There are no clocks in Las Vegas Casinos.
Also no windows (or at least, extremely few windows). They don’t want people to realize they’ve been gambling their money away all day and night.
Ok, harsh. They actually just want you to lose track of time cause you’re more likely to keep gambling if you don’t know how long you’ve been sitting at the same machine, table, or whatever.
Does anybody else….
When you get a message and you’re unsure what to say…I mean like REALLY unsure what to say (like you go through twenty different iterations of what you want to say)….when you finally DO respond, you immediately run away?
Now I don’t mean literally, of course. I mean if, let’s say, you respond to something on Twitter or Facebook…you immediately log out of your account because you need to mentally prepare yourself for the response to your response.
OR if it’s like a text message with friends, you actively make sure you put the phone FACE DOWN on the table or desk or bed or whatever!
I ask because…I do all the time. Hell, I did it right before writing this post.
I mean, I end up reading the response to my response anyways, but I need that small buffer time. In person I’m incredibly shy…no, really. I am like stupidly shy (and I use stupidly in the sense of overwhelmingly….I guess I could’ve just used overwhelmingly…Annnnnnybut).
You know what I mean? You don’t? I’m just crazy? Ok.
Well, how about this:
Does anybody else, on top of thinking through twenty different responses, after realizing you’ve paused for far too long just…don’t respond?
This happens sometimes with my friends. I’m thinking of my response to something (going through many different iterations as mentioned previously) and when I’m finally satisfied with my response….it’s been almost ten minutes and the conversation has either a) moved on, b) continued on with THEIR lives (my friends, not the conversations obviously), or c) if my response was meant to be a joke or pun or something funny the moment has passed.
I know normal people would simply just respond anyways, but I don’t know if you’ve gathered from other posts….I’m far from normal when it comes to conversations…what with being overwhelmingly shy and all.
This is one of many reasons I try to pre-empt anything that may open me up to strangers messaging me with a notice saying: I’m very bad at responding. Please don’t expect me to be good or quick about it.
I do my best, but sometimes my brain just won’t let me be impulsive when it comes to written communications.
I was in a play in high school…
My senior year of high school I was cast in our school’s production (Thespian Society production to be clear) of Steel Magnolias. I was cast as Ouiser Boudreaux. If you’re only familiar with the movie, or even if you are not, that was the character played by Shirley MacLaine. She was the kind of stubborn, angry one. Of course there’s more to her character than that, but for a public high school production in Indiana that is the best description I ever got.
Anybut, the point is! In the script is a scene mentioning a strange cake. A red-velvet armadillo cake….as in, when you cut into the cake…it looks blood red inside.
Now as a mature high school student, I made the best decision ever. For my senior graduation party (which I shared with another girl because there was no way enough people would show up to one thrown just for me, but that’s a story for another day), I decided to have an armadillo cake. The other girl who I shared the party with was in on it. She played Annelle in the play with me.
Did we get a lot of confused stares? Absolutely.
Did we care? Abso-fucking-lutely not.
It was funny. We were proud of it. And it was amazing.
And do I have a picture of it? OF COURSE!! But not cut into, but trust me….it was blood red inside.
Do I also have pictures of me as Ousier Boudreaux? Yes, but you’ll have to wait for a future post for those. 😉
I have a bone to pick…
I used to say this ALL the time in middle school through high school. I was the ONLY person I knew who said this. I never heard anyone else use it. I never saw someone use it on TV or anywhere. I WAS MADE FUN OF FOR SAYING IT ALL THE TIME!!!
Now, all of the sudden…it…is…EVERYWHERE!!!
I mean, to be honest, it’s not like it’s the most innovative, creative, or whatever saying ever thought of. It rhymes. It’s catchy. And if you’re from the midwest it may have other connotations…ok…maybe not really, but maybe!
What’s my point?
I don’t know.
I guess…just to have a smug reaction to all the people who used to make fun of me for saying it all the time. SEE!!! I thought of something people say all the time now!
NOTE: I am aware this may actually have been a popular phrase in the south and I’m just a stupid northerner who thought of something that millions of people already said….and maybe I heard it in a movie as a small child my parents were watching and I just don’t remember because I was a child watching a movie for older folks…….BUT! At least among my friends in Indiana, I was ahead of my time.
Have I ever mentioned….
How much I love quesadillas? Well I do.
This has been a random food update.
I need to catch up on work…
Not actual job work, but work I promised myself I wouldn’t let slide. Well, that isn’t working out…no pun (?) intended…
I mean, I’ve always been a bit of a slacker or to be more precise last minute worker. As much as I try to not wait to the last minute to do things, the habit has been ingrained in me since, god, elementary school.
And I love hanging out with my friends….I DO!!! But sometimes, it feels like we always plan things right when the stars line up to allow me to get work done. I get the house to myself, it’s the weekend so I don’t have to worry about random knocks on the door…usually, and I feel the wave of slackness leaving (yes it comes in waves).
Then my friends plan things. Sometimes I get enough of a heads up to adjust accordingly….other times….I become a slacker. I put off saying I can’t do it, until it’s like too late or too inappropriate or uncouth to say I can’t do it.
And even if I did….how do you explain to your friends (who have faaaaar more strenuous jobs or actual 9-5, 5 days a week jobs) that you just can’t because of your own failures as an organized human being? Or how do you tell them that you just can’t go spend money on food or fun activities because the paychecks are few and far between and even when I get them….there’s not much left over after the necessities…
How do you let them know you’re ashamed of yourself and don’t talk about your life because you don’t want them to know how much of a downward spiral you feel like you’re on?
…………….Especially when their problems, their life issues…..are actual ones that aren’t because they’re slackers like me?
Do you remember…
The earliest nightmare you ever had?
I do.
And I know it was the earliest nightmare because I was still in a crib.
Back story: I apparently was very picky about toys when I was a baby, but if I could’ve told my parents about this nightmare clearly, I’m sure they would’ve understood why better.
Anybut, back to the nightmare.
I remember being in my crib and I looked over at a shelf that was…preeeetty high up on the wall across the room. Sitting on the shelf were a number of toys, but the most important toy for the purpose of this story is a Teddy Bear.
It was a very nice bear, from a German company that I can’t remember the name of (but if I do I’ll edit this post at the bottom with the name). It was a normal little dark brown bear with a pink bow on its…left ear? right ear? left ear.
It wasn’t a very nice bear this night. It’s head decided to turn towards me as I stared at it…before pulling an Exorcist…and spinning all the way around. Then it fell from the shelf to the floor.
And that was the nightmare. The strangest thing though was the next morning, my parents found the bear on the floor….
BUT that was enough to make me hate that teddy bear toy for many years. I literally wouldn’t allow it in my room until I went to college. By then, it was more of a nostalgic thing…one of the earliest gifts from my parents as I left them for my new life as an adult…college student.
So, yeah, that was the earliest nightmare I can remember. I have another nightmare to share with you all another day….that one doesn’t have a relatively happy ending, though.
For your viewing pleasure:
If you’re curious about the odd loss of fur, this picture was taken a week after we got our little Queen spayed. This picture is old (notice the Santas in the background, we do not keep them up all year round) and she has her fur back.
Don’t worry. We don’t shave our cats.
Going back to a previous post…
What post you ask? (WARNING: Shameless plug to other post imminent) THIS POST: Always Late
Anybut, I had this stupid idea while I was lying awake in bed last night at 3 in the morning.
I should start a podcast. I could call it Late to the Game. My friends and I could talk about the new things happening and how we’re Late to the Game in joining them, using them, or whatever.
It could also be an educational podcast for others who are Late to the Game. Like my post about “Stans”. What post you may ask? (WARNING!!!: Second shameless plug to other post coming your way!) THIS POST!!!!: Stans……?
Okay, enough shameless plugs to previous posts. The bottom line is this………..I can’t call it Late to the Game. There’s already a podcast about games called that….
Ding dong dammit (I won’t link to this post, but if you’re curious try to find it yourself! Think of it as a scavenger hunt with no real payoff)
Oh well, I guess my dream of adding podcaster to my long list of things I’m branching unhealthily into.
Our house is located on a main road.
Well, not really…but really. We’re one of the first two houses when you turn into our neighborhood, but the north (?) facing side of our house is to a main, busy road.
The point is, our house was also built in the 70’s so it’s not that….soundproof. Every truck that goes by, you feel it. The house shakes a little.
Also, anyone walking by in the middle of the night talking relatively loudly, guess what? I can hear every word you’re saying. Not 100% clearly, but enough to make it hard to go back to sleep.
Anybut, the real reason I bring this up is this: It makes it very hard to record anything. And I don’t have the option to hide in a closet like most people.
A Joy on the Up Days...Self Control: Needs Improvement 