All Mediocre Things Must Come to an End

I am ending this blog. I know, I know, but we all knew this was going to happen sooner or later. I still blog elsewhere. I am considering going back to blogging/writing in the future, but for right now, I am going to concentrate on finishing this last year of school and working on my masters. I still own an internet store that needs managing, and I work full time. It's a wonder I EVER wrote on this thing, frankly.

If you still want to be connected to me, I suggest finding me and friending me on Facebook. I am still on Twitter, and I am on Google Plus (I would link to that, but I think facebook and twitter will be my main two stomping grounds.) 

I probably will keep the domain name, and I will probably still post on here every once in a great while. I wanted to say thank you to everyone for supporting me through my blog, through the community garden, through my prison reform campaign, through life. I appreciated every comment I received, every link, every email. 

I'll be back next year, you know it, I know it, we all know it. But for now. 

Good-bye and thanks for all the porkchops!

You Have Come to the Wrong Place

Dude, this is the internet, if you can't find proper smut like a normal human being we are going to be forced to ask you to leave. 

Also, have I ever written about this? No? That's what I thought. 

I Think, Therefore I Do Not Get Punched In The Ovaries

I am a sucker for buying children presents, especially when it isn't a present-centered occasion. Now that almost all my friends have children, this means I am buying a lot of presents for no reason whatsoever. As a result, I now limit my purchases to $10 per kid for these any-occasion presents.

The other day, I was out shopping for a 5 year-old and a 9 year-old, and I came upon the fishing section. "Came upon" isn't the right wordage. Ran full speed to that section and used the cart as a riding toy by running and getting it up to the proper speed and then hopping on and yelling "whee!" while the wind blew in my hair is probably more proper wordage.

I adore the fishing section of stores. Fishing is the greatest thing ever. EVER. I do not possess the vocabulary to tell you why fishing is so awesome, so I will let Ron Swanson tell you for me:

I wander down the fishing aisle, look at a bunch of rods and reels (not a euphemism, I genuinely did this) and then came upon something so wonderful, something so magical, it almost appeared to glow:

AIR HORNS

For some reason, I thought this was the greatest gift ever for a couple of little boys. So I put about 14 of them in my cart. See, I had already spent about $6 on candy for them. CANDY AND AIR HORNS = the perfect gift in my eyes.

I got to the checkout, started to unload my cart, and looked up at the checkout woman. She was looking at me with a look that said "She's too fat to be on meth, but CLEARLY a woman who has a cart full of nothing but candy and air horns is on drugs."

And that's about when my common sense came back to me. There is absolutely no reason whatsoever to buy children of any age air horns. I am not sure where my brain went when I originally threw them in the cart, I hope it had a nice vacation.

I guess what I am trying to say is if I ever bring your child a gift, just check it first, because there is no assurance that my brain is on vacation or not.

Sick Day

Am I the only one who sits around watching thirtysomething and Misfits when sick? Yes? Okay then.

I Never Left 5th Grade

I have a serious thing for small, food-shaped erasers.

Summertime

Naps in the grass on lunch are the very best.

Skin shrapnel

Eric has peeling skin lately because he was badly sunburned over the fourth of July weekend. (Truth be told, so was I.) When my skin peels after a burn, it comes off in one giant sheet. I literally peeled off my entire left arm skin in almost one piece while screaming at Eric that he should get the camera so I can show my grandkids this awesomely gross event someday. He declined, compared it to the Hindenburg, and dry heaved a couple of times.

When he started peeling, his skin comes off in these little whispy flakes. And it is everywhere.

The day after he started peeling (aka molting) I went to work, sat down at my chair, and felt something fuse with my eye. A flake of sunburned skin got stuck on my clothes, and then floated up and SLOOP make a film over my eye. It took me an hour to get it all out of my eye.

When I got home, I decided to lie in wait for Eric to relax, unwind, and start reading. I stalked him from the bedroom, loofa in hand, and sprung at the first opportunity.

Apparently getting your sunburned skin loofa'd is painful and also like the Hindenburg because he just yelled "oh the humanity!" While I was loofaing.