Rachelskirts

Rachelskirts

I love a well-placed semicolon.

Cincinnati, OH
653 posts

Fool of a Took

From birth, fingernail clippers are sensitive creatures. They arrive in stocking stuffers on Christmas morning, disguised as riders in black. Each family member receives a pair, which he or she uses for maintenance purposes after several hours of opening wrapped gifts. After this initial bonding ritual, the clippers are left on bedroom floors to be stepped on while the new toys and goodies receive days and weeks of praise and adoration. Feeling neglected and unloved, the fingernail clippers inch their way toward the suitcases in the basement, their absence undetected until the arrival of Señor Hangnail. When this villain appears, the family members cry out in distress. But the fingernail clippers refuse to return. Instead, they burrow deep into the tunnels of the Misty Mountains, stashing themselves in secret pockets of your carry-on luggage, waiting to jump into the loving hands of the airport security guard, who then whisks the orphaned instruments away to safety, tucking them into their little matchstick box beds and singing them to sleep. Meanwhile, you are labeled a disturber of the peace and are sentenced to two hangnails a month for eleventy-one years. Fool of a Took.

Note: While watching Lord of the Rings is a proven distraction from hangnails for some, side effects may include crazy blog entries, spontaneous quoting, and an overwhelming desire to kiss Frodo Baggins. Please consult your doctor before trying this at home. It is probably safer to just buy another pair of fingernail clippers.

Spinach Popsicles for Everyone

The school cafeteria is an inviting oasis for a wild assortment of characters. Thus far, I have witnessed a young man recording thirty minutes of community college-themed rap at his laptop, a herd of forty-year-old women doing aerobics in the smaller dining room, and one shy girl awkwardly asking an intimidatingly cute boy to open her peach pear soda for her because the lid was glued on by Billy Mays himself. (I have since taken to pre-opening my drinks at home.)

Seeing that my boss is on vacation for the next week, I am very tempted to ditch work tomorrow to spend a full day people-watching while reviewing all items listed on the dessert menu. Anyone want to volunteer to be my assistant?

P.S. While typing this entry, I suddenly remembered the entirety of "Popeye the Sailor Meets Ali Baba's Forty Thieves" in startling detail. Popeye was one of the few shows I was allowed to watch while I was growing up, and I must have watched a lot of it. Along the way, I somehow managed to associate oases with cartoon mirages — shimmering images of desirable things floating in the desert. But forget deserts; I'm back to thinking about desserts. Who wants ice cream?

Second Is the Best

According to the rhyme, first is the worst, second is the best, and third is the one with the hairy chest. Or the treasure chest or the wedding dress or the argyle vest.

Whatever. Point: this rhyme is utter crap.

I am the firstborn in my family, so I can assure you that I am not at all the worst. SuperSanko, I am sorry, but you are not the best. Furthermore, February is the second month. AND IT HAS NOT BEEN THE BEST.

On February 4, 2009, I had to part with the sweetest cat that has ever walked this planet. I have never cried so much or so hard in my entire life. Just thinking about it has me in tears again, which is why I haven't taken the time to put together a proper entry about the situation yet. The short story is that his kidneys and liver shut down, and none of us expected that diagnosis. I was in the middle of writing a literary analysis on Kate Chopin's short stories when I got the news from my mom, and suddenly I was holding my cat and being told to say goodbye. The purring ball of fur in my lap had been with me for fourteen of my twenty-three years, longer than most humans I know, and . . . I'll just wrap up by saying that Carmel has been sorely missed.

I went to work the next morning, and after a terrible first five minutes, I was hugged and coffee-ed and dinosaured by loving coworkers who apparently know just how to cheer me up.

Then, I found out that the release of Sims 3 has been pushed back from now until June. Not the worst news ever, I agree, but not what I wanted to hear.

I was all set to feel sorry for myself, but the internet just wouldn't hear of it. Justin Cox sent me a message on Twitter saying that ELIJAH WOOD, MY ONE TRUE LOVE has a Twitter account now. Yes, it's true. Yes, it's really him. Yes, I hyperventilated and immediately started following him. Yes, it then dawned on me that I write an awful lot of corny things about Elijah Wood on Twitter that he probably wouldn't ever want to see. Paaanic everywhere but the disco.

But I didn't even have time to kick myself for long. My dad announced the next night that the Field Museum is opening a pirate exhibit! And then the sun came out and warmed up the whole Chicagoland area to a balmy sixty degrees! And then I signed up for the 20SB Ultimate Meetup! And then I found out that my family reunion ends the day before the BlogHer Conference, meaning I can actually attend and meet all my favorite bloggers who aren't twenty-something! And then I celebrated 1234567890 Day!

Just when I thought I was going to run out of exclamation points, I got a text message from my wonderful friend, Sexy Beast. "Check your mail after 3pm." The last time he sent that kind of message, I wound up with a whole bunch of stuff that put a huge smile on my wrinkly, old, cat lady face and warmed my cold, dead, pirate heart. I'm pretty sure he's the most thoughtful guy on the planet, so don't ask me how I got lucky enough to score him as one of my bestest friends.

Anyway, here's what he sent this time:

Happy Valentine's Day!
Happy Valentine's Day! | Flickr
Om nom nom
Om nom nom | Flickr

Behold: personalized M&M's that say "Rachelskirts" and "Sexy Pirate" (in scrambled text because M&M's couldn't handle the word "sexy" on their candy). I sigh happily every time I even look at these pictures.

All in all, I guess the month just got off to a really rough start, but my friends — both online and off — have been doing a stellar job cheering me up. I might have experienced some of the worst, but I've definitely seen some of the best, too.

Thanks for that, my pretties.

P.S. Yeah, sorry for the hastily edited video with the missing subtitle and the proportion-squishing rotation going on.

P.P.S. Okay, fine. SuperSanko is the best little brother, but he most certainly is not the best Guitar Hero player in this household. Bwa ha ha.