I'd like to tell you all that I've had a truly exciting week with lots of fabulous stories, but all I've done this week is cough and sniffle and bitch about being sick and count down the hours until the end of the week. I was in bed at 8 last night and I woke up even SICKER this morning.

I decided I should write a post about Camp Shack, since it was an exceptional evening of fun. I started thinking about the night, and I realized my full recollection of events stopped somewhere around the time that we arrived at the shack. I got a roll of film developed yesterday and the pictures are really quite amusing - the thing is, I remember very few of them being taken. Angie did an outstanding job capturing the Chubby Bunny Contest, among other things (like the dog's back). It's too bad I can't share them with the world.

Another realization that struck me is that I have managed to lose yet ANOTHER roll of pictures. All the pictures on it were taken, but it has apparently been misplaced. This is the second roll of fully exposed (oh baby) film that I have lost in the shuffle of shack drunk time. We better check by the salt lick. What's that? We never made it that far? Well SHIT. Anyway, this means that - among others - the pictures of me with the guy at the bar and the bag of minnows has been lost, a sacrifice to the shack and the good times had there. If it weren't rolls of film I lost to the shack, I'm pretty sure my friends would start disappearing, one by one, lost in the creepy woods, perhaps fallen down that deathtrap of a hill. Maybe that's why Brian didn't make it this year. Was he even THERE when we left last time?

Somebody get me my medication; I'm ready for bed.

There was Camp Shack...

And IT WAS GOOD.

Because you deserve it...

I plan on looking kind of like this, this weekend,

No, not the devil - just really drunk.

Do you see that disgusting growth on my lip that is partially covered by my tongue and that I attempted - poorly - to cover with make-up? That thing was seriously taking over my face a few weeks ago. I don't know what the hell it was, but it went from my bottom lip to my chin. Darren hasn't kissed me since.

Friday night brought much consumption of beer for me, all in a business suit. My only full business suit, in fact, which caused Angie, all night, to say, "Red, take that off! You're going to fall over and mess it up!" She had a point. Fortunately, I didn't fall over ONCE. (I don't think.)

There's really not many words that can describe Friday evening. My brother and sister-in-law came down for the Twins game, which Angie, Gretchen (Angie's neighbor), and I attended with them. Mike got his precious Johan bobblehead, which I somehow didn't get a picture of, while the four of us gals got a little tipsy at the bar across the street from my hotel.

From there we went to the Dome and, for the first time ever, I was able to see the numbers on the players backs. Jesse Crain was so close that I could have professed my love for him and let him know that we are, in fact, going to wed.

To the right is a shot of three supermodel types strutting their stuff on the way to the game. That's my sister-in-law, Amanda, on the left, Angie in the middle and Gretchen on the right. Does Angie know she's the shit or what? She caused such a scene all night, singing obnoxiously and using profane language at the game despite the nice family in front of us and we considered relocating, but we stuck around. Besides, the kid behind us was giving us a great education on what constitues a foul ball. He learned it from his video game, after all. Unfortunately, his video game didn't inform him that Corey Koskie is no longer a Twin and - imagine this - Shannon Stewart is!

Now, I would put these pictures on Flickr, but I uploaded too many and now they want money from me. The ones I uplaoded weren't even the good ones and I'm sure I'll end up forking out the twenty-five bucks, but for right now I'm just too lazy. So here's another for good measure, of Angie's neighbor, Rob and his sweet pup, Molly. Rob and I are secretly a thing. Am I a lucky gal or WHAT?

What else? There was a drunk bike ride, which I didn't take part in. Chuck and I were going to go on a drunk bike ride of our own, but instead he and Angie decided to have a big fight. I lay on the lawn at 3:30 am and sang songs to drown out the madness and Chuck tried to lock me out. I can't help but think Angie's sober neighbors are thrilled she's leaving. Fortunately, most of them are sober less often than not (and we all love them for it).

Gretchen's shirt - to the left - reads "Get Super Horny", in case you were wondering. She did get super horny and smacked my ass. It was good.

Now I'm going to tell you something gross, blog. On Saturday morning I defiled in Angie's downstairs bathroom, which we shall herein refer to as New Orleans. I plugged the toilet, tried to plunge it (I'm a terribly unskilled plungewoman), then I gave up for a while and my ADD brought my to my camera to look at the 85 pictures from the night before. After flipping through all the pictures - some twice - I turned to return to the bathroom and - *SPLASH* - there was a half inch of water. I mean no disrespect by calling it New Orleans...it was just a very unexpected flood of water that couldn't be consumed because it had poop in it.

What more can I really say? My camera can't wait for Camp Shack, and neither can I. Unfortunately, viewing the pictures of myself from Friday made me cry and it's crazy diet time. I even wrote Darren a hundred dollar check that he gets to cash if I cheat. It's been effective thus far.

I will conclude with some family photos, since this was a family weekend. Check Mike out. I used to be jealous that he tanned so nicely while I am incapable. Upon realizing the horrors of facial tan lines, I have decided pale isn't all that bad.

*Note: The formatting really appears to suck, but I don't care. I'm going to bed.

While I was waiting for the bus after work today, a "homeless bum" (information he provided without my asking, mind you) made fun of me for reading Harry Potter, saying I'm an adult now and it's time to read big girl books. But we did have something in common - his nickname was Harry Potter in jail. Somehow I didn't feel bad being called childish by a former inmate, current homeless kid.

But moving along to the promised inantimate object post...

If you ever come to my little corner of heaven, you will see it's like Christmas every day here. The kind of Christmas where elves are stabbed in the eye with splintered toothpicks and Santa skids down your chimney to rape your mom, then sets your house alight and whips the hell out of Rudolph and the boys on the way out, focusing on not spilling hsi beer on his already-stained red suit while ho ho hoing his boisterous glee.

THIS is the kind of Christmas I'm talking about:



Since the very first day I stepped foot in this apartment (shortly after Christmas in 2004), this freaky little fellow has been prominently displayed on top of the stereo speaker...along with all that dust. Does anybody else find this nearly as disturbing as I do? I have a funny feeling this little beast comes alive every morning when I leave for work and causes chaos throughout the day. That would explain the mess that never seems to go away no matter how much Darren tries to clean up after me.

If you ever visit my apartment, you will also notice that there is no real decorating to speak of. Darren planned on living here for a very short period of time and, two and a half years later, he's still talking about moving out. Therefore, no decorating. Except the cat....



...and the snowmen, which have been hanging on the door since the first day I set foot here. I spy a theme.

And finally, I present to you President Taft and Buddy, both of whom Darren won at the state fair for me and who collectively take up a tenth of the apartment.



Coming sometime soon: Pictures worth seeing!

Now with pictures!

This afternoon, while enjoying my lunch of an apple and carrots, I decided I wanted a digital camera. This afternoon, when I returned home from work, I bought a digital camera. God, I love having a job. And now I get to introduce pictures to my blog, which just might be more than it can handle.

Since there's not much else to photograph around here and I simply HAD to post a picture, I introduce to you:

LENNY

If this picture doesn't make you want to grab onto his fluffy white belly and shake him around, then you're just not American. Also, note the munchable paws. Can you believe I munch on my boyfriend's ex-girlfriend's cat's paws?!

Here's his adorable, little face, without the glowing yellow eyes.

I'm going to make this cat famous! Anyway, this is all that's new in my life. Tomorrow I'll show you the creepy inantimate objects in my apartment (that discludes the stuff growing in the bathroom) and perhaps I'll get myself all set up on that flickr business. I just had to wait until Alexis got it. I have to wait until Alexis does EVERYTHING so I can copy her.

When I was nine years old, some genius doctor thought wearing an eye patch would correct my wretched eyesight.

I remember the horror that overwhelmed me when I learned that I would have to stick a big, circular flesh-colored band aid on my eye and actually GO TO SCHOOL looking like that. It’s a lot for a nine-year-old to process. But it wasn’t that bad, I guess, looking back. I was only teased ruthlessly, causing me to throw my body to the ground, crying and flailing about, and THAT sure made the teasing better.

My mom used to put the patch on m eye every morning and I would cry like a dog in heat with no neighborhood pimps to bone. All the stickiness would wear off but that didn’t mean I didn’t have to wear the patch. Oh no! We had an endless supply of the little buggers. My mom used to try to make my "pirate look" better by putting stickers on the patch. That made me look even stupider…like I had a little pink sheep in lieu of an eyeball. My dad suggested on more than one occasion that I just get a black eye patch with the elastic band that wraps around your head. You know, like the kind that come with “Arrgh Matey” costumes at Halloween. He wasn’t even kidding.

I recently learned how hard it was for my parents to put me through this. I feel bad now that I gave them so much hell and, while telling a co-worker about it today, I nearly started crying – not because of the trauma (oh the trauma!) but because of what my parents must have gone through. Can having kids possibly be worth it?

Ah, but I failed to mention… The bloody eye patch did NOTHING to improve my vision. I went from joyful at the prospect of not having to wear the thing to pissed off beyond any comprehension in two flat third grader seconds. I was seething with anger, steam puffing from my nose and blood spouting from my ears. Then we went out to eat at a terrible restaurant that I’ll never forget (and which my dad will never let me forget). In fact, this eye patch experience was the last time I had been to downtown Minneapolis since, you know, moving here.

No wonder why I stayed away from this place. (I hope that was the point of this post because, if it wasn't, I don't know what the hell it was.)

One hundred (and one) things about me

you wish you never knew, but probably already knew even before this post:

1. City buses, with their creepy greenish nighttime glow, scare the crap out of me. I attribute this mostly to Heart and Souls.
2. Growing up, I used to dream of living on a farm in Montana with dogs. Nothing but dogs and acres of green grass that I never had to mow because it stayed short and plush and perfect. Maybe the grass kept the dogs alive and the dogs kept the grass short.
3. I also used to dream of owning a midget cow that never grew up and just stayed a calf forever.
4. Baseball players are the sexiest classification there is. Socks up is even hotter.
5. I finished college in three and a half years.
6. In my younger years, I used to pull out my hair. It grew back curly and now I have curly hair under straight hair and it’s annoying. I would advise anyone not to pull out hair as a hobby. Not their own, at least.
7. I live in an efficiency apartment with a man and a cat. It’s 520 square feet of solid fun.
8. I love cheese. LOVE. CHEESE.
9. The fact that I have red hair and blonde eyebrows/eyelashes often prompts questions regarding the carpet matching the curtains.
10. I can drink 12 ounces of beer in roughly 4 seconds. I think one time I did it in three, but that was when I was in college.
11. I am an incredibly gifted eater. There may be a lot I won’t eat, but I can sure eat a lot of what I will eat. I should enter contests.
12. I’ve had weight issues my entire life. (See above.)
13. People call me Red.
14. I would rather endure six straight years of immersion in fresh cow manure than relive my adolescent years.
15. My first kiss was in a hotel stairwell.
16. I didn’t go to prom. The only time I’ve danced with a boy was in a drunken tizzy at my brother’s wedding last year.
17. My sister-in-law and I share a name. And a bank account, if we’re not careful.
18. I have an usually high number of “girl crushes.”
19. Compliments will get you everywhere with me.
20. When I was ten years old, I carried around a tub of petroleum jelly in my coat pocket to allay unpredictable, but frequent, nosebleeds. I was teased a lot as a child.
21. Naughty words make me giggle, particularly when they are yelled by people who don’t scare me.
22. My brother has called me Stinky (Lord of the Apes) for years, leading to the overuse of deodorant to the point that it rolls into little balls and falls from my armpits into my shirt to be squeezed and smeared between my fingertips.
23. Sometimes I try to cut my nose hair, but I usually end up bleeding.
24. True to my Irish roots, I would die without potatoes.
25. I’m an albino. No, my eyes aren’t pink. Yes, you can be an albino without having pink eyes.
26. Words can’t describe how terrible my lack of direction is.
27. The last place I ever thought I would end up is living in the wretched Cities, working downtown. That’s where I am. That’s what I do.
28. I don’t have a driver’s license and my permit is expired.
29. I’ve never been on what I would consider a “real” date. I don’t think I ever will.
30. I like flowers, but I swoon for buffalo wings.
31. Carnies make me smile.
32. I vote Republican and I’m willing to be shunned by my peers for it.
33. I envy people that poop a lot.
34. My sister is the tall, skinny, beautiful, less disgusting version of me. And she’s got a great rack. Plus she’s single. But if it’s raunchy sex you’re looking for, she’s the wrong sister. I kid, I kid.
35. I unconsciously compare every new person I meet to people I already know to see which one of my acquaintances they most resemble. Then I expect them to act just like that person. Isn’t that stupid?
36. I name body parts.
37. I want to have Lew Ford’s love child.
38. After high school I thought I would never be able to replace my friends from home. Now that college is over I know I will never be able to replace my friends from Duluth.
39. Grape and orange are my favorite artificial flavors.
40. Purple and orange are also my favorite colors.
41. Mean people make me cry. So do sad people and sweet people and people that are crying. So do commercials.
42. I was never allowed to ride my bike on the highway, even at age 15. My dad recently told me it’s because I couldn’t “drive” straight and didn’t seem steady enough. Now I unicycle instead.
43. I look like Cindy Lou Who’s overweight, Raggedy Anne of an aunt. Damn my overbite.
44. My grandma is 92, lives alone, bakes potica all day and could kick your ass if she tried.
45. I don’t see much. It’s not that I don’t look – I just don’t see.
46. My reflexes are as slow as my metabolism.
47. I’m pro-life, but MAN do I hate some kids.
48. I was engaged at 17. Dumping him was the smartest thing I ever did.
49. Darren and I will get married. I can say that because he doesn’t read this.
50. I’m addicted to reality television: American Idol, Celebrity Fit Club, Surreal Life, Real World, MTV Challenges, So You Think You Can Dance. It’s an illness. I’m dealing with it.
51. I have lizard lips.
52. My favorite animal is the slow loris. What the hell is there not to love about the slow loris?
53. A clown made me cry in front of the whole school when I was seven because he said it looked like I had been standing in the rain too long. He referred to me as “Rusty.”
54. I have a thing for humane society animals. God love ‘em.
55. I have holes in all my socks.
56. I never throw away underwear, regardless of how old, ripped and stained. Yes, stained.
57. I love my family.
58. In fifth grade I failed a geography test. Failure still haunts me and I still don’t know where Zimbabwe is.
59. I buy into a lot of stereotypes.
60. I wish I had more surprises in my life. But good surprises. Not, “Surprise, you’re pregnant with triplets and their daddy’s the devil!”
61. There’s nothing I’m really good at. This bothers me.
62. I would smell White Out, nail polish, nail polish remover, gasoline and Sharpie markers all day if I knew it wouldn’t kill me.
63. I hate drama, but I can get pretty dramatic.
64. I’m a hugger coming from a family of non-huggers.
65. I was a D.A.R.E. role model in high school. What went wrong there?
66. I care what other think of me way more than I should.
67. Occasionally I experience temporary hearing loss. So far it’s always come back.
68. I shook President Dubya’s hand. And he smiled at me. And I melted.
69. I met Johan Santana. And he smiled at me. And I melted. I love you, Johan.
70. I have a dog named Lucy and a cat named Fatass, I mean Lenny, and if they ever met, Lucy would make a meal of Lenny.
71. I’ve only smoked twice in my life, on two consecutive evenings, and despite my lack of practice, I am a NATURAL.
72. I have never taken part in the use of illegal drugs. Not to say I’ve never wanted to…
73. My sister and I saw the real Patch Adams and Angie squealed, I’m pretty sure.
74. I drink pickle juice.
75. Turd is my least favorite word. Use this against me and I will hurt you.
76. Other countries I’ve traveled to include Italy, France, England and, of course, Canada.
77. I believe everything my father tells me, even though I am now realizing I shouldn't. As a sidenote, don't believe anyone who tells you that Jewish people's headstones are close together because they are buried upright so the change won't fall out of their pockets.
78. When I was twelve, I used to steal beer from my dad and sit in my room in the dark on the floor when my parents thought I was sleeping and get drunk.
79. College was my favorite time of my life so far. Not that that's a big surprise.
80. The banner on my cell phone reads "Ridhid".
81. I always wear long-sleeved shirts.
82. I dig humility.
83. I really like it when people sing my name.
84. Ghosts terrify me. I have never seen a ghost and I never want to. If you die
before me, please don't haunt me.
85. My first time getting rip roarin' drunk in public was at my mother's fiftieth birthday party. It took me a long time to learn how to drink without puking.
86. I’ve always been the youngest.
87. I’m into men who have goatees.
88. I prefer redundancy to change.
89. Expectation violation devastates me.
90. I wish I knew a little about a lot. Most people that say that know a lot about a little. I can’t claim that. I hardly even know a little about a little.
91. I’m clumsy. I fall down stairs, run into walls and trip over nothing.
92. I have freckles all over my arms, but nowhere else on my body.
93. Intelligence is hot.
94. I prefer gloves to mittens.
95. I can’t dance, but that doesn’t stop me from trying. Unfortunately, the same goes for singing.
96. One of my favorite things is to receive mail. Not bills – letters, cards, you know, the good stuff.
97. My sister is my best friend. You wouldn’t think that by reading my blog, I bet.
98. I’ve always wanted a bigger ass. If I got it, I bet I’d cry.
99. I feel bad that it was harder when my dog died than when my extended family members died.
100. I wish I went to church more. The intention is there, but the action isn’t.

Bonus:

101. When I was younger and my brother had friends over, I used to wander around naked. My mother has a picture of me wearing nothing but a santa hat and a smile at my brother's eighth birthday party.

Could a weekend that was everything I hadn’t hoped it would be get capped off by a super great, one-of-a-kind, last-minute double date? Count the adjectives and cringe. I dare you.

My dad came down to visit on Friday – his first visit since my move to the Cities. We stayed at the hotel on Friday and Saturday, free of charge thanks to the boss man. I think we made up for the complimentary room nights by the amount of money we spent in the bar, however.

I had three big plans for when my dad came. Well, they weren’t BIG plans, but they were plans. We were going to go to Timber Lodge Steakhouse, since he’s never been there, we were going to go mini-golfing, and we were going to the fair.

Strike one: Timber Lodge opens at three and we NEEDED to eat at noon. No Timber Lodge for us.

Strike two: Rain as SOON as we stepped out of the truck at the mini golf course.

Strike three: Pouring rain at the fair, restricting us from doing much of anything (because shit don’t melt, but gosh darn it, we would!)

Doing a face plant on the way back to the dugout: Returning to the University of Minnesota parking lot and realizing we couldn’t find the truck. We giggled as it poured and we wandered through the lot, saying, “Dad, try the panic button now!”

The weekend was highlighted by my sister flirting with the bellman, watching hookers go into the hotel across the streets with their pimp slipping their bellman a little somethin’ somethin’ (money…that means money), a dozen potatoes (pillows…that means pillows), Cold Stone, and gossip from back home.

Today my dad and I look the light rail to the Mall of America and people-watched for a bit. Then we ate Subway and he brought me home and he went back to Tower. I’m sad that out weekend together is gone, but I think he would have gone crazy had he spent another hour in downtown Minneapolis.

I'm still sore from the sales retreat earlier this week. I got very drunk and danced very much with my co-workers. Those kids sure know hot to have fun and, if I haven't mentioned this in the past three posts, I love my job!

Tonight Darren and I are going on a double date with my sister and one of his co-workers. Angie plans on getting drunk and Brian plans on getting laid, so I look to the evening with great anticipation.

Did I mention my sister is moving to Duluth? Yes, 60 percent of my family now works for St. Louis County. That’s more than half. Sixty percent is still failing, but just barely. And if wouldn’t be failing if you were graded on a curve. Anyway, way to go, Ang!