Stories so anonymous, they could be yours.

Bike envy.

This story is long over due. It happened weeks ago, but I simply did not feel like laying out the details. Until now. Styrr is practicing his vegetable cutting for culinary school, and one can only take so many pictures of ‘carrot-staches’ (you know… carrot mustaches).

At the beginning of August, Styrr decided to take me out for dinner. He went so far as to pick out one of my dresses, give make up suggestions, and advise me on how to wear my hair. Sort of… his subtle way of telling me those were his favorite things without outright saying it. I classed up my ensemble with boots and playful fishnet-type stockings. Let’s just say I looked amazing, because I did.

Dinner was at the place that Lion started working this summer. I tasted lamb for the first time, and had a happy amount of drinks. Afterwards, Styrr and I walked down the street to a bar where we waited for Lion to get done work.

Insert more drinks.

Midnight. Officially became Styrr’s Birthday.

Insert Birthday shots!

Finally, the three of us started walking back to our respective cars.

Lion to my left, Styrr to my right, happy little trio walking down the street. At an intersection, I decided to be a smart ass and try to kick Lion. My toasty self used the wrong foot and swung it in the wrong direction. The end result was a tangling of booted feet with fishnet-type stockings, and a sudden decent towards the street. Only after slamming down on my knee did I manage to twist around and safely land on my rear.

And then followed through the motion and laid down all together. I’m pretty sure some middle aged women saw my underwear. Both Lion and Styrr made to help me up, and I brushed it off like nothing happened.

Insert major embarrassment.

It only took about ten seconds to assure them that I was fine, that it was no big deal, and laugh it off. I quickly made to change the subject. At that moment a man just happened to peddle by on his bicycle, and Lion made a sincere comment under her breath about how she wished she could be riding a bike.

The Bike Man did not understand this sentiment and took it to be an insult. Without looking back or slowing his pace, he called out, “At least I didn’t fall.”


All purpose forks.

Temporary work was offered my way about three weeks ago. My friend’s father owns a small restaurant, and needed a little help until the summer season was over. Which worked out great for me, because I was hoping to move out of the area by then. This place is very awesome. The food is great, the owner is really nice. There’s only about five of us that make up the entire serving staff.

That is all besides the point. I just needed to establish that I have been working a little bit recently, so that this story would make sense.

One of my first days working, there was a woman that came in by herself to eat breakfast. She was probably in her late 50s (I’ve never been very good at guessing ages past the early 30s). Towards the end of her meal, her back began to get itchy. How do I know this?

She took the fork (which was being used to eat her eggs…) and glanced around the room. Then began scratching at her back with the fork, and resumed eating.


Licensed to Nun.

Sometimes life throws things at me that I’d never imagine on my own. Driving through town the other day, I started making a left turn at a traffic light. My eyes happened to notice the car waiting at the corresponding red light.

There was a nun sitting in the driver’s seat. Full black and white outfit, complete with head cover. (I’m pretty sure that’s called a habit… But my precautionary Google Search to double check just gave me listings for slutty nun costumes. I don’t want to live on this planet anymore.)

Both Styrr (my passenger) and I saw the nun driver at the same time and excitedly started exclaiming babble about it. We were so shocked that a nun was allowed to drive a car! My foot was excited too, as it pressed on the gas pedal a little too much and my car bottomed out slightly on the uneven pavement of the road. Soon as we were past her, we kind of quieted down and looked at each other.

Feeling slightly stupid, we realized there really was no reason a nun couldn’t drive a car. It’s just not something we’ve ever seen in this area before. Or at the very least, any nuns driving around aren’t usually in the full traditional outfit… Either way, it was something I’d never think of on my own, and life threw it in my face.

Thank you life!

Moon Chasing.

Devaw called me last night. I thought he was just calling to say goodnight, as he randomly does these days (he’s off doing army things). To my surprise, he was calling to make accusations about the moon moving at super speeds. He claimed that in the 60 seconds he had been staring at it, it had managed to move an entire inch across his field of vision. I was skeptical, but he assured me it was true and got all excited.

So off I went, at his eager words, throwing on flip-flops and running through my house to try and get outside. Practically falling off my porch, I tried to find the moon. It was no where. I tried again, standing in a different spot. Halfway down my driveway, I realized that my night sky was nothing but clouds. Almost as suddenly as he had called, he had to go again.

So I was left standing in my driveway, looking up at a cloudy night sky with the stupidest grin on my face. Then I caught myself staring at my phone. Did that really happen? I just went running out into my yard to stare at a moon because a boy told me to. More importantly, I realized my feet were wet from the grass and went back inside.

Tape and bugs.

My bedroom is a battle field. If you have more than two legs, wings, or a creepily long body, be warned. My victories are swift, often painless, and always vastly amusing. I don’t remember how it started, but I’ve developed this skill of catching bugs with clear packing tape. The process is simple.

  1. See bug
  2. PANIC – add verbal confirmation of invasion if company is present
  3. Run away from invader
  4. Pick up tape, rip piece off
  5. Aim to place tape over offender
  6. Repeat until successful
  7. Fold tape in half to cover prisoner
  8. Toss in trash

In the event that tape does not work, there is always the choice of a flip flop or sneaker. That is a last resort tactic, as I do not like having smeared bug guts on my walls or floor. And I loathe cleaning those smears even more than making them. There has been a moth smeared on my ceiling for well over a year, just for the fact that I can’t bring myself to wipe it up.

  • A spider has been taped to my wall for weeks because it wouldn’t leave that awkward crease between wall and ceiling. And then it refused to suffocate.
  • Giant black ants taped: At least ten.
  • Styrr screamed once when I spotted a wasp. He ran out of the room, leaving me to fend for myself.
  • A spider came flying out of a blanket I was working on. I chased that sucker for ten minutes before finally grabbing my sneaker.
  • Once I caught a centipede on steroids. I almost threw up, after it almost touched my foot.
  • I had a giant black ant taped to my floor for a few days because I couldn’t get the tape back up.
  • Devaw once watched me chase a spider (while I screamed incoherently) until it fell off my wall and scurried behind my bed.
  • This post is making me realize just how many spiders get into my room.

Last night started out normal… Ish. It was normal-ish. Dinner was at Devaw’s house so that I could meet his visiting brother (and sister-in-law and their adorable children). Of course diner was delicious and there was conversation during, but that pretty much ended the family interaction. The tiny girl-cousin wanted to play a board game, and while it was more than appealing to me, it wasn’t my night to be lazy. Not too long after dinner, Devaw was itching to get out and walk around. (I can’t tell you where we went. That would be too much a hint about where I live, but I can tell you there were crowds of people out.) Parked on the side of a street, Devaw opened the center console to get something out. “I forgot I had a cheeseburger!”


Sure enough there was a cheeseburger wrapped in foil, just sitting there in the center console. I don’t even want to know how long it was in there. He hadn’t been home in days (thanks to his Army Duties) and he claimed it was homemade. He considered still eating it. I quickly informed him of how gross that would be so he opted to throw it away instead. Cheeseburger in hand, we started walking towards our destination and hoped to find a trash can along the way. “I should just give this to someone random,” he said.

“Ew, don’t do that. Who would even take it?”

“Hey, you want a free cheeseburger?” His hand extended out towards the first person we passed.

He had called out to a random teen-aged boy. The boy originally answered, “No, but thank you.”

“Okay man.” Devaw had only been joking to begin with, and chuckled a little under his breath.

“You have a great night, though.”

I heard the kid say this but Devaw didn’t seem to; he just kept walking. As though suddenly seeking attention after being ignored, the kid turned around and ran up behind us. “Actually, yeah! I’ll take a cheeseburger.” Caught off guard, Devaw just kind of handed it over to him, informed him the burger should still be good, and watched as the kid walked away. We stared at each other and started laughing in a shocked sort of way. Some random kid had really just accepted a random cheeseburger from a random stranger.


Logged in to check on my site just now, only to have WordPress wish me;


Happy Anniversary!

You registered on 2 years ago!

Thanks for flying with us. Keep up the good blogging!


I didn’t even know it had been two years. I don’t remember seeing this a year ago. I’m assuming this is more associated with my other blog, seeing as both of them are connected through the same account. It’s really weird to know that I’ve been writing here for two years now… I should be filthy rich and famous, people! Where are my groupies? Where are the paparazzi? I can’t believe I just spelled ‘paparazzi’ correctly on the first try.

There is nothing funny about this post, I just felt it necessary to point out my anniversary, seeing as I can never remember when I joined this site…. Now I have a post to use as reference. :P

A genius nephew…

I have taken to calling myself ‘nerd’ much more frequently these past few weeks. Probably because I play a lot of video games. ‘Time to nerd out’ or ‘nerding for hours’ have crossed my social media site quite a few times. Even now, I find myself alternating between TWO keyboards to type out this post…. That’s right. Two keyboards. I also have two mouse (s? mice? I don’t know what the plural should be in terms of computer equipment…). One of each is wireless. I’m so nerd I need wireless extras so I can use my computer from across the room.

That is all besides the point.

I am here to talk about my nephew, the little ball of adorableness that randomly visits my house.

Today while my mother babysat him, she brought him to my house to get a few things done. I was as usual sitting at the computer and playing my latest (and previous) obsession; Diablo 3. I played this game back in Nov 2012 – Jan 2013. Then I quit until a few weeks ago, and it’s been non-stop ever since.

For those of you who don’t play/understand Diablo 3; At the end of each level there is a monster boss you have to fight and defeat in order to move on to the next level. Obviously, lower level characters with worse gear have a harder time than higher level characters with better gear. When you have friends that play the same games, you kind of help each other out. Today I did just that; I took my higher level character with pretty awesome gear into my friend’s co-operative game, where his lower level character with semi-okay gear needed to finish a level.

That boss was dead in seconds. It just so happened that at the moment I killed the boss, my nephew walked past my open bedroom door. I gave him a funny look, trying to make him laugh. As if he knew I’d just accomplished something awesome in the gaming world, he looked at me with a large grin on his face. He raised both his little one-year-old fists into the air and said, “Yay!”

My nephew is a nerd genius and I’m the only one who has noticed.

The Frog

Sometimes while reading other blogs here on WordPress, I am reminded of things that I should have written about a long time ago. Yesterday I read a post about a woman who likes to save small frogs from her pool. If I can find the post again, I’ll link it. But her post reminded me of my own story, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never mentioned it. Apologies if I have!

Set the scene; September 2012. I was at Styrr’s house. (I should also really make a comprehensible list of the people in my life, according to their nicknames, and their importance… Hahahaha. I’m lazy.) At some point during the night, way back then, I had been sitting on his couch watching tv. Styrr had taken his dogs outside, and upon returning inside got my attention. “Hey, catch!”

Without hesitation, I turned my head to look at him and held my hands out. It would have been a perfect catch too, except all of a sudden I had panicked. There was no telling what he was throwing my way, and since he had just been outside, that increased the odds of it being something that shouldn’t be touched. The object skimmed over my fingers and bounced on the floor. “What is it?” I feared the worse, that maybe it was some gross-boy-humor and he’d thrown a lovely dog shit at me. However, the potential piece of crap sat up, turned away from me, and looked a little stunned.

It was a small frog, so of course the next sound out of my mouth was a shriek of delight. I scooped it up from the floor, looked at it, and suddenly got angry. “WHY THE HELL would you throw a frog at me??”

“I thought you’d freak out. It kinda worked.” He smirked.

We spent the greater part of the following hour playing with it, fighting over who got to hold it, and eventually letting it go outside in the flowers.



Styrr and I were eating ice cream late one night. When food is involved with Styrr, he is required to remain no less than 10 feet away from anything I consider valuable, until the process is over. Sometimes it’s because he’s drunk and the food is too difficult for him to handle. Usually it’s because he is just plain clumsy and drops things on floors, beds, shoes, chairs, desks, clothing… You get the idea. Regardless, I always look at him with the same bewildered face. “Why are you always so messy?!”

Karma happens when he spills half melted ice cream on his new shirt (getting upset because it would stain), and I laugh. (Insert the usual tease about him being a mess.) Then shortly after while not paying attention to the container, I end up doing the same exact thing.

And he sees the entire mishap… And I get teased.

That is karma.

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