I almost bought pepper spray today. I like to trust humans as a general rule, but you just never know what could happen... which is the precise reason I decided to stop going on runs with a creme brulee torch as a weapon. I set out tonight (while it was still light out) and ran to Big Lots (don't you dare judge me) where I whispered (twice) to an employee, enquiring if they had any pepper spray. I didn't want any weirdos to become aware of my lack of ammunition. We found some. It was $10. Seeing as how I've never been a mace purchaser I was not ready for this. So I set off into the pits of the store to find something else I could use as a weapon. Three minutes later I came upon this:
It is what is know in some cultures as a three-foot long, glass vase. And I could totally take some creeper out with it. Also, it was $3. So, I made my purchase, and headed back out to finish my jog. One Lady GaGa song later, I came upon these:
which took my embarrassingly labored breath away and which also may or may not have been growing in a stranger's yard. In my defense, it was a disaster zone. Unkempt to the utmost degree. And in all honesty, and at least 50% probability, these were weeds, because a) there were a million of them and b) when I pulled them out of the ground they were attached to what looked like giant onions. (Please don't comment and say, "Um, they're called bulbs" because, "Um... I don't really even know what that means.") As people with furrowed brows passed by and as I checked the lit windows of the residence I was felonizing for signs of life, I tested out some excuses in case I was caught, such as "You're welcome for weeding your lawn for you" and "Que? No hablo...me no speaking the English. Ole." Things got tricky when I tried to break off the onion-bulbs from the base of the stems. They were not cooperative. So using my God-given resourcefulness I bit them off one by one, again, just waving to passers by as if this is how I weed "my" lawn all the time. I then ran home with the satisfaction one can only get from committing a crime and getting away with it. Me and O.J...we get it.
BUT... every morning when I wake up I think, "Wait, let's snooze a couple of times (8-12)," and then when my snooze goes off for the last time (5 pm-ish) I think to myself, "I want to paint my car like this one. Then I remember how I also sometimes like to pretend I'm a spy and how us spies are slaves to our anonymity and how this may or may not cause problems with being caught. Sigh. Also, I would like this bag please. And what the hoo-ha... let's throw being British in there as well.
Ahoy. Dear people who don't read this blog anymore due to my somewhat *cough* lack of diligence in the past 14 *cough* months...? Apologies. I know you aren't coming back, but that is in fact fine news and here is why. Hmmm...hold please. I must start at the beginning.
My mom told me to start blogging again. Seeing as how I am the perfect child and always do what my mother tells me, I naturally started penciling it into my schedule, but it's a tight fit with the naps and 30 Rock obsession. Still, I go to great lengths for that woman.
Our transcript reads as follows:
Mom: Start blogging again.
Kristen: Because the whole world started blogging and I feel pressure to read everyone's blogs and due to the all or nothing brain you gave me I have to choose nothing.
Mom: Really? That's why?
Kristen: Isn't that a good enough reason?
Mom: ....awkward silence....
Kristen: Also I spent most of the day talking to myself in my head (and occasionally slash accidentally out loud) deciding how best to write about what I was doing instead of just enjoying it.
Mom: You should blog.
So... I'm back. But not for you... sorry. Hold please. Does that sound cocky? Unintentional. I'm just back for me and my thoughts and my momma. Cause I love love la-hooove her ducks.
When I was a senior in high school I took a sewing class...no doubt to fill one of those purposeless artsy credit requirements set up by school board directors nationwide in an attempt to "well-roundify" their student populations. Do pardon me, but if a human does not wish to be an artist, the artwork you force he or she to produce will only inflict (perhaps significant) damage upon the other, (perhaps more agreeable) inhabitants of the planet. But this is neither here nor there.
When I was a senior in high school I took a sewing class. I was assigned a machine station betwixt two lovely girls of latin decent. (Allow me to interject that I have absolutely nothing against hispanic culture nor it's community members. I love them. Almost all of them.) On my right sat Katrina, on my left Anna. (Names have been changed for protection. Even though they don't deserve it.) Throughout an entire semester these two "chicas" spent every B3 period making fun of me in their native tongue of Espanol. "Oh my gosh...this girl sucks at sewing." "Are those the same jeans she wore last week?" "Ay Caramba! Esta muchacha no puedo aser nada! Ole!" etc. etc. All very biting comments as you can see. I bode my time as patiently as an emperor penguin in Artarctica during the 4 bitter winter months it spends fighting for not only his own life, but the life of it's soon to be infant emperor penguin, as the mother leaves to find food and stuff herself silly on a variety of fish so that after making the months long trek back to her little family she can regurgitate said fish into her new infants mouth and save it from starvation, thus forming a truly secure mother-child bond. That patiently. During the last week of the term Katrina turned to Anna and asked her in Spanish, "Anna, when is our portfolio due?" I turned to her calmly and said, "Next Thursday." I then proceeded to shrug my shoulders, smile slightly to myself and send a quick silent thank you into the sky to all of my former Spanish Immersion teachers. Love you Sra. Ware. The looks on their faces were oh so priceless, and not unlike the look J.D. so frequently dons after Dr. Cox calls him Shirley and puts him in his place with an incandescent rant. Sigh. Also perhaps not unlike the face you now wear after reading this post. My best to you. In summary... I still think I want to be a spy when I grow up. I'd be radder than rad at spying. I'm so good at being patient and lying. And also staying on task without straying through useless tangents.
I would be the most awesome inventor if people would just stop coming up with my ideas before me.
Example number one: Three years ago during a swimming phase I went through, I decided that if runners got music, I deserved some too. This spawned my endeavor to invent the underwater ipod. Unfortunately, some turd beat me to it. (uh...*whisper* but thank you for my underwater ipod).
Example number two: Today I was sitting here in deep thought when all of the sudden brilliance struck me once again. "Hey!" I proclaimed, "Wouldn't it be rad to hang a fishbowl on the wall?! And stick a real fish in it?!" Guess what?.... *Sigh* Jerks. But I still want one. Although, do you think this fish lives in a constant state of terror/confusion?
Not to flatter myself, well actually...that is the reason I wrote the post....so yes, in order to flatter myself, I will simply tell you that these examples of things I invented without due credit could go on all night. Color isolation on cameras...floating trampolines... internet on phones... cake flavored ice cream (which certainly sits at the top of the list)...zip on-zip off shorts/pants (not so proud of that one)... were all thought up by the brain of yours truly. Just not at the opportune moment.
I will have you all know, however, that the armpit-lawnmower-sprinkler-face dance move remains a Kristen Muirhead original. Well, I may or may not have had a little help from Vanessa....the 5 year-old.
I have 4 very important orders of business to discuss.
1. I hate showering, this is a well known fact. I REALLY REALLY hate it, I'm talking to a loathing degree. But want to know what I hate even more? I knew you would. It's washing my hair. All truth must be confessed at some point, why not now? So, there you have it. The reasons why I commonly reek of and asian food and oil (please avoid being misled and make sure to separate those two. Asian Food. Oil. Not Asian Food and Asian Oil). 2. You know the song "Chasing Pavements" by a one Adele? It has very recently come to my attention that this bit of music is not in fact entitled "Chasing Penguins"... ahem.... And all this time I just thought the laughter from others, whilst I sang along came from the common mocking of such a ridiculous notion. Now I can see the unfortunateness in my all too common response of "I know! What a crazy song! They must be running out of ideas...penguins....pah! (yes I 'pah!' quite frequently)." And let's be truthful, if it really came down to just giving up or chasing penguins, the choice is obvious, no? Need we sing about it? 3. After watching V for Vendetta last night I think it is safe to say that if the need should ever arise for me to have a girl crush it would most definitely have to be on Natalie Portman. Here's to your brilliance. And baldness. 4. My mother is conspiring to start a blog for the sole purpose of posting humiliating quotes which seem to escape my mouth multiple times a day. Boycott this with a vengeance.
Yes, this is coming late. I am aware of my behind the times-ness, okay?
I would like to personally thank whomever the human being was who finally said, "Down with this madness!" and released the draft of the final book in the Twilight series and saved the world from it's own stupidity and yet another literature calamity of epic proportions. Bless your soul forever and ever and may the sun shine down upon you in all the days to come. I can truly say with full conviction that you do not suck.
And speaking of literature and things that don't suck.... (weird, what are the odds that would work so well here?).... go to your nearest bookstore/library and buy/borrow THE FOUNTAINHEAD. It's by Ayn Rand and....(hmm, how weird and fortuitous)....she also doesn't suck.
I played with Mer's boys again for a little bit today. This was a highlight from craft time:
Cam (age 5): Kai, don't eat those purple beads or you'll turn purple! Kai (age 3): What? Cam: I'm just teasin' ya. But seriously Kai, don't eat the brown ones. Kai: Why? Cam: Cause you'll turn brown. I don't know how exactly it happens, but I've seen brown people before.