So, Sarah, her family, and I were discussing ridiculous kids' names (Sarah works in a pediatrician's office, and I make birthday cakes all day, it comes up), and I think she has found a real winner: La-ia.
Now, wait for it. WAIT FOR IT... The dash? Is not silent.

The name is pronounced "Ladashia". WHAT THE WHAT WHAT?

And I thought Te'Lr was bad. I don't know about you, but this has opened up my eyes. I'ma name my firstborn daughter Questionmarkette (?ette) and, should I have a son, he will be Interrobang‽ (that's pronounced Interrobang Interrobang, bb)... And, in the words of Sarah, "I'm gonna stick some numbers in there, too."

The Great Ice Storm of 2000! When our power was out for two weeks, we set our food outside to keep it from spoiling, and ate pretty much nothing but fried food because my dad could cook it without electricity in the gas fryer. We heated water on top of the wood heater to wash up with, and dad heated up meals for the dogs on the same. We kept ourselves entertained with card games--in front of the glass door during daylight hours and around a Coleman lamp after dark. I was frustrated with not being able to read as long as I'd have liked in the evenings; I think I was afraid of setting my room on fire with candles. I also remember sitting around our eerily silent house and listening to the crack!-shhhhhh of ice-weighted branches snapping off the trees, but that doesn't really have to do with electricity... Although Dad did have to go out and beat ice off of trees to stop them from leaning/falling over and ripping down our wires as they went. Oh, ice.

Dear Customers,

No, I will not describe all 130+ cake designs in our book to you over the phone. No, I will not describe all 130+ cake designs in our book to you over the phone if you call back later. No, I will not call you back later to describe all 130+ cake designs in our book to you over the phone. I will never describe all 130+ cake designs in our book to you over the phone. STOP CALLING.

Shooting Killer Bees at You With My Mind,
Tori

Yesterday, I narrowly avoided a rogue tire* smashing into my car at 65 mph (appropriately enough, I was on my way to get my anxiety meds refilled). It came off a tractor trailer a few cars ahead of me, flew into the air like a great, whirling, black ring of death, bounced all the way across to the oncoming lanes of the interstate, then bounced BACK ACROSS and flew in an arc a few feet ahead of/above my windshield. It was sort of spectacular. It was also fucking amazing that it missed all the cars, and everyone managed to NOT CRASH. God.

Today I tried a dill pickle-flavored shaved ice. It was radioactive green and tasted like a mixture of rice vinegar and old scented markers. WOULD NOT RECOMMEND. Silly me, I thought they used actual pickle juice. Blech.

...One of these things seems decidedly more thrilling than the other.

A young Monarch and a young Vince Noir. The resemblance: uncanny

Anywaaaaay, I made an octopus.

I think it needs eyes.

I love Bandit more and more every day. Even when he is doing things I should really reprimand him for, like sneaking into the house every time someone opens a door, chewing up my packages, and going into Small Guard Dog* mode and growling at the AC repairman. His big brother Domino is jealous of all of the attention Bandit gets and will come running and bodily shove Bandit out of the way when someone is petting him. Oh, Domino.

Ducky is still behaviorally odd and physically odder, but she has started paying attention to people (because she thinks we have food) and actually coming when she's called (because she thinks we have food). Still, she is adorable and is the most fun to watch play with a stationary toy (Bandit wins the moving toy competition with his tendency to play fetch all by himself and jump around like a silly, jumping thing). OH MY GOD DOGS ARE AWESOME.

Also, ALL THE PUPPIES SHED LIKE THEY EACH HAVE THE COATS OF FIVE LARGE DOGS MAGICALLY CONCEALED ON THEIR RELATIVELY SMALL BODIES.

I <3 them.



* If a neighborhood dog or cat gets too close to the yard, he will start to growl, bolt off of his usual spot on the porch, stand at the very edge of the yard, and bark his head off. It's so cute, if only because he (is a small dog who) essentially patrols the edges of the yard; he doesn't go into the street. SUCH A SMART DOGGIE OH BUT PLEASE STOP THAT.

What the hell, co-workers? What's with all the yelling at the man on TV making salsa? Let the TV man make his salsa. And it's his salsa, you guys, he can put that much lime/pepper/salt in it if he likes. Why do you sound so ANGRY, yelling lady? What did salsa man ever do to you? I don't think calling the TV man "stupid" is going to help anything, and no, he didn't cut himself on that can. Salsa man knows what he's doing. Chill out, people, jeez.

My co-workers are fucking insane... And extremely irritating when you're trying to read in the break room. They all sounded so hateful.

The lady who runs the local antique shop/flea market looks just like Michelle Duggar, and it freaks me out.

The hair. The haaaaaair.

The uncomfortable associations. The uncomfortable assiociationnnnnns.

I really, really love this Super Baby Jesus comic. It is so adorable and absurd.

Ah, damnit, I can't get the link to work. I like the one with the rhino, guys. The RHINO.

Phrases I could go my entire life without ever hearing again:

"Melpya?"

"Heyhowarya?"

"BAYP BAYP" (that's "beep-beep" pronounced in a purposely exaggerated, obnoxious Southern accent, roughly translating to "GET OUT OF MY WAY")

"If everybody don't stay in their little space, then nobody don't fit never." (????)


Pertaining to the above sentence, I think the particular co-worker who said that must have a PATHOLOGICAL INABILITY TO STOP TALKING. She NEVER SHUTS UP. EVER. I guess today she had built up so much momentum from talking CONSTANTLY FOR SIX HOURS that her sentences collided and tumbled out of her face in a string of unintelligible crap! Either that or she had a stroke in the middle of that sentence... ALL SHE DOES IS LOUDLY COMPLAIN ALL DAY LONG AND TALK AT LENGTH ABOUT SANDWICHES (to customers who just want to get their food and leave). I STAND TEN FEET FROM HER ALL DAY. IT IS INTOLERABLE. *weeps*

Today I ran into a huge-o-gantic Wal-Mart with my mom and nephew to pick up some strawberries and flip-flops (yeah). Anyway, it was raining, and there was a massive drainage ditch wrapping around the back of the Wal-Mart. I had never seen it so full before, so I commented on it:

"The Wal-Mart has a moat!"
At hearing my exclamation, Oldest Nephew glanced over and casually said, "It's to keep the K-Mart at bay."

Oldest Nephew is pretty awesome sometimes.

...But he was wrong, of course. That Wal-Mart vanquished the rival K-Mart yeeeaaaars ago (the K-Mart shell was left to rot for a decade or so, then repaired and occupied by a Hobby Lobby... in preparation for its war with the approaching Michael's, DUN DUN DUN). Now, I believe, the moat is primarily used as a trap for children who ride across the parking lot on shopping carts--and fall down the steep drop. TRUFAX (note: not trufax).

Nobody on Facebook appreciated this, so I will post it here:
AWESOME BIRD THAT LOOKS LIKE A MUPPET.
Come on. I bet it could swallow an infant with that mouth.
...I mean, not a human infant...
But... some kind of infant.
Maybe a kitten.

Today I made a narwhal out of cupcakes. I had no reference to go by, so when I got home I image searched narwhals to see if I got the shape/coloration ANYWHERE NEAR CORRECT... which lead me to this blog post, which is SUPER KEEN AND HILARIOUS. And it's part of a blog called MONSTER REBELLION, which makes it even MORE KEEN AND MOTHERFUCKING AWESOME. Hello, subscribe button.

So, um, that. You like my narwhal? I wanted to make goofier, damnit.

Man, I can't tell if I can't read social cues or if my co-workers are just dicks. I can never tell if they're joking. It's maddening.

... Although I am sort of leaning toward "dicks" (or possibly just social weirdos like myself) because several of them say things they mean seriously in a light, giggly tone and then get offended when you take their statement as a joke. IF IT'S NOT A JOKE, WHY DID YOU SAY IT LIKE THAT? ARRRRRGH... And are you really offended? I CAN'T TELL THAT EITHER. ARRRRGH.

Also, one of my co-workers creeps me out, and I can't tell if it's because he's actually sort of shady or just because he walks with a pronounced limp and has missing teeth. IT MAKES ME FEEL BAD. But he does call everybody "darlin'" and seems to subtly talk down to the women he works with, so I can still tell myself that I think he's a SECRET MISOGYNIST and not just a physical stereotype from old horror movies. Of course everybody subtly talks down to everybody in the deli; it is a den of hatred and malice.

Cookie fries.

COOKIE FRIES.

Oh god. Oh god, they're so awesome. I pretty much hate sugar cookies, but SO AWESOME.

GUESS WHO HAS A NEW IDEA FOR HER NEPHEW'S BIRTHDAY!

P.S. Yesterday I observed an eensy weensy, teeny tiny praying mantis in my potted plants, and I still experience small bursts of delight when I think about it. It was tiny! Smaller than my fingernail! With a tiiiiny little spindly body like thread! And it hopped between pots. Amazerryyy.

My sister is pregnant again. She can neither support nor stand the kids she has, but she wants more! Yay! Another child for her to tire of after a few months and dump on our mom! Another child for my sixty-year-old mother to raise!

When we found out she was pregnant (we found out from her kids, since she's been keeping it a secret from our parents), I begged my mom not to help her and not to take responsibility for this kid. She's already running herself ragged trying to take care of the three grandchildren she already has; she's been raising children non-stop for thirty-five years. She shouldn't have to do this. I fear that it's actually killing her, and I love my mom. Damned if I'm going to let my idiot sister destroy her (as hard as she's goddamned trying).

My sister is thirty-five. Why can't she think?

I have decided to name my new "curly locks" ivy plants Goldilocks and Rapunzel.

Goldilocks is in a bright yellow pot.

I am terribly creative.