I Dabble

So there's this new website called Dabble where you can sign up to teach or take a one-time class on just about anything. It's only available in a few cities right now, but fortunately for me, Denver is one of them, so I'm taking a women's writing class tomorrow night! There are two spots left in the class if anyone wants to join me!

(They're not like paying me for the advertisement or anything; the fact that this post is reading like a low-budge infomercial is purely coincidental.)

I've been tossing around the idea of taking a creative writing class at a local college, but I decided to try this one out first and then see what I want to do from there.

There's a voice inside my head telling me this is all a waste of time and that I'll never write anything worth reading, but you know what? That voice can suck it. You guys are obviously still reading this, and I've got some extra time on my hands since Gary's out of town so much, so why not?

Who knows? Maybe I will write something worth reading, and maybe I'll even get published someday, and then maybe my published work will find its way into the hands of one of Tina Fey's assistants, and maybe they'll rave so much about how great it is that she'll grudgingly agree to read it, and maybe she'll realize a few chapters in that she's finally found the kindred spirit she's spent her whole life searching for, and then maybe she'll call me and ask if I want to move to New York to be her best friend!

I haven't given it much thought; this is just one of many possible outcomes.

Now Let Me Blow Your Mind

I know I've been slacking the last couple days, but I can only write about killing moths so many times before people start to lose interest, and that's pretty much all I've got going on in my life.

SO! I'm going to distract you from the fact that I still didn't write anything today by showing you a super interesting website!

Read this if you're a nerd.

I'll Give You A War You Won't Believe

This is a video of the tree in my front yard from my living room window.

As you can see, the moths have got us surrounded.

Eleven of them ambushed me as I got out of the shower this morning. I bet they thought they were sooo smart, hiding in the vents while I got good and vulnerable. The joke was on them, though, 'cause after years of tutelage under Gary "Badder than Banner" Gray, I have finally developed the ability to hulk out with or without my purple pants.

I killed every last one of those little em-effers. I was ruthless. Merciless. Like a younger, cuter, more articulate Rambo.

Except I was the one who drew first blood. And my only weapon was a ball of toilet paper. And Trautman didn't make me; God made me!

OKAY FINE IT WAS NOTHING LIKE RAMBO.

**UPDATE**
It has been brought to my attention that you pretty much can't see crap in the video. I guess the quality got lost somewhere in the uploading process. What you should be looking at is the tree outside my house teeming with hundreds and hundreds of moths. It's gross.

Drive It All Day and Don't Fill Up the Tank

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Oh hey guys! I didn't see you there because I was too busy FREAKING OUT about the CAR I GOT THIS WEEKEND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

After more than two years of not having a car of my own, it's still a little surreal. I feel like someone just let me borrow it for a little while and I'm gonna have to give it back soon.

I named her Beyonce because she is classy and brown. (Don't tell Gary, but I also renamed his truck Jay-Z. They belong together. Who knows? There might even be a little bicycle named Blue Ivy in our future.)

Fashionista that she is, Beyonce wouldn't be caught dead without some killer accessories.

This one's my favorite:

It looks like any other remote, but then BAM!

It's also a key!

Gary got a matching one, so naturally this is what we spent most of the weekend doing:

Motherflippin

And so it begins.

Some of you may remember from blog posts of yore that Colorado Springs develops a bit of a moth problem during the spring and summer months.

I had my first sighting Wednesday morning. The moment I flipped my bathroom light on, I was was dive-bombed by a buzzing brown mass of hatred.

I was upset to say the least. It was six in the morning for crying out loud! I cursed aloud, slammed the door shut, and balled up some toilet paper in preparation for the ensuing cage match, screaming at my attacker all the while.

"I don't have the ENERGY to KILL you right now, but I HAVE to because I haven't washed my HAIR! in FIVE! DAYS!"

The last few words were punctuated by the echoing thuds of my fist on the wall as I missed my target again and again. When I finally pinned him, I reveled in the warmth of his broken body under my fingers. A sick sense of pleasure washed over me as I wiped the remaining guts off the clean, white paint. Little did I know at the time how dearly I would pay for my transgressions.

My punishment came in the night, and it came with a vengeance.

We keep our trashcan out in the garage in an effort to prevent the dogs from knocking it over and dragging its contents all over the house. As I opened the door to throw out an empty coke can, I was swarmed by a billion winged demons.* They were everywhere; ricocheting off my arms, burrowing into my hair - it was like that horrible Nicholas Cage movie (don't worry, I'll be more specific) where he has all those bees on his face. Evidently they had heard about what I did to their friend, and they. were. pissed.

I screamed. Not a gasp or a yelp; we're talking a for real, no holds barred, someone-is-murdering-me-in-a-bloody-fashion scream.

Luckily Sarah was there to bring me back to my senses, else I might have indulged my instinct to move out and leave them the house, since they had obviously won it fair and square. She slapped me across the face, handed me a flip flop and told me to sack up and start swatting.

It was a long, grueling battle. I did a lot of things I'm not proud of (as well as a couple things I'm really proud of, like the impressive jumpshot that brought down their second lieutenant). We made it out the other side with relatively few casualties, although there was one particularly close call involving a deadly game of cat and mouse behind our mason jar chandelier. Those little bastards played dirty, but we triumphed in the end.

So to all you moths out there who are thinking you might wanna try your luck, bring it. I will destroy you like I destroyed your spotted brethren: WITH PLEASURE.

*Dramatization. There were probably six or seven in all. Also, don't think I didn't notice you judging me for not recycling.

It's a Twin Thing

These photos were taken to commemorate the one day when Sarah and I had similar hair.

Tonight Sarah's getting hers chopped off for Locks of Love and probably dyed a different color, but it was fun while it lasted.

A note regarding the title: Sarah and I took a philosophy class together in college along with this really dumb girl who always wore those inside-out shirts that were so popular during the spring of 2007. Every time Sarah and I said something at the same time or did anything that remotely suggested we knew each other, Inside-Out-Shirt Girl would giggle and knowingly exclaim, "It's a twin thing!" despite the fact that we're 18 months apart. Welcome to our inside joke!

We Are Siamese If You Please

(Alternate Title: Gestation Sensation)

So I have this little bump on my left middle finger.

It's been there as long as I can remember, but recently I discovered that Sarah has an identical bump on her right middle finger.

I'm sure you can all guess what this means. Sarah and I are actually conjoined twins! We managed to separate ourselves before I was born, and then Sarah just needed to cook a little longer before she was ready to make her debut. Like 18 months longer.

Goodbye Readers. You're Gonna Hate Me Forever.

I know it might seem like I don't want you to read my blog because I keep showing you other, more awesome blogs.

Go ahead. Read this blog instead of mine.

Whatever, I'm getting cheese fries.

No Sleep Till Brooklyn

I spent yesterday evening playing with three adorable children and now it's dark and rainy outside which makes me extremely sleepy.

As if I needed an excuse to post a bunch of videos of babies falling asleep.







Okay that last one wasn't a human baby...but COME ON.

Portrait of an Apology

This post was doomed before it began. I created the masterpiece below as a clever play on a phrase whose origin I couldn't quite remember, although I was pretty sure it was the title of some esteemed work of literature or maybe a fancy movie.

As it turns out, "Portrait of an Apology" is nothing more than an obscure non-title track from a fifteen-year-old Jars of Clay album of little renown. Wamp-waaammmmmmp.

The most frustrating part is that the picture wasn't even the main point of the post! It was just supposed to be a little happetizer before the main course (a letter begging forgiveness from the light post I accidentally rammed with Gary's giant truck in the parking lot this morning*) which I am now far too downtrodden to compose, so now that light post probably thinks I don't even care.

Disappointment abounds.

*Gary, don't worry. The light post is fine.

Our Motto Is and Ever Was: Buzz Buzz Buzz Buzz Buzz Buzz Buzz Buzz

One of my cheap Walmart flats has developed a buzzlike squeak. (Who saw that coming?!)

Now whenever I walk anywhere I like to imagine that I'm deaf in one ear and there is a very ambitious fly doing laps around my head to train for the 2012 Summer Flylimpics.

GARY!

Gary comes home today! I'm picking him up in THREE HOURS!

I can't wait to see this face!

Whoops, my bad...wrong Gary.

I meant THIS FACE!

Nobody try to talk to me this weekend; I'll be too busy kissing my husband.

Tornado Tim

Hey, for future reference, if you're ever thinking about sending your family a hilarious email about how they're probably all gonna die in the tornado that's in their city, maybe it would be a good idea if you checked first to make sure it hasn't ALREADY HIT YOUR DAD'S OFFICE, 'cause otherwise you might end up feeling like the most insensitive person who ever lived.

Here's my dad's account of the day's events:

"The sirens had been going off for about thirty minutes but everyone was just laughing them off. My boss told me I was being paranoid, so I walked out to the back dock where a few other people were standing to check out the storm. As I looked up at the dark cloud coming toward us, I could see all these big pieces of sheet metal up in the sky, so I said, 'That's a tornado,' took off running into my office and did a third base slide under my desk just as the ceiling started coming in." (Thankfully, no one at the office was hurt.)

There are two morals to this story:

Moral #1: If Tim Howrey tells you there's a tornado coming, you better take cover because there is a gee dee tornado coming.

Moral #2: When all else fails, you can always rely on your baseball skills.

I Think I'm Paranoid

I've actually been doing surprisingly well on the not-being-terrified front while Gary's been gone, but I am telling you that there is something weird going on in my house.

Yesterday, the batteries in our smoke detector, the light bulb over our stove and the batteries in my wireless mouse all died. They ALL! DIED! Do you know what it's like having three e-burials in one day? The dogs were beside themselves with grief.

The worst part of it is that our smoke detector has a scary female voice that says "WARNING: LOW BATTERY" and sounds just like the intelligent computer from Eagle Eye. Thank GOODNESS I was on the phone with Gary when it happened, because it would really be a shame if I peed my pants and there was no one around to witness it.

I'm not suggesting my house is haunted or anything. What I am saying is there must be some kind of radioactivity going on that is messing up all the electronics in my house. OOH! OOH! OR! Maybe somebody set of one of those pinch things like in Ocean's Eleven! Yeah, that's probably what happened.

Mystery solved. Now I can get back to worrying about more important things like how to get my hair to look/feel/smell normal again after letting a bunch of high schoolers give me a shaving cream Snooki bump last night.

iPaid

While he's been in Montana, Gary has been completely without computer access. I'm afraid if I try to take over paying our bills online I'll ruin us forever, so yesterday I went to Best Buy to buy him an iPad.

It was easy. A little too easy, now that I think about it.

I remember walking in and telling them I wanted to buy an iPad...something about a credit card...and the next thing I knew I was back in the car, staring at the small white box in my hands and wondering what happened to all my money. Was it in the box? I opened it to check, but all I found was what appeared to be a giant iPhone.

I looked to Sarah for some sort of comfort or guidance, but she just shrugged her shoulders and said in a would-be reassuring tone, "At least now we can play Draw Something..." but I know deep down she was thinking the same thing I was: I am too poor to own something like this.

I'm surprised the Geeks at Best Buy even let me walk out of the store with it. Couldn't they see I was wearing a $4 v-neck from Walmart? Or that I can only afford to use Suave hair products? COULD THEY NOT SMELL THE MEDIOCRITY?

What if I've somehow upset the delicate balance between classes? Uhh, Houston, we've got an Upper-Lower encroaching on Lower-Middle territory...we're gonna have to take her down.*

I suppose only time will tell whether I've done any permanent damage...so in the meantime, my Draw Something name is emilygray86 AND I'M REALLY GOOD AT IT.

*Little known fact: NASA is responsible for maintaining the stratification of the American class system. And they will take you down.