Category: Drew


I have been sitting on my ass all day.

It’s a little hard since I have a bruise the size of my palm on my right ass cheek and it hurts really bad.

I’m sure you’re wondering why there’s a giant bruise on my butt. Well, dear readers, today is your lucky day.  I’ll tell you.

Last night, there was a mini-bar crawl kind of thing that went down in EL for Sully’s 21st birthday.  Everything was going well, except there were a couple times when I wished I was wearing different shoes.

The first instance was when Seneca and I went to the bathroom.  There was a part of the tile floor missing, creating a little lake of mysterious liquid.  My basically naked foot ended up in said lake.  That’ll teach me to wear flip flops.

Before I tell you the second time I really wished I was wearing different shoes I need to preface it with this question. Have you ever been walking on a wet surface while wearing flip flops? Have you ever had that moment of panic that comes when you feel your feet slide because the wet surface and the poor traction of the flip flop?

I promise that this injury had nothing to do with the level of intoxication. It has everything to do with the fact that flip flops fail in the face of liquid.

When I jumped down from a ledge that I happened to be standing/dancing on, I bit it.

My flip flops hit the water/beer/liquor/mixed drink wet spot and my feet flew out from under me.  There was nothing I could do.  I slid into my brother’s friend, slammed my ass on the ledge and scraped the hell out of my elbow.

I couldn’t decide what hurt more: my pride or my body.

The verdict: my body.

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Since I started blogging, almost a whole year ago, there as not been one day that I have missed.  Every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday, like clockwork, I have showed up and put something out there for someone, anyone, to read.

Yesterday, for the first time in almost a year, I went AWOL.

I just didn’t show up.

So, for you who were waiting with bated breath, I apologize. Similarly, if you were worried I had died or had been sucked up by my chest (please reference Dane Cook) by aliens, I’m glad to inform you I am just fine.

What happened is that I actually just got swept up in the long, holiday weekend and forgot it was Sunday.

In fact, this weekend is a whirlwind of activity.

I showed up to my dad’s house ready for a weekend of drunken debauchery with friends and family by the pool in his backyard. But what actually happened was that I arrived at the restaurant for dinner like an hour later than I had originally told everyone I would be in town. Only, after I arrived, I promptly informed my dad that I felt like I was going to throw up and then I peace’d out.  I went back to the house where I found a bathroom just in time to puke my guts out. After throwing up nothing but water and bile (and oh yeah, those two or three Advil I took on an empty stomach- I’m an idiot), I ate exactly two and a half saltine crackers and fell asleep for an hour. When I woke up, everyone was arriving back home, with the food I had ordered in hand.

After that, Seneca and I went to bed early and watched some Forensic Files.

Saturday was even more of a blur.  The day lasted for-fucking-ever.

In a nutshell, the rest of the weekend happened as follows: I probably caught cancer from this shady-as-fuck restaurant called Hibachi Sushi Buffet (it was not my choice), hit my face against the bottom of the pool,  actually won a couple rounds of flip-cup, my computer died/broke, we ate our weight in pulled pork sandwiches, Megan accidentally dumped her almost-entirely-full drink in my lap at the bar we went to, Drew and I got into a physical altercation, Megan walked out at 2am with no word to Seneca or myself, both Seneca and I ended up in tears at some point, made weird references to Hilary Duff for no reason, saw Hangover II, and when we were alerted of bad weather we played a rousing game of Life where I pretended I found out I’m barren and will never bear children(LOL), we also watched a fuck-ton of Lifetime (yeah, including William & Kate, the movie), I quoted William Shakespeare to Seneca in a normal conversation, and I fell in the lake again tonight while trying to get in the kayak.

WINS ALL AROUND.

I promise things will go back to normal.

My emotions are all over the place lately.

I mean, it’s a well known fact that I cry at the drop of a hat, but it’s getting a little crazy.

I think the looming end of Harry Potter is to blame. Honestly.

For the past few months, I have been listening to the Harry Potter audiobooks from the very beginning of the series. I am finally a little over half-way through the seventh book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, but it’s been a long road.  I’m just so invested in them and I’m going to be really sad once the last movie comes out and ends it all. I know that the books and movies will live on, but for the past ten years, it’s like I have had either a book or a movie to look forward to. It’s all just going to be over.

(Oh hey, Melodramatic-Katie. I didn’t know you were going to be here today!)

The thing is… since I’ve been breathing Harry Potter for the past few months, my mind is pretty much saturated with Harry Potter information. I use Harry Potter references in my everyday conversations. I’m not mad about this at all, but I think it concerns others, or just leaves them feeling confused. (And I really wouldn’t consider this an unhealthy addiction or obsession or anything, seriously.  I mean, I know someone who is inappropriately obsessed with something of late and I am nowhere near her level of insanity. I just wanted to make that clear… lol.)

Back to my emotions… I promise all of this is relevant.

I do, however, want to preface this example of out-of-control emotions with the fact that I happened to be intoxicated when this event occurred and that this might not count.  So, a few weeks ago, my brother and I had some people over to his house to hang out (and then The Tripod left to go to the bars- you know how we do.) and get crazy. Right before we left, I’m actually not sure what triggered this but whatever, we ended up shouting curses and jinxes at each other. Like, we were having our very own wizard’s duel.  It started between the two other legs of the tripod and myself but then Drew got involved.  Right when I was about to shout Expelliarmus at him, he hurled Aveda Kedavra at me.  It was at that moment that I burst into tears and the duel ended.

Megan stared at us in incredulity while Seneca watched in awe as Drew quickly showed remorse for yelling the Killing Curse my way.  He wrapped me in a hug and told me that he didn’t mean it and that he loved me.  It got serious.  I had immediately told him that it wasn’t nice to kill me and that I would absolutely die if anything ever happened to him and that he should never use that curse, ever.

It was ridiculous, to say the very least. But, every time I think about it, I laugh. It’s funny and cute and kind of a heartwarming moment between him and me.

A couple weeks ago, I was driving home from work and it happened to coincide with the time (Oh Em Gee, Spoiler Alert) Dumbledore dies near the end of HP6, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.  It also happened to be after a particularly long day of work when I was still very sick and I was exhausted.  So, naturally, when JKR begins her description of the grief expressed by all of the characters in the book, I began to weep as well. Once it started, I couldn’t stop.  I was bawling my eyes out the entire forty-five minutes it takes for me to get home from work.  By the time I got home, my face was red and puffy, I no longer had any eye makeup on, and I was doing that weird hiccup-breathing from the heaving sobs that had flowed out of me.

And just yesterday, I was driving home from work when (SPOILER ALERT) Dobby died.  I sob uncontrollably when I watch the movie (EVERY SINGLE TIME), so it’s no surprise that the book brought me to tears.  The grief Harry experiences, the burial, the words Luna says on his behalf… I just think all of it is so precious and heartbreaking.  Dobby was so pure of heart and an innocent, and the loss of his life is a travesty. Bellatrix Lestrange sucks, and I hate her.

It just seems like I’m always in my car when I’m having these emotional events.

This has got to stop! Except, I never want it to because that would require me to not listen to Harry Potter in my car, and I just don’t want to stop doing that. It makes my commute enjoyable.

Anyway, I guess my point is that I never would have guessed I would have gotten so involved in the series when I first picked up Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.  Not in a million years.  Even upon seeing the first film, I never thought I would feel such an affinity towards these characters and this world J.K. Rowling created. I just don’t know what I’ll do when it’s all over. Maybe once it’s over I won’t be so weepy about all things Harry Potter. Probably not, though.

Does anyone else feel this way about Harry Potter?! I know I can’t be alone in this.

I have a problem with roadkill.

At 23, I should probably not think of wild animals in terms of Disney creatures that have homes and families and feelings. I know it seems ridiculous, but I just can’t help it. In my head, I only see Bambi’s mom, or the Beaver family from the Chronicles of Narnia, or Simba and how he ran away from Pride Rock after Mufasa’s death. These poor animals have others counting on them; they have responsibilities and a family to come home to.

When I see a raccoon’s guts splayed on the side of the road or a deer laying broken on the shoulder, my heart breaks.

On my way to work last week, I burst into tears when I saw a black cat squished in the middle of the road.  I cried for the little girl who loved that cat with her whole heart, I cried for the other kitty cat friends that Blackie had, and I cried for the person who hit the kitty and killed it.

It’s so sad to me and I can’t help but be really, really upset by it.

I hoped that I had hit my quota for roadkill for the week, but it seems that the universe had other plans. Yesterday, I experienced the most traumatizing roadkill event to date. I probably won’t tell it right or be able to express how deeply upset I was by this, but I’m going to try.

I was driving to meet my brother for dinner when this occurred.  I was driving happily, listening to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on CD, and I was halfway to my destination.  Just as I was picking up my phone from the passenger’s seat of my car to call Drew to ask him where he wanted to go for dinner, it happened.

By chance, I happened to notice a deer on the shoulder of the highway.  I can’t remember now what it was that made me come to this conclusion, but something told me that something wasn’t right about this deer. For one, it was not dead.  I could see its eyes and they were wide open.  Then, all of a sudden, it was picking itself up off the pavement, only it wasn’t going as it should have.

It all happened pretty fast, and I was driving as I was watching this, but I did see enough to be traumatized.

Poor Deery was having trouble standing up and I could tell that something was very wrong with her (I’m assuming?) hindquarters.  Deery couldn’t put any weight on her back legs. She began dragging her back legs as she tried to get away from the highway and the cars driving so fast past her. I had passed her and my vision was blurry with hot tears when I had dialed Drew via speed-dial on my phone.  By the time he picked up the phone, I was in the throes of a full-blown grief-meltdown.

What was so upsetting to me was that I did not see any vehicle near her that looked like it had been hit by a dear.  I didn’t see anyone around other than me and the other cars driving past this suffering animal. I couldn’t understand how someone could hit a deer and leave it to die in such a painful and agonizing way. The fact that where she had been hit was on top of a hill worried me.  Without the ability to use her back legs, how was she to navigate that hill to get back into the wooded safe haven? I think about it now and my heart hurts. I imagine that she fell down the hill and lay at the bottom, wishing to die because of the pain.  It is terrible, but I would have preferred someone shot her or something, to put her out of her misery.  It isn’t fair.

I explained what happened to Drew through thick sobs. He laughed at me.

After crying my eyes out and having him listen to me wail wordlessly, I tried to change the subject. He didn’t because he probably didn’t want to seem insensitive since I was so obviously upset. He’s such a good brother.

When I finally got the words out to ask him where we should go to dinner, he replied, “Well there’s this new venison place…”

That’s when a sob escaped and I hung up on him. I grabbed a mostly clean napkin off the passenger seat and wiped my eyes and blew my nose.

He called back.

“That wasn’t nice,” I cried.

He was joking and he was trying to make me laugh, but I wasn’t ready yet.  So I cried on the phone some more, cursed society and contemplated calling the police (or ANYBODY!) to have them come rescue Deery (or at least end her suffering).

I didn’t call the police, but I haven’t been able to get the image of that poor deer dragging its back legs out of my head.

I just can’t handle roadkill. It really hurts my heart.

Here is what I have learned about success:

It’s all about managing expectations.

For example, I try to go first whenever I can when giving presentations in class.  That way, no matter how ill-prepared I may be or how often I fumble over my words or even how lame my powerpoint presentation really is, there is no one to compare it to yet.  Going first allows the presenter to set the expectations for the rest of the presentations and is the one that the rest are measured against.

If I can help it, I never, ever go last.  Going last is simply not an option.  I’m not that much of a douche bag that I will email my professor ahead of time and insist on going first, but I definitely try to be that person that is like, “Oh, yeah, no big deal, I’ll go first if no one else wants to.” You know, all nonchalant.  And when someone else is like “Oh, I want to go first!” (because that always happens- there are always other freaks like me who want to set the bar low) I’m always like *Hulk’d up* NO I’M GOING FIRST, YOU IDIOT FUCK!

Just kidding, I don’t turn green, grow three times my regular size, or bust out of my white (??) shirt and purple pants.  I don’t even shout at my classmates. I simply keep it real and let everyone know what’s up: I must go first.

In life, I finally learned to be that kid at a birthday party to have her gift opened first.  There were far too many times I tried to be that girl whose present was so good it had to be saved for last. You know, that whole save the best for last bullshit.  But what parents don’t tell you and what you learn after birthday party after birthday party is that it sucks when someone else gives the same gift as you- or worse, someone gives a better present than yours.  That is a situation that takes you on a bullet train to Sucktown.

The best time to give your gift is first.  That way, you have the best gift of the day, even if it’s just for a moment.  That’s a moment you can’t get back. And, that way, if there is a duplicate gift situation, you don’t look like a dickhole and you don’t have to sit in the corner and cry because someone gave the same gift you did.  You can know that you have won. (Because winning is really all that matters- ask Charlie Sheen.)

At work, you have to manage expectations too. If you do something really impressive one day that is something that is expected to be repeated, you better believe that you have just set a precedent.  You will be held to that standard from now on.  That is totally fine if you don’t mind working your butt off to constantly exceed expectations and/or consistently perform at a high level.  But if you’re lazy as fuck and it was done on a fluke, then you’re pretty much up Chocolate Creek without a popsicle stick. If you’re lazy as fuck at work and really just want to do the least amount of work as possible, then you should never do anything more than what is expected of you. Because that is the kiss of death for you, and you can no longer be lazy as fuck.

I have finally realized that even dealing with some family drama, it all comes down to managing expectations.  Drew and I have tried (and failed at) the being-sneaky approach- that just ends in tears (including my own). We can’t just lie about our plans and spring them on a certain person at the last minute- a shitstorm of drama explodes out of seemingly nowhere.  We have also tried the let’s-be-really-vague-about-our-plans approach and that just ended in bitterness, shouting, resentment, anger, and, yes, you guessed it, tears (including my own).  Being vague has usually just resulted in having to lie (which we all know I am not good at) and/or just really awful family moments.

So, this time, we are trying the honesty-is-the-best-policy approach.  This approach includes telling both parties exactly what’s up and setting clear expectations for everyone involved. That way, when the time comes to leave, no one is surprised or upset.  I’m psyched about this.

Here’s hoping.

So, my friends, go forth and embrace this managing expectations lifestyle I have adopted.  Share with me your success stories. Or just stories about your childhood birthday parties. I would enjoy that as well.

I thought I would share with you, my friends, just a few things I am obsessed with lately.  I usually throw in, like, one or two examples in any given post, but I don’t see why I can’t just put the major ones in one place for you. You know, in case you want to be exactly like me and like all the same things I do.  If that’s the case, then, DUDE, it’s your lucky day!!

Dance Music

I’m obsessed with my itunes playlist for when I workout.  I add to it constantly and spent a lotttt of time putting songs that put me in the zone into one place.  There is nothing worse than sweating your butt off to Ke$ha’s “Blow” for the song to end and segue into a slow jam like “Not Like the Movies” by Katy Perry. Don’t get me wrong- I LOVE Katy Perry, but I cannot keep my heart rate up if a song with less than, like, 120 beats per minute.  I got some ideas from searching online for fitness playlists, and Shape Magazine’s website proved to be pretty helpful.  Another thing I did was use my library’s website to find mix CDs of songs I like that were remixed for “the club”- which means that a techno-y beat was added and they’re usually sped up quite a bit.

S&M Remix

This gets its own bullet point because it’s just THAT good.  As you can see from above, I’m currently listening to Rihanna’s S&M Remix with Britney Spears. Oh. My. Gawd. I cannot get enough.  I listen to it on repeat and can’t stop.

You must purchase it on itunes.  Don’t illegally download that shit. I don’t believe in it (when it’s an artist I like).

Harry Potter

I am sure I have probably shared this with you before, but I am rereading all of the Harry Potter books.  And by “rereading” I mean “listening to them on CD because I’m too lazy to actually read and I enjoy listening to books in the car since my drive to work is 40+ minutes.”

I’m currently listening to Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.  Every single day, I listen and I just can’t believe how amazing these books are. Every single day, I am amazed by how much I had forgotten. Every single day, I get angry that so much is cut from the movies.  Every single day, I send angry text messages to Drew about that fact. Every single day, I try to work in Harry Potter vocabulary into my everyday lexicon.  For example, I used the following sentence today:

“Ohhh it makes me want to crucio the movie makers!”

See? I would totally unforgivable-curse the shit out of the powers that be in Hollywood that decided that the Harry Potter movies shouldn’t be like 8 hours long and shouldn’t include all the awesome little details I love about the books.  No big deal.  A lifetime in Azkaban for using an unforgivable curse? I guess since it would benefit the greater good, I could take the fall for that one.

Ron + Hermione = ❤

Yeah, I’m a huge nerd.

I don’t care what you think of me but I think that the two of them are just adorable. If you ‘ship anything other than Ron/Hermione and Harry/Ginny, you’re retarded and we can’t be friends.  I mean, go ahead and do whatever you want, but know there will be consequences.

They’re just too adorable for words.

Love love love!!

The Office

I’ve been watching it on DVD lately and hate myself for not getting into it when it first aired back when I was just a baby in high school. Okay, so that’s obviously the reason I never got into it. That and I tend to jump on board to things way after the fact. Oh well.  All that matters is that I’ve seen the light and love it now.

I just finished the fifth season on DVD and now have to wait forever and ever for my library to let me watch season six, since I’m, like, 16 or 16 holds. No big deal, I’ll just watch it in four months. I’m not mad.

I should also mention this: subset of this obsession can be my love of Jim and Pam on the show and just my general adoration of John Krasinski.  He is a chunk of nerd-alert, awkward-face-making, man-sass sexiness.

That Emily Blunt is one lucky bitch.

Mmmkay, guys.  There are five of several hundred obsessions that I have.  Please make a note of these and brush up on these things.  That way we will have lots to talk about and you can truly begin your mission of becoming just like me, because I know that’s what you’re working towards in life.

Oh, ps. I’m also in a really good mood right now because I just took my final for class and now the hell that I endured for the past seven weeks is officially behind me. Win. Win. Win. (#charliesheen #winning)

If you haven’t seen The American President we can’t be friends.

I love it.

Maybe too much.

Drew is home this evening so we get to watch it together. Be still, my heart.

Something about watching this movie with Drew just makes it so much better.  We can basically recite this movie in its entirety and it’s more fun to do it with him than by myself.

I keep remembering how often lines from this movie pop into my head on an everyday basis.

Let me explain:

1.)    One year in school I remember that effigy was a vocab word we were tested on.  We needed to know the definition and how to use it.  Luckily, the America President was created before I took that vocab quiz.  I totally knew what effigy meant because this movie helped me understand its use.

Sydney, seldom does a day go by when I am not burned in effigy.

2.)    Every time I drive by a Volvo dealership (like I did today) or any time I see a Volvo, all I can hear is Annette Benning’s voice lobbying her butt off for the GDC as Sydney Ellen Wade.

Katie, ten years from now any cars with an internal combustion engine is gonna be considered a collector’s item.  Come on board, we’ll make your Volvo a classic.

3.)    Any time I interact with or find myself frustrated with someone who is less than coherent or someone I deem an idiot, I frequently pawn this gem off as my own when talking about this person behind his or her back (because I’m a bitch like that).

Lewis, we’ve had presidents who were beloved and couldn’t find a coherent sentence with two hands and a flashlight.  People don’t drink the sand ‘cause they’re thirsty, Lewis. They drink the sand because they don’t know the difference.

Note: I usually embellish this phrase. For example, blah blah blah can’t find *something* with a compass, a map and a flashlight.

4.)    Generally, at the start of every week, I can hear Michael Douglas’ voice telling me it’s Monday morning.  Sometimes Drew and I even text each other the line from the movie just to share in the moment and reference what I can easily say is our favorite movie. The delivery is so perfect.

Lewis: You skipped a whole paragraph!
President Shepherd: And Monday morning it is.

5.)    The best speech in this whole movie is something I actually quoted in an academic paper in college, well, part of it at least. In fact, I used it in a paper I wrote to proclaim my love of Hillary Clinton actually. I so would.

Everybody knows America isn’t easy.  America is advanced citizenship.  You gotta want it bad, ‘cause it’s gonna put up a fight.  It’s gonna say “you want free speech? Let’s see you acknowledge a man whose words make your blood boil, who’s standing center stage and avocating, at the top of his lungs, that which you would spend a lifetime opposing at the top of yours.  You want to claim this land as the land of the free? Then the symbol of your country can’t just be a flag; the symbol has to be one of its citizens exercising his right to burn that flag in protest.” Show me that, defend that, celebrate that in your classrooms. Then you can stand up and sing about the land of the free.

6.)    The events in Lybia actually made me wonder if President Obama has seen this movie.  Talk about Life imitating Art.  Dude.  Just watch it and you’ll totally know what I’m talking about.  In my head, I imagine that Obama took a move out of the Andrew Shepherd playbook.

Sweet baby Jesus, this is such a great movie.

Like I said, if you haven’t seen it, we can’t be friends until you do.  And once you watch this (and love it, obviously) you need to then become obsessed with The West Wing and watch the entire series on DVD because it’s basically a giant continuation of the awesomeness that is The American President.

That is all.

Oh, no, wait. One more thing. I’m also obsessed with this.

Okay. For real this time.

That is all.

I found a book in the study today that I was unaware that we owned. This is not really a difficult thing to achieve, as I have not actually taken an inventory of all the books we own.  But, you know, still. I found this random book and was surprised.

It’s kind of awesome actually, which makes me think this book belongs to Drew.

The tiny, weird-looking D’s throughout the book also make me think this book belongs to Drew, since his handwriting is super jank.

Or I could pretend that this book belongs to my very own version of The Half-Blood Prince.

This book is entitled 501 Things To Do If You DARE.

This book is obviously not mine. I don’t dare to do anything. I’m the biggest chicken-shit I know.

Let’s start off easy.  I’ll take a look at the very first thing to do if I dare.

Public Things: #1 Ride a Roller Coaster

Rating: One skull  & cross bones

For an added thrill, do it without holding onto the restraints.

There’s a small D written beside this one. The Half-Blood Prince is telling me he’s done this one. As have I. And I have done it with no hands, too. Who’s a badass now?!

#2 Drive an Autobahn

Rating: Four skull & cross bones.

A wide, well-maintained road with no speed limit? Mama, sign me up! In some places there are speed limits (and concessions made for conditions throughout), but it’s mainly a megafreeway with no restrictions on your lead-foot instinct.

Fuck no. I’m a terrible driver and don’t trust others. No thank you.

Oh, here’s one.  I jumped around to Athletic Things, located within the Public Things section.

#87 Go deep-sea fishing.

Rating: one skull & cross bones.

There is another D written by this one. The Half-Blood Prince is just a copy cat at this point.

I’m fairly certain that I have done this. I remember on one trip to Florida (with Dad and our first step-mom), we went fishing on this big-ass boat in the ocean. I remember having no form of excitement for this activity as 1.) I have no desire to fish; 2.) I don’t particularly enjoy the open sea; 3.) I suffer from extreme motion sickness.

I shit you not: I had to put my head between my knees and focus on my own breathing to avoid tossing my cookies in a planetarium. A PLANETARIUM. The stars were moving to fucking fast. Talk about middle school embarrassment. As if puberty and petty bitches weren’t enough to deal with in middle school. Ugh.

As far as the deep sea fishing adventure, all I can remember is feeling extremely sick, trapped on a giant boat in the middle of the ocean for hours. I remember getting sick and having my dad hold my hair back while everyone else had a grand old time fishing for sharks or whatever the fuck else lives in the ocean.  I also remember my step-mom telling me I was ruining our vacation by being sick on the boat during the fishing trip and how I was a whiney little brat in the car ride down to Florida because HI I HAVE MOTION SICKNESS AND BEING PACKED IN A VAN WITH FOUR OTHER KIDS SITTING BITCH NO LESS, A FUCKTON OF LUGGAGE AND MULTIPLE COOLERS WITH “SNACKS” WHILE THE WINDOWS ARE UP AND YOU SUCK DOWN YOUR CANCER STICKS IN THE FRONT SEAT AS WE WATCH COOL RUNNINGS AND 3 NINJAS* OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND EATING NOTHING BUT MCDONALDS FOR TWO DAYS AND HATING YOU AND EVERYTHING YOU ARE BECAUSE YOU’RE THE DEVIL AND YOU RUINED MY FAMILY BY BEING A BITCHY, INTRUDING HOME-WRECKING WHORE— uh, I guess I could stop there …

Awkward….

Anyway, where was I?

Yeah, motion sickness.

And I’m the life-ruiner??

* I was not mad at all about watching Cool Runnings and 3 Ninjas over and over again.

Finally, I looked at the very last thing to do if I dare. I thought it would be intense and exciting but it’s not. It doesn’t even bear a notation from the Half-Blood Prince.

#501 Drink some tea

Rating: one skull and cross bones

Dude. I drink vanilla chai tea all the time! It is my jam. Yummo. I have conquered #501!

Perhaps I should make some now to come down from that rage blackout you just witnessed…

I’ve been menstruating since, like, sixth grade. Blood coming out of my body is not necessarily a new thing.

But, um, that blood comes out of my vagina. And it’s regular, you know? Like, I can pretty much count on it.  And when I forget about it, I just have to remember the last time I cried in my bed for three days in a row for no particular reason (e.g. Drew uses the last of the milk on his second bowl of cereal Christmas morning; a stranger at Meijer gives me a dirty look; a Folgers Coffee commercial on TV) and I’ll realize that it’s about that time again.

But, this morning, when I realized that my body was gushing blood, I freaked the fuck out.

I do not like blood. I’d be, like, the worst vampire ever. It makes me queasy. Ever since Drew wrecked his face and I had to run from the neighbor’s house at age 5 (or something?) to tell our parents Drew’s lip was … not really on his face anymore, things just haven’t been okay for me and Blood. Even when it comes out of my vagina, I have to distance myself from it; I have to pretend it’s not really blood. Ugh. I have the willies just thinking about it.

Anyway, this gushing blood? It was not coming from my ladybox.

(Sorry I talked about my vagina, Drew.)

I can’t even tell you the last time I had a bloody nose.

Even though I’m clumsy as fuck and run into shit all the time, I haven’t hit my nose in a way that makes it bleed. When Drew chucked a tennis ball at my face, my nose didn’t bleed.

I wasn’t even participating in a strenuous activity. Nothing happened. There was no trauma to my face.

(This leads me to believe that something exploded in my brain and that I’m probably going to die.)

I was driving to work this morning, just driving along listening to Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone on CD when OUT OF NOWHERE my nose started gushing blood. Literally. I couldn’t get a Kleenex to my face fast enough. There was SO MUCH BLOOD. And it was everywhere.

I was so ill-equipped.  What, with the almost-empty, smashed-to-hell box of Kleenex I keep in my car, the fact I was driving at a barely-legal 78 miles an hour on I-96 at 8am, and OH YEAH I HAVE NEVER HAD A BLOODY NOSE AND ALL OF MY FIRST-AID TRAINING APPARENTLY FLEW OUT OF MY BRAIN IN A PANIC BECAUSE I DO NOT POSSESS GRACE UNDER FIRE.

My intention was that I would be able to stop at Starbucks or Beaners (fuck that, I refuse to call it Biggby) to grab a caramel macchiato or chai latte (respectively) and make it to work on time. Ohhhh, no. That did not happen, although I did pull into the Starbucks parking lot to try to stop the bleeding. To no avail.

I drove the rest of the way to work with a Kleenex shoved up my nose while I called my mother in a panic (she didn’t pick up; she doesn’t love me.) and machine gun-like sobs escaped from my lungs. I cried my way to work with a Kleenex shoved up my left nostril.

So attractive.

When I finally got to work, it looked like I had killed someone.

There was blood ALL OVER my scarf (the one Drew brought home for me from VIENNA!), my coat, the steering wheel in my car, my pants, both of my hands and all down my arms.

I was a fucking mess.

Seriously, that kid on youtube who got all upset about the blood? You know what I’m talking about: BLOOD?! NOT FUNNYYYYYYY!!! He was fucking right.

I even opened the first aid kit I keep in my car for sanitizing wipes to wipe all of the blood off of my hands and the steering wheel.  It only kinda worked, though, because the first aid kit is kinda old and it has been sitting in my car for a while so the wet-wipe thing I used was dried out.  So, mostly, I dumped a fuck-ton of antibacterial hand gel everywhere and wiped with the not-wet-at-all wet-wipe (because I DIDN’T HAVE ANYMORE KLEENEX LEFT!). Things didn’t really work out for me this morning as I was self-conscious about my bloody-ness all day long.

Here’s the silver lining though: at least this didn’t happen on a Monday. My whole week would have been fucked.

(OMG I can’t believe I’m even about to say this- because it’s terrible and very, very offensive, but oh well I’m going to anyway…) All I could think of, though, through the whole ordeal: If I had The HIV, this would be a nightmare. And if I was a hemophiliac, I would be so fucked right now.

I don’t usually remember my dreams.

But sometimes I do.

And I have noticed a pattern to it.

The only dreams I remember are the ones where I’m about to die.

I just can't look at it the same way....

Like that time I dreamt that my house was being broken into and explosions were going off and there was a hostage situation. Or that time I dreamt that a man lived down the street had lured me into his creepy-as-fuck house only for me to find my loved ones and close, beloved family friends all dead, hanging like marionettes (read: *NSYNC-style) in boxes in his giant living room and him chasing me around his property with a sawed-off shotgun and machete. Or that time I dreamt I was being locked in some type of school gymnasium with a fuck-ton of people because wherever the hell we were was on “lockdown” and we were all safe in the gym but then some man told us we have “two minutes to get out because this place is gonna blow the fuck up” and I woke up in a panic.

 

SEE?! This is not okay!!

I woke up this morning and my face was wet and I couldn’t breathe.

I woke up and realized I had been crying in my sleep.

This time was different. I wasn’t dreaming I was dying or about to die. I dreamt that Drew had died.

Why the fuck?! WHY?!

Do you know how disturbing that was?!

That’s my baby brother. That cannot happen. Ever. He can never die.

I was a mess in my whole dream. I was running around like a ninny, completely out of control and inconsolable. I was completely irrational and out of my mind. It was awful.

I can’t even talk about it.