Tag Archives: Log

Log, THAT House

THAT House Pt. 2

Leave a comment

Another house story.

The first neighborhood from Indiana I lived in was a nice street with a few cul-de-sacs branching off. Down one you drove past there was:

The Library House.

We called it that for two reasons: 1) it was a large house and 2) it looked like one of our local libraries.

I always imagined the people who lived in it would sit in a private library in their drinking robes, shooting back some old-fashions or smoking cuban cigars….I didn’t have a unique imagination outside of movies and books back then.

Spoiler alert: the people who lived there were nothing like that, but every Halloween they always gave out the best candy and even juice boxes so kids wouldn’t get dehydrated running around.

And they did some of the best decorations, too.

Not much else to say only because I feel like a nice, easy story was better following the Pimp House. Missed it? Read ALL about it here.

Cat Tales Woo-oo, Log

Naked Cat Pics

Leave a comment

My mom hates sphinx cats.

Okay, she doesn’t HATE them, but she doesn’t like looking at them. I on the other hand find them adorable and hilarious. I’ve on occasion threatened to shave our cats to prove cats are cute naked.

Not really. But I have collected a backlog of photos from the internet to send my mom whenever I need a laugh.

Ex. 1 (The Beginning: it started innocently enough)

fullsizeoutput_31f

 

Ex. 2 (started to get weird)

 

fullsizeoutput_32b

 

Ex. 3-9 (got suuuuuper weird)

 

 

Finally Ex. 10-11 (I won her over)

 

 

Course, then I shared this with my friends………..and they didn’t seem to find it as funny as me…………so I showed them the error of their ways with a special Halloween treat:

 

 

Bottom line:

Sphynx cats are THE BEST!!

Log, Thinking Out Loud

Ding Dong Damn It

Leave a comment

The return of the self censor.

I got a little frustrated with something I was working on the other day and this gem slipped out of my mouth:

Ding Dong Damn It.

My dad happened to overhear me yell this and felt it necessary to inform me that it was a “Girl Curse”.

And I thought to myself…why?

Because it sounded cute? Because no man would be caught dead saying “ding dong”? Because I, a girl, said it?

If I’d said my usual curse would that have been a boy curse? (for those wondering my usual curse is Mother F***er God Damn It!!)

Look, I’m all for equality. Which means I’ll curse like a boy whenever I want. But I can’t control my brain when it decides, oh no this is the time to censor ourselves. I DIDN’T EVEN REALLY CENSOR MYSELF! I STILL SAID DAMN, DAMMIT!!

Anybut, just thought I’d share this.

Cause the other post I started writing (and left as a draft) was too much of a downer. Not that you’ll ever see it/I haven’t decided if I’ll ever post it.

Log, THAT House

THAT House Pt. 1

Leave a comment

Is it an unwritten rule that every neighborhood has to have THAT house?

The enigma house. The house everyone has a nickname for or the house with a crazy urban legend story that really isn’t that crazy, but then there’s the house where the urban legend turns out to be true.

I live in California now, but I also lived in two different neighborhoods in Indiana. Everywhere I’ve lived there have been THAT house(s?). I can’t cover all of them in one post so this will become a series. Between other posts of course.

But which house to start with? There are so many options…

…I know what house to start with.

And it’s kind of cheating because I didn’t live in the neighborhood of this house, but EVERYONE at my school knew about this house.

It had three different names, depending on how old or innocent you were. The first name was the ugly house. Not very descriptive, but if a kid in your class asked about the ugly house you knew exactly what house they were talking about. (I personally called it the dolphin house, which I will explain later).

Its second name? The pimp house.

…………………

Have you let that name roll around in your brain? Good. What would you imagine a house middle school to high school aged children called the pimp house (or ugly house) looked like?

Well, you’re wrong….unless you’re from Indiana….then you know EXACTLY what the house I’m talking about looks like.

And it’s not a joke. The guy who owned the house was a pimp (at one time, then he got into “construction” uh-huh sure)! Don’t believe me? Here’s the Daily Mail (yes, even ENGLAND knew about the pimp house or “mansion” as they call it) talking about it! But for a more detailed (and more photographic) article about the house click here. (This will take you to an IndyStar article)

I could go into its history but I could never do it justice like the articles above.

Wait, you said there were three names. What’s the third one?

……the naked house. Yes, us innocent children called it, a PIMP house, the naked house. For those of you not connecting the dots…first off, congratulations on your innocence (I lost that long ago…not because of the pimp house). The story (because of course no one knew who actually saw this happen so it became a story) is that you could see naked women walking through the house all the time.

For reference here is a photo of the house (this was all we ever saw of the infamous building):

1386618562016-Hostetler1-15-

And now you see why I called it the dolphin house. That fountain has a number of dolphins on it. Oh, and also how easy it would’ve been for anyone to see a naked woman walking past those huge windows. ANYBUT!

This house became legendary to my middle and high schools which were both located only a measly (and I shit you not!) 6 MINUTES AWAY!!

This house was 3 miles from middle school and high school students and it was legen…wait for it….DARY!!!

 

 

P.S. – I know this house had its social media moment back in 2017 and it thrilled me. This secret that was a tall tale among me and my peers finally got the attention it deserved. HOWEVER! There is nothing like being part of the generation (before social media) who passed on the stories of the ugly, naked, (dolphin) pimp house.

P.P.S – It’s still for sale if anyone’s interested. And it’s been lowered from $1.7 million to just under $1 million. A real steal.

P.P.P.S – there was also a period of time when everyone thought the owner of the house was a drug lord or mafia boss because nothing exciting ever happens in Indiana…at least, not back then. It was actually a little disappointing when we finally learned for a fact it was a former pimp who lived there…but only a little.

Log, Thinking Out Loud

….?

Leave a comment

I don’t have a fun name for this mind vomit.

Insomnia runs in my family…I think…or it does starting with my mother and me…sure. Anybut, here I am at 1:28 am writing a nonsensical observation on insomnia.

It got me thinking about that article that came out some time ago (when, I have no idea, I didn’t really pay that much attention when said article came out). The article was about how people in olden times (this phrase was standing in for the actual time period the article mentioned, but as I wrote it I realized I won’t be doing research to find this article…so there) how people in olden times used to sleep for like fours hours, wake up in the middle of the night, do some chores or something else productive, and then go back to sleep until they woke up for the day.

What does this have to do with my insomnia? Nothing really, but I always think about that article. I wonder if my insomnia is due to my past life as an olden time person bleeding into my now life. Like the olden times person inside of me is wanting to only sleep four hours then do productive work, but unfortunately the present me would rather watch stupid videos on YouTube or binge watch the same shows over and over on Hulu or Netflix.

The opposing forces fighting inside making it impossible for me to sleep. Causing my insomnia.

…Or maybe it’s my anxiety. Yeah, that sounds more correct.

Log, Thinking Out Loud

Coconut…Cocoanut?

Leave a comment

I got a recipe box for Christmas with brand new recipe cards and I took some time during a rainy day to start filling it/copy down the recipes in my grandmother’s old recipe box.

Before I continue I need to make one thing very clear…I’m not a cook. I’m not a baker. I’ve only made food three times for my friends total…and that was mostly because of guilt for always bringing cheese plates or fruit trays to parties. I’ve helped my friends cook, but I need them to walk me through every step. I didn’t even know how to properly cut up a bell pepper (apparently there’s a specific way to do it?!).

Now, continuing the story:

While I was working on my…30th card the word coconut had been coming up a lot. Now some of these cards I was copying from are OLD. I mean 40+ years old. Anyways, I noticed coconut occasionally was spelled cocoAnut.

This got my stupid brain thinking, a dangerous thing to happen. I called my mom and asked her, “Do they call coconuts, coconuts because when they discovered them, people thought they were like cocoa beans, but clearly a nut so they called them cocoanuts?”

She paused. Sighed, you know the sigh. It’s the Am I really having this conversation right now? sigh. Then she answered, not very enthusiastically I might add, “I don’t know. I wasn’t there when they decided that.”

Fair. But then why do people constantly misspell it cocoanut?

And before any of you get smart with me and try to explain the linguistics mumbo-jumbo, realize it won’t work. I’ve created this version of history in my head where the first explorers or whoever found a palm tree and thought “Wow! Look at the size of that cocoa bean! We could make sooooo much chocolate out of that sucker!” Then when they cracked it open to see the white coconut flesh inside and got soaked from the coconut milk they deflated and were really disappointed and sad. I mean could you imagine a cocoa bean the size of a coconut? That would be the best chocolate ever…

Log, Our House

Shame Dragon

Leave a comment

There’s a dragon in our downstairs bathroom that watches you while you pee. Their (it’s a pink dragon but I choose not to assume gender because there are perfectly handsome pink dragons who are boys and besides the dragon in our bathroom won’t answer if I ask) judgmental eyes are both a deterrent to anyone clogging the pipes as well as a guilt trip to ensure one washes his or her hands.

We originally bought this dragon as a Valentine’s Day gift for my mother and she chose to hide it around the house. Whoever found it would then have to hide it and so on. We did this for around two months before the dragon found its home in the bathroom.

It’s still there.

I don’t think many people notice it or if they do, they choose not to say anything.

Fair.

But when I use it, those big ol’ eyes stare me down until I almost can’t do my business. It’s moments like this that make me wonder, why do we get so embarrassed in public restrooms? (A leap in logic, but hang with me)

I can only speak on behalf of the female perspective, but I assume some men go through a similar feeling…? Maybe differently…no definitely differently since you guys have that whole stall versus urinal thing. So you know when a man uses the stall it’s more than likely cause he’s releasing the stinky kraken…that’s totally a saying, right?

I mean, everyone knows people pee and poo, but for some reason we become embarrassed when in those solitary stalls. You can’t tell me you haven’t once in your life sat there waiting for the other person to start their business before you do yours. Or you do the required cough or loud sniff or loud sigh to cover the sounds of your business.

This of course doesn’t count close friends or family, or when you’re so sick you literally couldn’t give a fart knuckle if the person next to you hears your intestines being forcefully exploded from your butthole…TMI?

I understand there are those few who give no thought when they use the public restroom, but for the many who awkwardly hope to keep the (purely misplaced) lie that humans don’t excrimentate (this is totally a word, btw) it’s oddly infuriating.

One of my closest friend’s significant other didn’t even believe women pooped or farted for the longest time. (I mean he did believe it, but did that whole man thing where they ignore that fact to keep women on this strange pedestal of…I don’t know…cleanliness I guess?) It took a loooooooong time for them to become comfortable with her pooping. No issue about him pooping, which I wonder if that’s like a sexist thing or a, I don’t know, double standard that oddly everyone just kind of accepts?

Anyways, I went off on a tangent, as one does. This was supposed to be a funny story about the pink shame dragon in my bathroom and it turned gross.

I apologize…but the shame dragon knows the truth and will continue to judge you.

Cat Tales Woo-oo, Log

Catstagram

Leave a comment

Okay, here is my obligatory cat mom moment.

I have two cats. Lele and Midna. I made them an Instagram account (lele_midna if you were curious 6_6).

Those little punks have more followers than me (not like a lot a lot, but enough that it still hurts my pride). I mean, I’m not really into the whole social media scene as evident by the fact my regular, normal Instagram is barely updated/posted on.

And true, I have invested more effort into keeping their account posting at least one picture every day (when possible).

And TRUE! My cats are a lot more adorable than me and people seem to enjoy creeping on other people’s pets.

AND TRUE! A lot of the accounts that follow them are probably bot accounts or spam accounts that post the same posts…BUT STILL!

I’m a little offended that two creatures who don’t even know what Instagram is or why I stick my phone in their faces when they’re trying to sleep are more popular than me. Not that I like attention anyways.

I just think someone who actually puts a small amount of effort to be a weirdo online should get more attention than two lazy bone cats.

 

 

For those sad souls curious……deep breath…….my Instagram account is luddiewig.

I Have A Dream, Log

Octopus Nightmare

Leave a comment

I’ve been having some weird dreams lately. Maybe it’s because I’ve actually been getting some good sleep, you know the deep sleep.

Real life blending with…well, not real life. Anyways, it’s been reminding me of this one nightmare I had back when I was maybe eleven or twelve. I think it was the first real nightmare that terrified me while I was experiencing it. I’ve had nightmares before and since that’ve given me the cold sweat wake ups, but this one is still as clear as the night I had it.

I was on a tour bus, like the one at Universal Studios, except instead of touring a studio it was touring our neighborhood. Only it wasn’t really our neighborhood, there were no trees or hills and the houses were spaced out more like the neighborhood from Edward Scissorhands.

The bus driver stopped and pointed behind us like in an old B-movie horror kind of way. You know, the point with open mouth and scream instead of running or saying anything useful.

Everyone on the bus turns and a tidal wave is rushing towards the bus, but then a giant octopus exploded from the water. A giant purply-brown octopus (yes, I remember the color…it had silver eyes).

I feel I need to explain something before continuing. When I was in elementary and middle school I had an irrational fear of octopi. I choose to believe this was due to how the Indianapolis Zoo chose to present an octopus. In the darkest room ever. The tank was so dark you could barely see anything. It reminded my young, innocent child self of that seen in Jaws 3D (yes, that Jaws 3D) where the girl is looking out the window and the half eaten diver appears sending everyone into a panic (needless to say that scene scared the piss out of me as a child…the only thing in that movie really). So I expected the hiding octopus to slam into the glass if I stood too close.

Follow-up: the octopus never did, it barely ever moved from under a very comfortable looking rock…if you ever saw it at all.

BACK TO THE NIGHTMARE!

So I’m already suffering from said irrational fear of octopi when a gigantic, enormous octopus explodes from the tidal wave rushing at the tour bus I’m on. I, being an intelligent human, run off the bus and into my house which the bus conveniently parked in front of before the tentacled attack.

I lock the doors, but I can see the octopus outside the windows, its creepy eye peering in at me. The front door is knockedf off its hinges and a large tentacle chases me up the stairs.

I run into my parents bedroom because as in typical horror movie fashion I think the bathroom will be safe and my parents had a very nice bathroom in Indiana. A tentacle wraps around my ankle and starts pulling me back. I grab the bed posts of my parents’ bed and hang on for dear life.

And here is where the nightmare entered into the forever remembered halls of my brain. I did the trick. You know, the trick you’re supposed to do to prove your in a dream.

I pinched myself. I DID! I hung onto the bed post as a tentacle pulled my leg nearly out of socket and pinched my arm. To be fair, it didn’t hurt so I knew I was dreaming. But it didn’t really make me feel better because I was still terrified.

Then I woke up. Cold sweat, breathing quickly, heart pounding a mile a minute…but not being attacked by an octopus.

Fun fact: I’m no longer afraid of octopi. I think they’re fascinating and probably could take over the world if they chose. I AM deeply terrified of sting/manta rays though…but that’s a story for another day.

It Just Got Personal, Log

6-Foot Bullshit

Leave a comment

BEFORE I EVEN START: I know not all people over 6 ft do this. This rant is about those who do. If you don’t, congratulations this ISN’T about YOU!

This is a rant about 6-foot Bullshit. What is 6-foot Bullshit? It’s those select few who tower above the rest of us and try to intimidate shorter folk with their sheer size.

I’m here to tell you…IT DON’T WORK ON ME!

Now I’m not short short (I’m a nice average 5’5”) so I can only speak from my perspective. BUT it happens often enough I need to say something about it.

I’ve had multiple occasions where people have tried to shove their way past me (whether in a line or not) and when I don’t allow it, they physically lean over me and try to intimidate me into allowing them to do whatever they want. Sorry, buddy, that doesn’t scare me. I’m the runt in my family so I’ve had my whole life to learn how to handle you tall people.

And what I’ve learned…it works. Standing up to them or showing you aren’t one to be steamrolled…they tend to back off. It’s simple, people get away with things because others let them. But most times (there are ALWAYS exceptions) once someone pushes back, they stop.

For those few cases who continue even when faced with someone who won’t take the 6-foot Bullshit…you are a 6-foot Asshole.

Don’t be a 6-foot Asshole.