similarities, such as a cold beer and baseball game, and enjoy ourselves.
Now my father. God bless my father, He is more similar to me in the way where he can shoot the shit about pretty much anything and doesn't mind the long lines. But personality is not where my father and I differ. He has recently been battling diabetes and has started to change his diet and his way of life. I applaud him for this. But I know that for a long time his staple food was hot dogs, pizza, hamburgers, and chips. (all of which I ate today, lol) And its hard to break habit, and I can guarantee that going to a water park wold not be the best place to try to break a habit. It seems to me that one would be hard pressed to find anything at a water-park that hasn't been deep fried, battered or slathered with some goodness that would make the health gods cringe. And so I think as a family we should be supportive and maybe go to the beach and pack a lunch of fruits and salads and sandwiches filled with avocado and tomato.
And so I am left with my mother the ring leader of the family. She tries so hard to get us as a family to do things together and we sometimes succeed. But I have to say there is some things some families do together and some things other families don't. Our family isnt so much a water park family anymore. I know that at one time when I was 10 or 11 we as a family went to water parks, but I feel that we have changed. We do much better seated around a table arguing or discussing an issue that we feel pertinent, or watching a baseball game together. Even going to the beach would be nice. But a water park is a natural divider. My mom has already said she wants to spend her time in the lazy river ride, where I just feel lazy on a river in which im stuck in an inter-tube all day.
So I have thought of a solution. We can rent one long canoe, Pack a cooler full of beer, healthy food, and a radio. My brother can sit and listen to the baseball game or read a book, my mother can be tied behind us in an intertube and my father and I can roe roe roe our boat gently down the stream, merrily merrily merrily, life is like a dream.
So readers please let me know what your family cant do together and for what reasons, or if you have any thoughts on what my family could do together. (and readers the responses have been kind of silent lately.)
Public Transportation
Dear fans of luxury,
How I wish I could be you. How I wish, that when I sit down to go to chicago, I would have ample leg room, air conditioning that consistently works, and conversations that are somewhat my own. But NO NO NO, I ride the south shoreline. Now, I have rode public transportation most of my life and generally enjoyed it. There is a genuine thrill of riding the train the first couple times. Its a real melting pot of people, some of which are quiet and nice and take up as little space as possible, but mostly its full of people that are loud and rude and think that when they buy a ticket it generally means they own the entire train for the duration of their ride. And like I said the first couple of times you ride the train, one looks at these sort of people as a kind of culture that you can take in. But this quickly dies after about 3 rides, when you start to become inconvenienced.
My last time heading into chicago was one of the worst. I got on at one of the beginning stops, and so I had the whole train in order to choose a seat. This is an important decision for me because I have learned after several times riding that its important to choose a seat in which you think you will be bothered the least. When I got on I went to a seat that was a two seater facing the direction of travel towards the front of the train. It was nice because I had a window seat and directly kitty corner from me I have a cute girl facing away from the direction of travel. (So we could eye each other, and possibly I could start a conversation if things went well.) She moved immediately after I sat down, and I realize she just never gave me a chance. (im sort of like your favorite pair of socks, Im nothing special at first but the longer you have me around the more your madly in love) (call me weird but I have favorite pair of socks). Anyway... the girl moving didn't bother me, she was sort of like an added bonus, Im convinced it wasnt me anyway. So I rode in medium comfort for the next two stops, its still a little uncomfortable only having a few inches of leg room, but I can survive. A few stops later two families of 4 that know each other got on the train. They decided to sit in front of me in a four seater and across the way to me in a four seater.
At this point I feel as though I must describe the south shore line train. The seats give about 8 inches of leg room and the back of the seats can swing either direction to accommodate a family of four. This means that any one pair of seats on each side of the train can be made a four seater for a family. It still means that the amount of leg room is about 8 inches but this doesnt seem like it would be a problem for a family with kids whose feet never touch the floor.
But that wasn't the case with the two families that decided to sit near me. Their kids were about four to seven years old and walked onto the train like they were being attacked by a million invisible ants. But its fine, its public transportation, and they were not sitting in the seat next to me. At first each set of two kids, sat next to two parents. This seemed like the most sensible arrangement, and what the south shore line is intended for. But about a mile down the road the parents decided, it would be more fun for their kids if they all sat next to each other. The kids shuffle out of theyre seats and into a newly made four seater across the way from me. The set of parents that were across from me were now in a two seater, and the set of parents that were in front of me decide that I would like a four seater. Wrong!
This created a large problem for me because it was still early on in the ride and we had about an hour an a half to go. I understand that knowing my luck things were only going to get worse, and so I shoot my death stare across the way to the man who just inconvenienced my life.(I have mastered the art of passive aggressiveness.) At the next stop the train decides to get full and a guy my age sat in the seat next to me, while all of the other adults on the train were fighting not to sit in the four seater with 8 inches of leg room. Turns out that a middle aged couple that seemed to be on a blind date lost that battle and were forced to clammer over us so they can happily sit facing us. We were now sitting in such a way that each persons legs were intertwined with the person across from them. Due to this I was quickly becoming intimate with a 45 year old woman that looks like she runs the Chicago Public Library, (meaning her glasses were so far down her nose, she was always looking up to speak). At this point I have decided that my eyes if used correctly can become death rays, and so I was still staring at the guy who did this to me hoping to burn a whole in his head. His response was to lower his sunglasses and to start speaking French with his wife and children, who i was convinced were speaking solely about me. So not only was I uncomfortable I was now paranoid that other people are speaking about me. I try to pick up my book but cant read more than five sentences because of how angry I was, and when i get angry i get hot. And.... while all of this happening the guy on the blind date was trying everything he could to impress the girl I was so unwantingly intimate with, and tell her every pointless fact he knew about chicago, and the 1912 steal workers mafia. As he does this, I believe he was also trying to impress me and the rest of the train because he was almost shouting. But no one was impressed because the only one on the whole train that was laughing at his jokes was himself.
So... lets recap my symptoms. I am a uncomfortable, paranoid, angry, and hot, with the only thing to do was to listen to a cheesy forty-five year old make bad jokes and tell bad stories to a woman who everyone else on the train believes I was dating. So... I am also getting funny disapproving looks from strangers because I appear so intimate with a woman that is old enough to be my mother. Can things get worse. Yes they can. While all of this was happening I am listening to the four children who I can not see due to my lack of mobility, scream and clammer about like the circus has just arrived in town.
But after what seems like 4 hours of this complete and utter agony the train started to pull into the station. And you know that feeling when you have almost arrived somewhere by train or by plane but cant get out of your seat yet because its still moving. Its a feeling that screams through out your whole body, move now! Well I felt that.
But I finally got off and surprisingly enough my day wasn't ruined, it just started off badly. And readers I might sound bitter but you would be too if one little train ride makes you start to contemplate suicide. Please let me know about any horrible travel experiences you had, and the person that made it that way. Because lets me honest, when a good time is spoiled its never our own fault.
How I wish I could be you. How I wish, that when I sit down to go to chicago, I would have ample leg room, air conditioning that consistently works, and conversations that are somewhat my own. But NO NO NO, I ride the south shoreline. Now, I have rode public transportation most of my life and generally enjoyed it. There is a genuine thrill of riding the train the first couple times. Its a real melting pot of people, some of which are quiet and nice and take up as little space as possible, but mostly its full of people that are loud and rude and think that when they buy a ticket it generally means they own the entire train for the duration of their ride. And like I said the first couple of times you ride the train, one looks at these sort of people as a kind of culture that you can take in. But this quickly dies after about 3 rides, when you start to become inconvenienced.
My last time heading into chicago was one of the worst. I got on at one of the beginning stops, and so I had the whole train in order to choose a seat. This is an important decision for me because I have learned after several times riding that its important to choose a seat in which you think you will be bothered the least. When I got on I went to a seat that was a two seater facing the direction of travel towards the front of the train. It was nice because I had a window seat and directly kitty corner from me I have a cute girl facing away from the direction of travel. (So we could eye each other, and possibly I could start a conversation if things went well.) She moved immediately after I sat down, and I realize she just never gave me a chance. (im sort of like your favorite pair of socks, Im nothing special at first but the longer you have me around the more your madly in love) (call me weird but I have favorite pair of socks). Anyway... the girl moving didn't bother me, she was sort of like an added bonus, Im convinced it wasnt me anyway. So I rode in medium comfort for the next two stops, its still a little uncomfortable only having a few inches of leg room, but I can survive. A few stops later two families of 4 that know each other got on the train. They decided to sit in front of me in a four seater and across the way to me in a four seater.
At this point I feel as though I must describe the south shore line train. The seats give about 8 inches of leg room and the back of the seats can swing either direction to accommodate a family of four. This means that any one pair of seats on each side of the train can be made a four seater for a family. It still means that the amount of leg room is about 8 inches but this doesnt seem like it would be a problem for a family with kids whose feet never touch the floor.
But that wasn't the case with the two families that decided to sit near me. Their kids were about four to seven years old and walked onto the train like they were being attacked by a million invisible ants. But its fine, its public transportation, and they were not sitting in the seat next to me. At first each set of two kids, sat next to two parents. This seemed like the most sensible arrangement, and what the south shore line is intended for. But about a mile down the road the parents decided, it would be more fun for their kids if they all sat next to each other. The kids shuffle out of theyre seats and into a newly made four seater across the way from me. The set of parents that were across from me were now in a two seater, and the set of parents that were in front of me decide that I would like a four seater. Wrong!
This created a large problem for me because it was still early on in the ride and we had about an hour an a half to go. I understand that knowing my luck things were only going to get worse, and so I shoot my death stare across the way to the man who just inconvenienced my life.(I have mastered the art of passive aggressiveness.) At the next stop the train decides to get full and a guy my age sat in the seat next to me, while all of the other adults on the train were fighting not to sit in the four seater with 8 inches of leg room. Turns out that a middle aged couple that seemed to be on a blind date lost that battle and were forced to clammer over us so they can happily sit facing us. We were now sitting in such a way that each persons legs were intertwined with the person across from them. Due to this I was quickly becoming intimate with a 45 year old woman that looks like she runs the Chicago Public Library, (meaning her glasses were so far down her nose, she was always looking up to speak). At this point I have decided that my eyes if used correctly can become death rays, and so I was still staring at the guy who did this to me hoping to burn a whole in his head. His response was to lower his sunglasses and to start speaking French with his wife and children, who i was convinced were speaking solely about me. So not only was I uncomfortable I was now paranoid that other people are speaking about me. I try to pick up my book but cant read more than five sentences because of how angry I was, and when i get angry i get hot. And.... while all of this happening the guy on the blind date was trying everything he could to impress the girl I was so unwantingly intimate with, and tell her every pointless fact he knew about chicago, and the 1912 steal workers mafia. As he does this, I believe he was also trying to impress me and the rest of the train because he was almost shouting. But no one was impressed because the only one on the whole train that was laughing at his jokes was himself.
So... lets recap my symptoms. I am a uncomfortable, paranoid, angry, and hot, with the only thing to do was to listen to a cheesy forty-five year old make bad jokes and tell bad stories to a woman who everyone else on the train believes I was dating. So... I am also getting funny disapproving looks from strangers because I appear so intimate with a woman that is old enough to be my mother. Can things get worse. Yes they can. While all of this was happening I am listening to the four children who I can not see due to my lack of mobility, scream and clammer about like the circus has just arrived in town.
But after what seems like 4 hours of this complete and utter agony the train started to pull into the station. And you know that feeling when you have almost arrived somewhere by train or by plane but cant get out of your seat yet because its still moving. Its a feeling that screams through out your whole body, move now! Well I felt that.
But I finally got off and surprisingly enough my day wasn't ruined, it just started off badly. And readers I might sound bitter but you would be too if one little train ride makes you start to contemplate suicide. Please let me know about any horrible travel experiences you had, and the person that made it that way. Because lets me honest, when a good time is spoiled its never our own fault.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Birthday's
Dear fans of cake,
Please join me in my crusade to convert all the people of the world into cake fans. And ladies and gentleman I'm not talking about the 90s rock band, this is about the moist and fluffy, succulent and smooth goodness that one puts into their mouths on special occasions, being holidays, birthdays, wednesdays, saturdays, friends birthdays, baby showers, weddings, funerals, day before diet days, celebration of losing weight no matter how small the amount days, anniversaries, graduations, day after any celebration because there is leftovers, two days after any celebration because you bought and or made to much days, and sympathy days( i.e. breakups, loss of an animals, sad movies, stormy weather, cloudy skies, chance of cloudy skies, weight gain, and just plain sadness). You know the cake Im talking about. The one that you splurge on because well... your feeling rather you today. I know for myself I always feel rather me, and thus Im always in the mood for cake. And I don't have to worry because you never hear anybody blame there weight gain solely on cake. Its always hamburgers, or pizza, or candy, but not cake. Actually cake says the exact same thing a successful diet says. "You've made it, with your good attitude, hard work, and strong positive thinking you can go places." And I like this because it means I don't have to diet anymore. I can just eat cake.
This weekend is one of the best weekends for cake, Im celebrating a birthday and enjoying a family reunion all in one. Twice the cake!!!!
For me birthday's are sort of bitter sweet. On one hand you receive all that cake and presents, and its a day utterly devoted to you. Which is great because you begin to get a sense of what a king or queen might feel like on a daily bases. On the other hand birthdays say something quite terrible, your one step closer to responsibilities and death. All birthdays say after today the parties over big guy. But it's strange because for birthdays its not someone else telling you that the parties over. Its an inner feeling in which you reflect on how much you didnt accomplish within the last year, and how if you dont change now then its going to be another year of self destruction. Birthdays become the metaphorical stepping stones of life and we always judge our selves harshly based on this. Such as Im 20 and im still a virgin, Im 27 and Im not married yet, or im 35 and have no job and live with my parent. The worst being Im over 40, still a virgin, not married, have no job and live with my parents, who still make my bed. For me, early on I was rather hard on my self and was upset when I turned 14 and was still a virgin. But after a while I stopped using these stepping stones, and realized my life was going nowhere. This way I can continue to eat cake blindly, and if something good happens than it will be a pleasant surprise no matter how late it comes. Here I come virginity loss at age 86!!
And readers just because I don't want to leave you with the thought of 86 year old sex, Ill leave you with my top 5 cakes.
white bakery cake from mackenzies bakery.
my mothers texas sheet cake.
confetti cup cakes with confetti or funfetti frosting, preferably the more unatural tasting the better.
angel food cake with fresh strawberries on top.
and spice cake with 7 minute frosting
(I also enjoy grandma Beeke's cake, but have only ever tried it once) Hint! Hint!
Please let me know more reasons to eat that moist and fluffy, succulent and smooth goodness that one puts into their mouths, and your top cake choices. Let us eat cake!
Please join me in my crusade to convert all the people of the world into cake fans. And ladies and gentleman I'm not talking about the 90s rock band, this is about the moist and fluffy, succulent and smooth goodness that one puts into their mouths on special occasions, being holidays, birthdays, wednesdays, saturdays, friends birthdays, baby showers, weddings, funerals, day before diet days, celebration of losing weight no matter how small the amount days, anniversaries, graduations, day after any celebration because there is leftovers, two days after any celebration because you bought and or made to much days, and sympathy days( i.e. breakups, loss of an animals, sad movies, stormy weather, cloudy skies, chance of cloudy skies, weight gain, and just plain sadness). You know the cake Im talking about. The one that you splurge on because well... your feeling rather you today. I know for myself I always feel rather me, and thus Im always in the mood for cake. And I don't have to worry because you never hear anybody blame there weight gain solely on cake. Its always hamburgers, or pizza, or candy, but not cake. Actually cake says the exact same thing a successful diet says. "You've made it, with your good attitude, hard work, and strong positive thinking you can go places." And I like this because it means I don't have to diet anymore. I can just eat cake.
This weekend is one of the best weekends for cake, Im celebrating a birthday and enjoying a family reunion all in one. Twice the cake!!!!
For me birthday's are sort of bitter sweet. On one hand you receive all that cake and presents, and its a day utterly devoted to you. Which is great because you begin to get a sense of what a king or queen might feel like on a daily bases. On the other hand birthdays say something quite terrible, your one step closer to responsibilities and death. All birthdays say after today the parties over big guy. But it's strange because for birthdays its not someone else telling you that the parties over. Its an inner feeling in which you reflect on how much you didnt accomplish within the last year, and how if you dont change now then its going to be another year of self destruction. Birthdays become the metaphorical stepping stones of life and we always judge our selves harshly based on this. Such as Im 20 and im still a virgin, Im 27 and Im not married yet, or im 35 and have no job and live with my parent. The worst being Im over 40, still a virgin, not married, have no job and live with my parents, who still make my bed. For me, early on I was rather hard on my self and was upset when I turned 14 and was still a virgin. But after a while I stopped using these stepping stones, and realized my life was going nowhere. This way I can continue to eat cake blindly, and if something good happens than it will be a pleasant surprise no matter how late it comes. Here I come virginity loss at age 86!!
And readers just because I don't want to leave you with the thought of 86 year old sex, Ill leave you with my top 5 cakes.
white bakery cake from mackenzies bakery.
my mothers texas sheet cake.
confetti cup cakes with confetti or funfetti frosting, preferably the more unatural tasting the better.
angel food cake with fresh strawberries on top.
and spice cake with 7 minute frosting
(I also enjoy grandma Beeke's cake, but have only ever tried it once) Hint! Hint!
Please let me know more reasons to eat that moist and fluffy, succulent and smooth goodness that one puts into their mouths, and your top cake choices. Let us eat cake!
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