tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59055730596131384692024-03-21T21:58:57.655-05:00Life (Almost) FactualIndigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.comBlogger74125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-45266805286366163762014-05-07T21:18:00.000-05:002014-05-07T21:18:05.574-05:00A New Family! And A New Blog!That's right! I've been gone for a long time, because I've been working on some amazing new material and some amazing life experiences all to come shortly! The new blog has officially launched unofficially (no content has been posted yet) stay tuned for more details!Indigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-47609450063862693452014-04-14T19:37:00.003-05:002014-04-14T19:37:18.456-05:00Indigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-64789491227892931102012-09-24T12:01:00.001-05:002012-09-24T12:01:48.282-05:00Unedited Thoughts of a Dying ManThese are the thoughts that go through my head when I'm sick. <br />
<br />
When you're sick like I am you sometimes start contemplating some of the more important issues in life. Such as "who is going to be at my funeral in approximately two days?" "have I made a big enough impact on the people I love?" "what is REALLY inside a Butterfinger?" all these questions have ran through my mind as I'm sitting in the doctors office waiting to be seen. I look almost as pathetic as I feel. I am wearing a heavy coat zipped all the way up with a scarf sticking out of the top, a floppy hat, and my bright orange fauxcleys. My feet are pulled up in the chair in the exam room and I am hugging my knees. I might die while sitting here. Honestly it feels like I am about to turn into a unicorn (if I do then this pain would be totally worth it for the transformation) I want to take some gloves and wear them but they only have the medium sized ones. My hands are rather big so they wouldn't fit. I think the nurse thinks I'm overly dramatic because when she asked me to rate my pain on a scale of one to ten I said death. Lady needs to get over herself and just save my life. I also wish she would turn the lights off in here. Even with sunglasses it's so bright I can barely hear myself think. <br />
<br />
Have you ever noticed the paper that covers the exam table? I hate that paper. How do I know how often they change it? And to be honest it's just uncomfortable and it is loud. Like really loud. It reminds me of the really cheap toilet paper in public bathrooms. I hate that stuff too. I would much rather Cottonelle. It's the Pizza Hut of toilet paper. Pizza Hut's biggest downfall is that they don't use the Pizza Hut of toilet paper. Cheap-o's. <br />
<br />
I'm wearing baggy jeans today because I need to do laundry. Not only do they look ridiculous but they are getting caught on my heal constantly. That's uncomfortable. <br />
<br />
I'm so hungry. <br />
<br />
Hopefully I can better recount this story someday if I don't actually die by some miracle. Because I promise it has been more exciting then what I'm writing. I just am having trouble concentrating long enough to finish a thoug<br />
Indigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-47901655331199826122012-09-24T09:40:00.001-05:002012-09-24T09:40:41.524-05:00Probably The Worst Post I've Ever Written. You're Welcome.I have a problem. (I feel like most my posts open with that statement) a problem with judging people. The weirdest thing is though, it's truly only one situation that I judge people. To be honest it's probably one of the absolutely worst times to judge somebody at that. I am ashamed to type the next sentence but.... I judge people that cry in church. I know that's terrible. Let's go ahead and get this out of the way before you send a hate email or post a mean comment, I know that I'm a terrible person. But let me clarify. I don't judge them because I think it makes them any less of a person or even because they can't control their emotions. I judge them because they're obviously hiding something. <br />
<br />
Now that I've made some people mad let me elaborate. If I see somebody crying in church, my very first thought is "she's a druggy." or "he definitely is sleeping around on his wife" sometimes even "they probably have 20 dead bodies under the floor in their basement" I feel like this post is boring. So let me spice it up real quick. Last week I was walking down the sidewalk when I ran into a dinosaur and I decided that they were a mass murderer so I karate chopped them in the throat and then found five dollars and saved a baby. The end. <br />
<br />
This is the by product of writing a post when I have a fever and a migraine. <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMj3IdkMFTVR0E9CoAMuhJvHuRxAFJ2vSncssO-5WNsnim-duRWRt-eS_NEoRrIw8Ibq0CWCoJQ_N5snVYrnLaGcaj5kmjftReH2lrqvUi5f5IDbEfqBZfRulrJ-apLjUpC25XU_We6htV/s640/blogger-image-1660913141.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMj3IdkMFTVR0E9CoAMuhJvHuRxAFJ2vSncssO-5WNsnim-duRWRt-eS_NEoRrIw8Ibq0CWCoJQ_N5snVYrnLaGcaj5kmjftReH2lrqvUi5f5IDbEfqBZfRulrJ-apLjUpC25XU_We6htV/s640/blogger-image-1660913141.jpg" /></a></div>Indigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-68006472365677469862012-08-15T15:37:00.000-05:002012-08-15T15:40:47.859-05:00Find Waldo, Lose Friends.I was <i style="font-weight: bold;">THE BEST</i> child in my kindergarten class. I feel like now would be an excellent time to end this post whilst I'm ahead, however I didn't create this blog in order to quit while ahead. I created in order to chronicle the happenings of my life in a exciting and mostly true way. So I will write what I owe the Internet.<br />
<br />
I was <i style="font-weight: bold;">THE BEST</i> child in my kindergarten class until my best friend found Waldo. At first thought, finding Waldo is pretty impressive. It might would even make me want to personally give my friend a handshake, pat on the back, or possibly even a hug. No probably not a hug. That's just pushing it. But at least a friendly high five. That would be the thought anyway if I wasn't <i style="font-weight: bold;">THE BEST</i> (I totally accidentally just typed the breat which autocorrected to the breast. Win) child in my kindergarten class.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
I remember Kindergarten like it was fifteen years ago. I was quite possibly also <i style="font-weight: bold;">THE CUTEST</i> kid there as well. But that's currently irrelevant...and I'll let you guys decide that anyway.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHOmqnfjK7dnqL-U94WP5FMnuwMgYGFKG3UxCCnV5NhMYSDXrc09RUHVQY7Ko9PF5M-xqpCx8B0dUGR8LgzJ6PbouAslnA1xcN1jiJmCUWUpCSxwNs2h7iemWKgOtyte5Ai0Q6wEgXvD_q/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-08-10+at+5.10.21+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHOmqnfjK7dnqL-U94WP5FMnuwMgYGFKG3UxCCnV5NhMYSDXrc09RUHVQY7Ko9PF5M-xqpCx8B0dUGR8LgzJ6PbouAslnA1xcN1jiJmCUWUpCSxwNs2h7iemWKgOtyte5Ai0Q6wEgXvD_q/s400/Screen+Shot+2012-08-10+at+5.10.21+PM.png" width="386" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So I think this picture was actually taken<br />
in the first grade...but regardless I'm cute. And no,<br />
this is not the friend that this post is about. However<br />
I did just learn that I will be attending school with<br />
her this fall.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
When I went to the first day of Kindergarten I knew that I had a legacy to uphold. My sister was the very first child to ever make it through the entire school year without losing a smiley face. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Let me explain something to you. Smiley faces are a big deal for a five year old. Quite possibly one of the biggest deals that there can be. So when a kindergarten teacher (especially one named Mrs. Muddy) decides that creating an entire disciplinary system based around the concept of earning and losing smiley faces is a good idea, it's not. It can mess with a kid. When you start messing around with smiley faces it can totally become the focus of a kid's life. As it apparently did my sisters, and it definitely did mine. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The moment I earned my very first smiley face for pushing my chair in when I stood up I became addicted. There is just something special about that high you get when you see your kindergarten teacher reach into her desk and pull out that small, golden circle with a smile drawn on and adhere it with sticky tack right next to your name. I had to get more.<br />
<br />
It wasn't long before I had found out practically every way to get a smiley face and I started carrying them out every chance I got. In fact if my memory serves me right, I think my teacher ended up putting a "ten smiley face limit" on the class. (on me in particular. I think I was the only smiley hoarder) I was a smiley face earning machine. I was a beast. I was <i style="font-weight: bold;">THE BEST</i> kid in my class.<br />
<br />
I had a friend in this class named Jidden. Jidden was easily a tie for my best friend with the girl in the picture above. Jidden and I had a common goal. We would be the first to find Waldo on every page of the book. This was a good goal because it took a while to accomplish and kept us motivated. Eventually we were down to the final page though and this mutual goal turned into a bit of a competition. We would push ourselves to be the first person done with our class work in order to be the first to get the Waldo book so that we could have a greater advantage at finding Waldo. I think these might have been the first developing signs of my SuperGenius status.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFpdFGLqp7VYxtX3zprKp2KufWr2oled5T01cpDkrJpe4FMqbIwSqQO9vR3bcIxYZ_nquQcN0vP_gXFErhDtwm2lamyEqLu-89Kyy37m5qKKoCPcbP92_nuGDBbzhjEURmjGHgBcazztu5/s1600/Jidden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFpdFGLqp7VYxtX3zprKp2KufWr2oled5T01cpDkrJpe4FMqbIwSqQO9vR3bcIxYZ_nquQcN0vP_gXFErhDtwm2lamyEqLu-89Kyy37m5qKKoCPcbP92_nuGDBbzhjEURmjGHgBcazztu5/s400/Jidden.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Jidden. Also, turns out our yearbooks didn't<br />
get color until my 8th grade year...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
One particular day however, Jidden beat me to it. This was not ok with me because I knew that I was so very close to finding Waldo. I stared him down with everything I could as I finished tracing the alphabet on my paper and went to turn it in. As I walked back toward my desk I made a small detour in Jidden's direction and accidentally nudged the book off his desk and onto the floor. That should teach him. Well, I thought it would anyway. Instead it resulted with a foot being stuck out as I was walking away and me landing on my face.<br />
<br />
Mrs. Muddy did not know exactly what was happening but she didn't like it. She immediately told me to return to my seat and said that for the next twenty minutes she was to hear NOBODY talking. I don't know what talking had to do with the fact that Jidden unfairly was using the book I needed in order to find Waldo and sleep in peace but I obliged and sat down and put my head on my desk.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNPcuVri8xYVIYNEDlw4wXCvbjoGtnDAUvrbkPAQ93V1_Jr-epPF0NgSbCzl0AnoaORqwz4M9IONs9joQW_6pbw_cjR36VCQ-XpC0Nvf_zdARXc20g2fCmfzIvF9C9-smz6JJA9iWPkGCI/s1600/Waldo+in+a+Cage.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNPcuVri8xYVIYNEDlw4wXCvbjoGtnDAUvrbkPAQ93V1_Jr-epPF0NgSbCzl0AnoaORqwz4M9IONs9joQW_6pbw_cjR36VCQ-XpC0Nvf_zdARXc20g2fCmfzIvF9C9-smz6JJA9iWPkGCI/s320/Waldo+in+a+Cage.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waldo was simply waiting to be released by me! But Jidden<br />
had the book :(</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
About five minutes later a conversation took place...<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Jidden: *GASP!!* Psssssttt!!!! *whispers* Indi!!! INNNNDDDDIIIII!!!!!!!</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: *ignores*</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Jidden: *still whispering* PPPPPPPSSSSSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! INDIIII!!!!! I FOUND HIMMM!!!!!!!</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: SHHHH!!!!</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Jidden: *more whispers* I saaiiiiiidddddd I founnndddd himmmm!!!!!!!!! </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: *loud whisper* I said SSSSHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Jidden: *still more whispers* Look! He's right hereee!!!!</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: *yelling and slamming hand on desk* SHUT UPPP!!!!!!!! </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Mrs. Muddy: *also slamming hand on desk* That's it! *walks over and pulls smiley face off my chart* We will NOT talk like that in MY class!!</blockquote>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg41GCpxyqe-Q1OtnTqMbn5TVPaQpJ3WoF3OksXHVxqklEaKsddAoldqNeQ_QLLTg0mqWy0cNGS8hXClxcmzNK6DvZoRZasMaHVMbbRqpgVepHsj6VKZ8n73KgWQZgGLSFkU2deyrHqEPMY/s1600/Indie's+profanities..png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg41GCpxyqe-Q1OtnTqMbn5TVPaQpJ3WoF3OksXHVxqklEaKsddAoldqNeQ_QLLTg0mqWy0cNGS8hXClxcmzNK6DvZoRZasMaHVMbbRqpgVepHsj6VKZ8n73KgWQZgGLSFkU2deyrHqEPMY/s320/Indie's+profanities..png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shut up is a bad word....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Following this incident with Jidden and Mrs. Muddy, I immediately broke into tears. And not the gentle tears either. The hard-core "everybody-I-just-cared-about-died-in-a-fiery-explosion-caused-by-my-arch-nemesis-sob" kind of cry. It wasn't until Mrs. Muddy threatened to take down another smiley face that I dried up. That was a very low kind of threat. I lost some respect for Mrs. Muddy that day.<br />
<br />
The worst part about the whole ordeal was knowing that even if I earned a cabozillion more smiley faces before the year was over, I would still be one short of my potential. And it was all Jidden, Waldo, and Mrs. Muddy's fault. I would get even with them all. I would avenge my smiley face's death. This was not the end.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<b><i>Illustrations credited to Tom</i></b></div>
</div>
Indigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-39694016021304029562012-08-10T12:22:00.001-05:002012-08-10T12:22:21.634-05:00One Night of Lawlessness: Aftermath<br />
<br />
<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-6446420229627492877" itemprop="articleBody" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 586px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i>I turned around and looked at the school building. I watched as the light to the stairs got turned on....</i></div>
<div style="clear: both;">
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">(if this quote is unfamiliar to you, this final post would make more sense if you went <a href="http://lifealmostfactual.blogspot.com/2012/07/one-night-of-lawlessness-abortion.html" target="_blank">here and read this</a> first)</span></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">I was terrified. Not only had I forgotten to text Egypt to tell him I was on my way, but also someone who potentially could ruin my chance of graduating was seconds away from catching me. I needed to think quickly. One more time I needed to use that brain that earned me Valedictorian... </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">I laid down. Flat down. In the middle of the parking lot and I stopped breathing. I lied there ready to die. (I have NO idea if I used the correct verbs of "lay" in those sentences. "lay" was never my strong suit. "You got lied?!")</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"> These were my final moments, and the school would escape unscathed while I rot in the parking lot for my attempted misdemeanors. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"></span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Suddenly a light shown bright on me. Here we go. I waited for the Administration to call me out. I knew they could see me since they had their flashlight on me. But they didn't say anything. The light blinked brighter twice. I was as confused as Kermit the Frog was when he found out that frogs and pigs genetically can't mate. I looked up from the ground and realized it was the headlights of a '03 bright red Mustang. Salvation. I jumped up and started running towards Egypt as Egypt started driving towards me. It was a beautiful thing.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZaA0EWIu_4KisgPiCTItRyUsZdXsfgIsgG9_q6WgQfXx9ecK9KLuc-jJ7IcpJY7oTKjHuIRuAzJnGrXAeP9A9xUwPm5bg6jT1l_ZLgTWN8J8LCLHXduA8jIxbiIEbJxVFitHcWYU92MS1/s1600/Kermit+and+Mrs.+Piggy's+Offspring.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZaA0EWIu_4KisgPiCTItRyUsZdXsfgIsgG9_q6WgQfXx9ecK9KLuc-jJ7IcpJY7oTKjHuIRuAzJnGrXAeP9A9xUwPm5bg6jT1l_ZLgTWN8J8LCLHXduA8jIxbiIEbJxVFitHcWYU92MS1/s400/Kermit+and+Mrs.+Piggy's+Offspring.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See! The mating of frogs and pigs just isn't natural!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">As I neared the vehicle, it skidded and turned to a stop - the passenger side door flying open to welcome me aboard. I dove in as Egypt peeled out of the parking lot, leaving tire marks and the Administration in our wake. We just took 007/Josie and the Pussycats to a whole new level. It was almost like we added the orange TMNT dude into the mixture. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">We drove to a parking lot a few blocks away and sat depressed. We had no idea what we were going to do since our plan fell through and we still had half the night left. Just four wayward souls drifting along not knowing how to spend the rest of a lawless night.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">This next part might get a little weird.. just a forewarning. Because I don't know why, but for some reason we decided that the next best thing to being illegal would be to drive 45 minutes to the closest Taco Bell just to get some Doritos Locos Tacos... (by the way, totally the best taco ever. Hands down) So when we finally get to the Taco Bell and order 27 Doritos Locos Tacos via drive thru, you would have thought that we did something illegal. As it turns out it is almost unheard of for 27 tacos to be ordered at once. My answer to that? Apparently not enough people have tried the Doritos Locos Taco then. Eventually we got our tacos and hit the road.. Now is when the night took another turn for the illegal.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://cdn.foodbeast.com.s3.amazonaws.com/content/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/official-doritos-taco-shell-picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="227" src="http://cdn.foodbeast.com.s3.amazonaws.com/content/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/official-doritos-taco-shell-picture.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seriously - Best. Taco. Ever.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
</div>
There is this park. It's a nice little park. It's located in the ritzy part of the town where I live. (I don't live in the ritzy part of town, the park does) There's a pond with catfish and a fountain in it, paths for walking, picnic tables for picnicking, and a dock for doing dock-like-things on it. And there is a rules sign. Yes. That's right. The park we decided to go eat our tacos at has a rules sign. Or as I like to call it a "God's-Giving-Us-One-More-Chance-To-Break-The-Rules Sign".<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9LqTzXnmdapupQqpYyUsDAdKmDKwmVPUrj3NMWdS02egNi7VjgPKUF3VaFvkRECgVYqpMs8ri3O7CEZWVxisWYjpcoCvJDuFJ4yZRBsmGuxTddGLFqGoXbF4ClB7kmbpi3aNJ08lGivd/s1600/parksign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9LqTzXnmdapupQqpYyUsDAdKmDKwmVPUrj3NMWdS02egNi7VjgPKUF3VaFvkRECgVYqpMs8ri3O7CEZWVxisWYjpcoCvJDuFJ4yZRBsmGuxTddGLFqGoXbF4ClB7kmbpi3aNJ08lGivd/s320/parksign.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">YAY RULES!!! AND FREE VIDEO DOCUMENTATION!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Ok, so I will go ahead and spoil for you that we did not break EVERY rule on that sign. In fact we didn't even break most of them. But we definitely broke at least the first one by simply being in the park when it was well past eleven. (it was at least 11:25 anyway. Maybe later. Maybe not. I'm not telling...)<br />
<br />
We picked a quaint little picnic bench and sat to eat our 27 tacos. I think I ended up eating 13 of them. Due to <a href="http://lifealmostfactual.blogspot.com/2012/06/story-for-emm.html" target="_blank">my last experience with littering</a>, I decided it would be a beneficial idea to take advantage of the numerous trashcans on the property when we had finished. (seriously, this place had like 700 trashcans. You would think it was the freaking Central Park)<br />
<br />
But the night was not over yet. I still needed to rid myself of some urges to break the law! Wait, no, that was something else I needed to rid myself of. My bladder was filled to the tip top and it was about to explode everywhere. For such a richy park, I am surprised to inform you that they have ZERO bathrooms. So what did I decide to do?<br />
<br />
Even thought it isn't on the rules sign, I'm pretty sure that peeing in the fountain/pond thing is labeled as a frowned upon gesture. But I swear I just couldn't help it! (you're welcome to whoever monitors those video surveillance cameras that the sign was talking about!) On a side note, the pond does have catfish and these catfish did enjoy jumping in the water and eating my urine. Sorry. That was a really disgusting sentence. Quite possibly the most disgusting sentence I've ever wrote. But it's already typed now so no use in deleting it!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj278h00vINa15mSBWsm5FMBbxVjF8KwL1lcfdB-6DITgivxS9wcWNZu94nc8GSYu-QEcPzZNUE6YMRiQ-3i4D7lfZgZAUkEUIZvKvaLoavObmbBlB_gZggPnbRIDj2-f_gEMARJsW4p6xe/s1600/Indies+Lawlessness.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj278h00vINa15mSBWsm5FMBbxVjF8KwL1lcfdB-6DITgivxS9wcWNZu94nc8GSYu-QEcPzZNUE6YMRiQ-3i4D7lfZgZAUkEUIZvKvaLoavObmbBlB_gZggPnbRIDj2-f_gEMARJsW4p6xe/s400/Indies+Lawlessness.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is 100% accurate.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
When we finally left the park to head home we realized something. We were totally bad-A!!! No I'm totally just kidding. But we did have a sense of fulfillment. We had just lived out our One Night of Lawlessness.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Illustrations credited to Tom.</i></div>
<div class="post-footer" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.6; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.5em;">
</div>Indigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-23473295463037323392012-07-23T10:36:00.001-05:002012-07-23T10:36:36.960-05:00It's My Birthday!!!So I am taking a slight break from my Night of Lawlessness series because I have a special post to write. This one. Today as some of you know was in fact my birthday! And it was a lovely day! I had such a wonderful day that instead of keeping all gifts for myself, I have decided that I will instead give YOU a gift! I am about to post my VERY first video of myself to my blog!! So those of you who do not know me, are about to get a great deal more personal! I hope you enjoy! Much Love -Indi<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<a name='more'></a><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxJcAzEFlqxnJOiaU56ZHBfuWJfQguLYSYdtvvX6R_i5BTtsA5oCh6yAwmRHI2LJ2ndMSHEHRXtipD2de0eNQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
P.S. I have been trying to upload this since my birthday (last Friday the 20th of July. Mark your calendar for next year. There will be no excuses then) and it hasn't worked. I finally drove to my church (they have excellent internet) and got it on YouTube and now on here. So if it doesn't work then check YouTube <a href="http://youtu.be/VyEfSvZe3O4" target="_blank">at the link here</a>. </div>Indigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-64464202296274928772012-07-17T22:05:00.003-05:002012-08-10T12:25:08.728-05:00One Night of Lawlessness: Abortion<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i>Egypt: Crap man! ...You need to get out now. </i></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i>Me: I can't. There's someone else on this floor too. And they have lights turned on...</i></div>
</blockquote>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><i> </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">(if this quote is unfamiliar to you, this post would make more sense if you went<a href="http://lifealmostfactual.blogspot.com/2012/07/one-night-of-lawlessness-execution.html" target="_blank"> here and read this first</a>)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Uwp_S_X8Qvpe59tcPrpIIr4rIdQRJfPaojlwi7GFm-qg1JlMqU3H8i29ds6LceiCxNn8_ioXPQDj0bgO6rc-qqQydlfNHyD_VztingmRJFCFcFUAgd_P7_iiL6q3W5VwSYGMWO9XU42t/s1600/Indie+Bathroom.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Uwp_S_X8Qvpe59tcPrpIIr4rIdQRJfPaojlwi7GFm-qg1JlMqU3H8i29ds6LceiCxNn8_ioXPQDj0bgO6rc-qqQydlfNHyD_VztingmRJFCFcFUAgd_P7_iiL6q3W5VwSYGMWO9XU42t/s400/Indie+Bathroom.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So there I was in the dark. All alone.,,,</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I didn't know what to do. Egypt was telling me to abort and run before I got caught, but I knew if I moved now that I would surely get caught. So I was almost positive the gig was up and I would not be walking during graduation. I had no idea what I could do. So I sat. And waited. Then that terrifying moment that you all expected to happen in part2 happened. Whoever was in the other room walked into the girl's bathroom and turned on the light. It was all over.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
I stopped breathing to make sure I didn't create any unneeded noise. Maybe just maybe if I didn't move I wouldn't get caught. Whoever it was walked over to a stall and sat down to use the bathroom. I had two options. I could try to get out then, or I could shrink as far as I could into the corner in hopes she wouldn't notice me. Right when I decided I would start to make my move....<br />
<br />
<i>flush</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I changed my mind and stayed still. Here it came. The moment of truth. It was at this moment I learned something about this unknown person. They don't wash their hands. I was disgusted. It is <i style="font-weight: bold;">never</i> ok to use the bathroom - or even go into the bathroom - without washing your hands before you leave. It is simply hygienic.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-LninYfCoTJVjUcTD-bHqsTvNKKgA0Q8yJ2IY0hZA4Gaxpq_Gf5XTLwOH2iFepNQ3bZAGb21yPnxJgYP5eDO68-6NI9hN2GyoTnqmh3O7QFkFIzpuu-8UGGlk1FJ77-KWQOB9rEpOd1Go/s1600/Indies+hand.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-LninYfCoTJVjUcTD-bHqsTvNKKgA0Q8yJ2IY0hZA4Gaxpq_Gf5XTLwOH2iFepNQ3bZAGb21yPnxJgYP5eDO68-6NI9hN2GyoTnqmh3O7QFkFIzpuu-8UGGlk1FJ77-KWQOB9rEpOd1Go/s400/Indies+hand.png" width="381" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See what difference can be made between a washed and not washed hand??</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
No matter how gross it may be, I have to be thankful for this however. If it weren't for her lack of sanitary care, I would probably have been expelled three days before graduation. She turned the lights off as she left leaving me in utter darkness. I decided I should text Egypt:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: Hey, I almost just got caught. I think I'm almost in the clear to leave though. Am I still good on the main level?</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Egypt: Yea man. Just text when you're on your way so we can get you. Monterey Jack is on the far side of the building. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: K...</blockquote>
The door to the stairwell (such a weird word) slammed and I realized this might be my only chance. I slid out from underneath the sink and slinked across the bathroom to the door. I cracked it open and saw that the light to the storage room was still on. With no other signs of danger I slid through the door and into the hallway running as gingerly as I could to the furthest set of stairs. (they went directly to the door that I would be meeting Egypt, Accomplice4 and Yosef at)<br />
<br />
I was about halfway down the stairs when I slipped and fell. I'm not sure how loud the thud was from falling almost a whole flight of stairs but I knew a couple things that did not make me happy.<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li>I just fell down approximately seven steps and my butt was throbbing.</li>
<li>I may or may not have just alerted everybody in the building of my whereabouts.</li>
<li>I probably would not have fallen had I not forgotten my shoes in the girl's bathroom.</li>
</ol>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQacrL7hS0VGHHsou8gEz1EZZytEYmszfwl5j3f0TqbNT8ObgIwj3_T5urTN39f7PZfE4X6AJfTcstm2c36V1KrE9KRZE-yfACxlxSwdiMBg9Stz4_MJrYGz0ZjJmGKeTNCHTSRHYRWPTC/s1600/Indie's+Shoes.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQacrL7hS0VGHHsou8gEz1EZZytEYmszfwl5j3f0TqbNT8ObgIwj3_T5urTN39f7PZfE4X6AJfTcstm2c36V1KrE9KRZE-yfACxlxSwdiMBg9Stz4_MJrYGz0ZjJmGKeTNCHTSRHYRWPTC/s400/Indie's+Shoes.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now would be an EXCELLENT time to point out that all the illustrations you<br />
see in this post were not drawn by me. They instead were drawn by Tom.<br />
I feel he captures my essence more than I ever have...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Does anybody else see how this could become problematic? Of course I could go on living without that pair of shoes. In fact I don't think I really liked them anyway. The issue arrises when one stops to consider how a female would feel after finding a pair of size 13 men's Chuck's in the bathroom... Now we are on the same page. I had no option but to jump up and run back to the bathroom to get my shoes. Because I was pretty positive that I had already alerted everybody in the building of my intrusion, I didn't take near as much care when returning for my shoes. While I tried to stay semi quiet I didn't worry if I accidentally ran straight into a locker....which totally didn't happen I swear.<br />
<br />
I finally got to the bathroom and retrieved my shoes before slipping back into the hallway to make a mad dash toward the exit. I decided about halfway that I was cooler than James Bond and Josie and the Pussycats mixed together. I was an uber-spy. I needed to use a little more stealth...I started sliding across the walls instead of just running. I got to the stairs and jumped over the railing landing on the main level. I walked nonchalantly out the front door and into the parking lot waiting for Egypt to show up with his beautiful car.....but he wasn't there.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMf7Pn4gRxURuQGo98ovmlbGJx1SR2edGtIJyesAPrehnGayObsGvSdnDwdvvZxchr61-l92phaxbWPP_qlhm6Yo-b7zru7Xyh0VK1m73YkdEFonYhI5MCsvqpQGvl5FPCC6o0N9YSjBqi/s1600/James+Bond+++Jose+and+the+Pussy+Cats.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="115" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMf7Pn4gRxURuQGo98ovmlbGJx1SR2edGtIJyesAPrehnGayObsGvSdnDwdvvZxchr61-l92phaxbWPP_qlhm6Yo-b7zru7Xyh0VK1m73YkdEFonYhI5MCsvqpQGvl5FPCC6o0N9YSjBqi/s400/James+Bond+++Jose+and+the+Pussy+Cats.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Notice that the mixture of the two (me) is winking.<br />
It's because you're beautiful. If you don't believe me then <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XCBfvgQqDF8" target="_blank">click here</a>.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<i>Crap! I forgot to text Egypt that I was on my way out! </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I turned around and looked at the school building. I watched as the light to the stairs got turned on....<br />
<br />
<i><a href="http://lifealmostfactual.blogspot.com/2012/08/one-night-of-lawlessness-aftermath.html" target="_blank">Continue on to Part 4: Aftermath</a></i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Illustrations credited to Tom</i></div>Indigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-80526623994061009592012-07-05T11:10:00.000-05:002012-08-10T11:10:01.602-05:00One Night of Lawlessness: Execution<i>Luckily for us, as our very last plan (or so we thought) failed, we were presented with one more chance to get into the building... </i>(if this quote is unfamiliar to you, this post would make more sense if you went<a href="http://lifealmostfactual.blogspot.com/2012/07/one-night-of-lawlessness-planning.html" target="_blank"> here and read this first</a>)<br />
<br />
Kindergarten Graduation. We have all done it. The small production followed by a little ceremony where you wear a mini cap-n-gown and they hand you a piece of rolled up copy paper. This seemingly unimportant event was exactly what we needed to pull off our prank of the century. Not only would attending such an event gain us access to the building, but it would also look very good on us to show up and "support" the graduating twirlers. (I'm not sure if anybody else in the world uses the word "twirlers" to refer to young children, but I think I heard my cousin use it one time and it has stuck ever since)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGt4oFhaZXIY62Oc2IvnKi7wOvJnYk2Ss7Gw-oJ34GWPWINvm4DbLMAfOSZVdJprFl3wuuSaIJhT2R0OMEpJKvTS_4nZiyA2Tdv_xkhDxGsMY1KB_2G8UwL1XNWxOzIPK6slLOvYLvZFtN/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-07-03+at+10.54.50+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGt4oFhaZXIY62Oc2IvnKi7wOvJnYk2Ss7Gw-oJ34GWPWINvm4DbLMAfOSZVdJprFl3wuuSaIJhT2R0OMEpJKvTS_4nZiyA2Tdv_xkhDxGsMY1KB_2G8UwL1XNWxOzIPK6slLOvYLvZFtN/s400/Screen+Shot+2012-07-03+at+10.54.50+PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I consider this proof that the diploma is actually copy paper.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a name='more'></a><br />
So Egypt, Yosef, and I attended the Kindergarten Graduation with a fourth accomplice in tow. (she wasn't a senior at the same time as us but she was a close enough friend that we let her participate. I'm also not allowed to name her in this post) The plan was as follows:<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>After the reception, Egypt, Yosef, and I would go back to the other building to use the bathroom. (the people that appear in the below picture are as follows [left to right]: Accomplice4, Egypt, Indi, and Yosef)</li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUoImy04YAsZVqCziRVdSa1e1tVdPw5i-DMwovIjXqDMBt_yeCK7DYq57kRou8DTeBBIycVxscpf__3KblrrQQUJzsG5ZUCwF04kfMoHkc9q0NuxmzIINLD0f5yN63IHiFxLVumaPZoJRD/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-07-03+at+11.11.52+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUoImy04YAsZVqCziRVdSa1e1tVdPw5i-DMwovIjXqDMBt_yeCK7DYq57kRou8DTeBBIycVxscpf__3KblrrQQUJzsG5ZUCwF04kfMoHkc9q0NuxmzIINLD0f5yN63IHiFxLVumaPZoJRD/s400/Screen+Shot+2012-07-03+at+11.11.52+PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Umm...We don't feel so good..."<br />
**disclaimer** the person on the far left is not a racial slur.<br />
This person simply wishes to remain anonymous.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<ul>
<li> I would finish first and then say I was headed to the car. I would walk like I was going outside and let the door slam before dashing quietly upstairs to hide out. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAnl1y6PqPnLTzB7xrD3_QgJgpo1OPMyqNc-qkNT2ml53K5kug_B4x4QJXi-DEz7nVy7ZS2jiY5eKYZiP4hXoNDedUjqWE4CKL0egSYXR3oIdnM6gEA3ocp4ypTpkXX6Sgco6M8YJA-e60/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-07-03+at+11.22.57+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="337" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAnl1y6PqPnLTzB7xrD3_QgJgpo1OPMyqNc-qkNT2ml53K5kug_B4x4QJXi-DEz7nVy7ZS2jiY5eKYZiP4hXoNDedUjqWE4CKL0egSYXR3oIdnM6gEA3ocp4ypTpkXX6Sgco6M8YJA-e60/s400/Screen+Shot+2012-07-03+at+11.22.57+PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I'm done with the bathroom...I think I'll go outside..." *oh look! Stairs! I should<br />
run up them and hide out!*</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<ul>
<li>Then the other two would leave (we assumed the administration would be waiting to lock up) and drive off pretending I was waiting in the car. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg75bk_AZOFEKNYsae1eOcq4UUEvclDnlPF4RLRMfaVnZAeYkkepDhUmdAH37xju03mU2cJ9Gm0ZksrbfV8iHm2KrKg8iWbSL5npKH6G0ropdT47EpnntCV34-DxOl5VRi0bpuy0g6RTiQ6/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-07-03+at+11.35.03+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg75bk_AZOFEKNYsae1eOcq4UUEvclDnlPF4RLRMfaVnZAeYkkepDhUmdAH37xju03mU2cJ9Gm0ZksrbfV8iHm2KrKg8iWbSL5npKH6G0ropdT47EpnntCV34-DxOl5VRi0bpuy0g6RTiQ6/s400/Screen+Shot+2012-07-03+at+11.35.03+PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Notice it is a Mustang.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Accomplice4 was to go home and wait for Egypt to come pick her up so she could sneak out then get dropped off with me where we would hide out until it was late enough to execute the plan. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIXLR6SYegpXNWbWGt881bbxpMvit_jbmQxn_4lfsu7dC7HC3ltzanIl8fOdNAWSgL8HG5ZVF4kdByBIkXpWVR4rdtXXqhXVfML2UepFbO4ZnclxbsQiusObEgNJHYPFuR7QRV1pj0Xbed/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-07-03+at+11.39.44+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIXLR6SYegpXNWbWGt881bbxpMvit_jbmQxn_4lfsu7dC7HC3ltzanIl8fOdNAWSgL8HG5ZVF4kdByBIkXpWVR4rdtXXqhXVfML2UepFbO4ZnclxbsQiusObEgNJHYPFuR7QRV1pj0Xbed/s400/Screen+Shot+2012-07-03+at+11.39.44+PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She lives in a big blue house...just like Bear.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>When it came time for execution, I would go down to a side door, and let everybody else in. We do our prank, we get out, everybody goes crazy the next morning. </li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTooSZXhQI-Jwe1HU-xKPWSiKHPvNd0AQsl2_zj_xOqaNLDIG9ha8NCscZC82wC1s2QCUmD4i_ODjChmQvHtLLsoHFQrC6yxgx3nh_nT_f2A4T4ZHBeP-0ALTIJfNanHTI1aWuf7SduLsY/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-07-03+at+11.56.01+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTooSZXhQI-Jwe1HU-xKPWSiKHPvNd0AQsl2_zj_xOqaNLDIG9ha8NCscZC82wC1s2QCUmD4i_ODjChmQvHtLLsoHFQrC6yxgx3nh_nT_f2A4T4ZHBeP-0ALTIJfNanHTI1aWuf7SduLsY/s400/Screen+Shot+2012-07-03+at+11.56.01+PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's a large number of people freaking out. Also L(A)F promotes<br />
racial diversity amongst greens, blues, and oranges.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We finally had a fool-proof plan. It was going to work.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<br /></div>
<div>
We were executing the plan exactly how it was supposed to go down. I let the door slam and scurried on upstairs to hide in the library while Accomplice4 went to her big blue house and Egypt and Yosef waited on the crapper.<br />
<br />
After a few minutes I got a text from Egypt saying that they had left but to be careful because the administration had asked where I was and were still in the building. They apparently were not very good listeners as I definitely said "I'm headed out to the car to wait for you!" It was ok though. I had found an excellent hiding place and could wait.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZObYyjW2ta8YtFF-YzRG7JUcIeX1te3ZtfuwDFDhl7BNasMd3zMcbE5_NAbjaHDp5cGIWl28p6vWEDpnscY6Tcfeb3aIxY1XyW9eSDdOsgMitnaiQAPmnCv_Bc2sySRnZPNbqitxjOK-G/s1600/library1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZObYyjW2ta8YtFF-YzRG7JUcIeX1te3ZtfuwDFDhl7BNasMd3zMcbE5_NAbjaHDp5cGIWl28p6vWEDpnscY6Tcfeb3aIxY1XyW9eSDdOsgMitnaiQAPmnCv_Bc2sySRnZPNbqitxjOK-G/s400/library1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I actually didn't draw this picture. This picture is courtesy of Emm.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4PlrFzJzVVlLRhV3RJFabjZlKuT4rSMCmOcOaaJ8Wh1e-NeihF09AcFpidwbO5vvtODGsveLeRiUhmWv7IVjk2FV3kDaw6iH3eO4qoAp5z5rjNzfOXrQtlBptDOP5laPR6sysYm4IeHJA/s1600/library2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4PlrFzJzVVlLRhV3RJFabjZlKuT4rSMCmOcOaaJ8Wh1e-NeihF09AcFpidwbO5vvtODGsveLeRiUhmWv7IVjk2FV3kDaw6iH3eO4qoAp5z5rjNzfOXrQtlBptDOP5laPR6sysYm4IeHJA/s400/library2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So this is where I was hiding out inside the library. Right between the book shelfs.<br />
Photo also courtesy of Emm.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
All of a sudden I heard a door slam and footsteps further on down the hall. I also noticed a light turning on somewhere in the hall. This was not good. My heart rate literally jumped up to about infinity. I didn't know what to do. I pulled out my phone and texted Egypt:</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: Egypt!!!! SOMEONE IS ON THE HS FLOOR!!! WHAT SHOULD I DO????</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Egypt: Are you hidden good?</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: For now.. I mean if someone were to walk into the library I would be screwed. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Egypt: Crap man... Try moving when you get the chance and Yosef and I will drive around the block to see if anybody is still there. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: k... BTW If I die, make sure they play Britney at my funeral. (for some reason my mind always jumps to Britney when I start thinking about the possibility of my death) </blockquote>
After about five minutes I heard the door headed to the stairs slam. Now was my chance. I slipped my shoes off (they're very squeaky on tile floor) and slid out to the hallway. The light was still on in the storage room where somebody had obviously just been. I slugged as quietly as I could doing my best to not freak out while looking for another hiding place. Finally I figured it out.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihNh7z_d66IYluJrHo29oiXlYbxubj89gwOTl-LuMTEYHtRM2heLucA9mevfBeMpTRNETPt-KQFqp-ge3jc3B5u7mJn22u-9wRc3NDigzZv0LrQ1VYHRjvlbJE6_NEbkiFJI-xjvd6E9yT/s1600/bathroom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihNh7z_d66IYluJrHo29oiXlYbxubj89gwOTl-LuMTEYHtRM2heLucA9mevfBeMpTRNETPt-KQFqp-ge3jc3B5u7mJn22u-9wRc3NDigzZv0LrQ1VYHRjvlbJE6_NEbkiFJI-xjvd6E9yT/s400/bathroom.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's really not as grody as it looks...At least that's what I kept telling myself...<br />
Courtesy of Emm.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
That's right. I decided that underneath the sink in the girl's bathroom would be THE best place for me to hide out until time to go let the people in. Our plan was back on track and it would go down flawlessly. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I heard another door slam and footsteps. Crap. What I heard next though put a huge pit in my stomach. (at least seven people who read this will automatically think someone came into the girl's bathroom. Thankfully you are wrong) Someone tried to open another door on the floor and failed. They then inserted a key and unlocked it. We had another problem.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me (via text to Egypt): Dude, we can't do this tonight!</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Egypt: Why? Did they find you?</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: Not yet..but we don't have keys to the classrooms! So even though we're in the building, we have no way of executing our prank!</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Egypt: Crap man! And not to worry you, but people are still in the building. We just saw Monterey Jack through one of the downstairs windows as we drove by. You need to get out now. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: I can't. There's someone else on this floor too. And they have lights turned on...</blockquote>
<br />
<i><a href="http://lifealmostfactual.blogspot.com/2012/07/one-night-of-lawlessness-abortion.html" target="_blank">Continue on to Part 3: Abortion</a></i></div>Indigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-82203936629333419812012-07-03T11:13:00.000-05:002012-07-05T11:13:51.208-05:00One Night of Lawlessness: PlanningSenior Year. If you know anything about me at all, then you probably know that senior year in high school was the worst year of my life. (thus far) I have elected to write three posts, however, that record the happenings of one good night senior year. <i>One Night of Lawlessness.</i><br />
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
This night actually started my sophomore year in high school. I know that sentence makes about as much sense as somebody saying that Britney Spears can't sing but we will leave it because I am about to explain. Patience my young grasshopper. So my sophomore year in high school was Sister's senior year. Sister's class was the very first class at our high school to pull a senior prank. And it was a good one. What they did was fill the halls in our high school with cups full of water. So they were lined wall to wall with water-filled cups down the entire hall. If one desired to walk through the hall they would have to individually move and dump each cup. Did I mention the cups also blocked the path to the bathrooms?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik1xeBEIsEgU4h3sKnwZoQ7tSYS_kyAgBQfCSmbVlJwaSg6l0r9nGX8CIHVK5xaDL9Q_oT_dJkYUcIiS8E4UoT6Lrl351WRp7FlWqkQtI0UpGuOmAo0gCvml8sfWBKnTXXt1zqK7Ad6-Z6/s400/Slide2.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You clever, clever people...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik1xeBEIsEgU4h3sKnwZoQ7tSYS_kyAgBQfCSmbVlJwaSg6l0r9nGX8CIHVK5xaDL9Q_oT_dJkYUcIiS8E4UoT6Lrl351WRp7FlWqkQtI0UpGuOmAo0gCvml8sfWBKnTXXt1zqK7Ad6-Z6/s1600/Slide2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
Hilarious is about a fraction of what this prank truly deserved to be called. Also genius, and crafty among others. This prank was so good, that the next class to graduate decided that there was no way that they could live up to it. So they did nothing. My class was next. We had two choices, go on to live as the class that couldn't quite compare, or do something huge. Something amazing. And of course, something that didn't get us kicked out of school.<br />
<br />
It was about December when this thought hit us. We realized that if we wanted to do something amazing, we would have to plan it out well. And in order to plan it out well, we would have to start right then. So that's what we did. We spent countless minutes (I know hours makes more sense here, but we didn't really spend that much time) looking up senior pranks on the YouTube and none of them pleased us. We would have to figure something out ourselves.<br />
<br />
It was not long before we came up with an awesome idea. We would move all the desks from the classrooms and stack them ceiling-high inside the bathrooms before saran wrapping the doors. It was genius. Well, at least it was better than the year before ours so it was better than nothing. (oh wait, I just said the same thing twice because the year before ours was nothing...)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw-WrXtnZArEtxwuP9qxjRuU58XQER_v1vS2ZP3O3-7Fn839VKrvDW2bEcXtvV16kbO2gcSgCGJDH7VbWo-tuf4g1mXU09_Pb7LQxGdy3kPCiadS4ys52v3c8bURinPGXIo5Rp5wsREU8P/s1600/to-do-list-nothing1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw-WrXtnZArEtxwuP9qxjRuU58XQER_v1vS2ZP3O3-7Fn839VKrvDW2bEcXtvV16kbO2gcSgCGJDH7VbWo-tuf4g1mXU09_Pb7LQxGdy3kPCiadS4ys52v3c8bURinPGXIo5Rp5wsREU8P/s320/to-do-list-nothing1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the actual check list that the class before me went through.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Now that we had figured out what we were going to do it was time to decide how we were to do it. We had to find a way into the building to execute our plan and get out without raising any alarm. This could be tricky. We are very lucky that we began planning this part early. Every plan we had to get into the building fell apart. Right up to the very night of the execution. (it sounds like somebody is going to be killed because of a sin they committed)<br />
<br />
Luckily for us, as our very last plan (or so we thought) failed, we were presented with one more chance to get into the building...<br />
<br />
<i><a href="http://lifealmostfactual.blogspot.com/2012/07/one-night-of-lawlessness-execution.html" target="_blank">Continue on to Part2: Execution</a></i></div>Indigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-68418824780027934792012-06-29T23:56:00.000-05:002012-06-29T23:56:08.614-05:00Spiders Just SuckSo last night was pretty much the worst night I've had in....well forever. As many of you might already know I stayed up pretty late finishing a post about Krampus. And even later having a discussion in the comments section with...a...um...Krampus.... Anyway, when I finally did get to bed it didn't last long.<br />
<br />
I seriously hadn't even laid my head down for two minutes when I felt something fall onto my pillow beside me. I bolted up and turned on my bedside light when I saw a ninja spider. That's right. They have finally found me and are sending troops and ninjas after me. I didn't know what to do. I froze. My eyes were searching for any option of escape. I found a tissue and my Dr. Pepper bank. I quickly grabbed my Dr. Pepper bank and chased the ninja all over my bed before finally dropping it on top of him.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnEog0VpGXyzb9saemfZbLwXq0UAnbuu1iDd8FejTdWZq5oWH_eA5uE4uBfpjjyiTYig41eYNzBwEyRrAUm6xHnVebM7c1T46YzlE2CyB5yWOU9W4Y3qPyIO1UNHvW6rcR-9jDBpaSwIKd/s1600/photo-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnEog0VpGXyzb9saemfZbLwXq0UAnbuu1iDd8FejTdWZq5oWH_eA5uE4uBfpjjyiTYig41eYNzBwEyRrAUm6xHnVebM7c1T46YzlE2CyB5yWOU9W4Y3qPyIO1UNHvW6rcR-9jDBpaSwIKd/s400/photo-2.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The spider was right underneath there. Also, notice the bank says<br />"men's sleep pants." I don't have a clue what that's all about.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This presented me with another few problems. Now that I had the spider trapped, what would I do with it? And what if it was dead? What if it was alive? How was I supposed to sleep in the bed with a Dr. Pepper bank sitting in the middle of it? How was I supposed to sleep knowing I was the target of a spider mafia?<br />
<br />
I decided I would lift up the Dr. Pepper bank and see if the spider really had turned into the Wicked Witch of the East. It hadn't. I muffled a scream and slammed the bank back down onto the spider. So the spider was definitely still alive and I had no way of getting rid of it. I would just have to move myself. So to the office I went to lay down on the couch. The only problem with this is I was paranoid all night that the spiders would find me so I got zero amount of sleep. Do you see how this was a terrible night?? I may be complaining a little, but I feel I have the right to. Mom did end up killing the spider this morning though. But it doesn't change a thing. Spiders just suck.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3199/2728824047_4775ed2f58.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3199/2728824047_4775ed2f58.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I want more back story with the Wicked Witch of the East and how<br />she came to power over the Munchkins...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Indigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-60059101955348711902012-06-29T00:17:00.000-05:002012-06-29T00:18:07.798-05:00St. Krampus in St. Louis (This Post is Scary)So, let me preface this with saying that Krampus is anything but a saint.. BUT, my balanced writing was rather exceptional you must admit. Also I have to say that coming from a family who celebrated Christmas on Memorial Day weekend every year until I was in middle school, I find it perfectly acceptable to write a Halloween themed post the week before Independence Day.<br />
<br />
It was Christmas break, sophomore year. I don't remember what the occasion was but I remember that I was in downtown St. Louis with a large group of people staying in a hotel reminiscent of the movie <i>1408</i>. While I don't remember what <i>I</i> was in St. Louis for, I will never forget why six hundred and something "freaks and creeps" were. The weekend that our trip was scheduled fell on the exact same weekend as a Halloween festival. (yeah, I don't know why the Halloween festival thing was scheduled in the middle of December. Kind of random)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.destroythebrain.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/stl-batboy.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="160" src="http://www.destroythebrain.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/stl-batboy.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">^^ Scary ^^</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
Don't get me wrong when I say "freaks and creeps", I love Halloween just as much as the next guy - I mean what other chance do you get to be whoever you want to be? Wanna be Sweeney Todd? Halloween is your day! Wanna be Gumbi? Halloween is definitely the day for you! Wanna be Hannah Montana? Leave my blog right now and never come back. But for every other rational costume, Halloween is the day to become that other person. The problem arrises when people start becoming very scary. Or skanks. But for this post let's focus on the scary because it's more relevant to the post as a whole. Scary costumes are <i style="font-weight: bold;">not</i> ok. I know that there's that whole "We live in America and we can dress scary if we want", but I'm just not buying it. Scary costumes are almost always done in a extremely tacky way. For instance:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.whyifearclowns.net/image/clown/small/1111/-clown-1321582524.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.whyifearclowns.net/image/clown/small/1111/-clown-1321582524.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">TACKY</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://knoji.com/images/user/Flickr%20Commons%20SuZenDuu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://knoji.com/images/user/Flickr%20Commons%20SuZenDuu.jpg" width="217" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">DOUBLE TACKY</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.par-ty.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/Funny-College-Hallowen-Costume-Ideas.jpg-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.par-ty.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/Funny-College-Hallowen-Costume-Ideas.jpg-2.jpg" width="272" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">EXTREMELY FREAKIN TACKY</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Do you see what I mean? Scary costumes are NOT done in a cool way. Well, this Halloween festival's specialty was extremely scary costumes. And even though most of their costumes weren't necessarily tacky, they were still not ok because every time I left my hotel room I almost peed myself. The encounter with Mr. Krampus was one such moment.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
While I was extremely happy when I found out that our hotel had a Starbucks in it, I was even more upset that it was on the very bottom floor of the hotel. Oh well though, Starbucks was Starbucks so I walked to the elevator and waited for it to stop. I was happy to be waiting with no other passengers because that meant I wouldn't have to fight anybody on my way to get my caffeinated beverage. (Probably a strawberry & creme frap with a shot of espresso)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://cdn.blisstree.com/files/2012/03/Strawberries-Creme-Frappuccino-cochineal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="229" src="http://cdn.blisstree.com/files/2012/03/Strawberries-Creme-Frappuccino-cochineal.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Only picture the cup much, <i style="font-weight: bold;">much</i> bigger.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The elevator arrived and nobody was on it. My day was going lucky. I pushed the button for the bottom floor and watched the elevator doors close. Down one floor and it stopped. Crap. It looked like I would be sharing the elevator. I was however not prepared for what would step onto that elevator next. (If you haven't googled what a Krampus is, you're about to find out)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtpW1yvqfTTd-1D8SJrrA9e-mhyphenhyphenzuVjb9kGZrqxu4_47rXQnSafcvLEMhypxSDrKn0pf_8sjdWm38maYcfaoDFSRwKBXbGuCOb3yMttKTzOGP9gAr4urf1BT4FMbKZj8uaqg4TjhQkq74i/s1600/krampus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtpW1yvqfTTd-1D8SJrrA9e-mhyphenhyphenzuVjb9kGZrqxu4_47rXQnSafcvLEMhypxSDrKn0pf_8sjdWm38maYcfaoDFSRwKBXbGuCOb3yMttKTzOGP9gAr4urf1BT4FMbKZj8uaqg4TjhQkq74i/s400/krampus.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This isn't the actual Krampus that I saw... Probably just an impersonation...<br />
or the real Krampus's cousin. He looks kinda scary to be a fake.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.bgsu.edu/departments/greal/NewAYA/salzburg_info/subpages/images/krampus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://www.bgsu.edu/departments/greal/NewAYA/salzburg_info/subpages/images/krampus.jpg" width="343" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This isn't the real Krampus I saw either. In fact I'm almost positive this one is a fake.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So there I was. And there was the half-goat half-man covered in rusted chains and bells, and with long horns sticking out of his forehead. It seemed like a rational thing to do would be to greet him with a "hey how's it going" but instead, it came out something like this:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: heyouuuu...</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Krampus: *snarl/snort/growl*</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: *pushes button for next floor*</blockquote>
It is safe to say I was terrified. As the elevator doors open and I rushed out I swear I felt him grasp after me barely missing my collar. This was not ok. I decided that a good thing to help me cool down would be to go get my coffee. (I just realized that's kinda punny because my coffee beverage was a frozen one) I quickly walked down the stairs and started looking for the Starbucks.<br />
<br />
I finally found it right on the other side of the elevators and rushed in that direction. Not paying much attention to anything other than my goal, I walked directly into Mr. Krampus as he was coming off the elevator. I remember thinking as my face went into his thick fur that he smelled like cigarette smoke. (I can't wait to see what Google takes from that sentence) Krampus pushed me off of him with another snarl/snort/growl and stared as I ran to the Starbucks like a puppy with his tail between his legs.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.point-spreads.com/images/stories/paula-abdul-broken-nose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="306" src="http://www.point-spreads.com/images/stories/paula-abdul-broken-nose.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I didn't know what to put here but needed another picture.. so here is Paula Abdul with <br />
a broken nose. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Me being the SuperGenius that I am realized when the lady told me how much my drink would cost that I needed money to pay for it. (that was a heifer of a sentence but I didn't know how else to word it. sorry.) This wouldn't be a problem except that my wallet was upstairs.. I turned around and traipsed back toward the elevator. Luckily there was no sign of Krampus. I rode the elevator all the way to my floor, got my wallet and returned to catch the next ride down. There was a chime and the doors opened. Before me stood none other than Krampus himself.<br />
<br />
He welcomed me with a snarl/snort/growl and slid over making room for me. Since there was nobody around I had no option but to step onto the elevator offering up my soul to this beast of a being. I was certain this would be my very last elevator ride. Hopefully the Starbucks cashier would notice I never came back for my drink and send out a search party..<br />
<br />
I pushed the button, turned around, and waited to feel my brain being ripped from the back of my head. The next thing I knew the elevator dinged. The doors opened and before me was the Starbucks. I glanced up at the Krampus and ran across the hall.<br />
<br />
After I paid for my drink, I made my way to the lobby where I found one of my friends I had been traveling with. I quickly started to relay my story. When I finished I looked at him for a response. He said nothing so I prodded. Finally he looked up and said "You mean him?" I looked to the right and saw this:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://ginacobb.typepad.com/gina_cobb/images/2008/08/14/brown_bear_rearing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://ginacobb.typepad.com/gina_cobb/images/2008/08/14/brown_bear_rearing.jpg" width="270" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Only replace all the bear-like features with Krampus-like features<br />
and the back ground with a fancy hotel lobby...<br />
So basically this is not at all what I saw. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The Krampus was listening to my whole story.. (that is assuming Krampus's actually have the ability to listen) He was standing seriously two feet from me and I was paralyzed. He gave me one last snarl/snort/growl and grabbed me by the throat. He lifted me high above his head before throwing me across the room and turning to walk away.<br />
<br />
So, I'm not a hundred percent positive when that story took a turn for the fictional, but I can guarantee you this: Krampus is the MOST scary thing you can ever run into while staying at a fancy hotel in downtown St. Louis. I will take this as point proven that it is much better to dress up as characters from <i>The Wizard of Oz</i> on Halloween than anything remotely goat-like or scary. I win. </div>Indigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-19548191118297133932012-06-20T16:26:00.000-05:002012-06-26T23:57:55.212-05:00...This Disturbs Me.(UPDATED)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjJLJv0439ukRnHhJCooQjKRNqDA3ZKXr2uyG7bDugPDJzCeIsBalexX64WCw3ocxnqCYRVrsnwn59edkatBMEPfU0mesbauJLx1TvVtKDDiS3EngaTb4eReTPR4-QXOEpFj2VFzwI6m8T/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-06-20+at+4.20.35+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="91" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjJLJv0439ukRnHhJCooQjKRNqDA3ZKXr2uyG7bDugPDJzCeIsBalexX64WCw3ocxnqCYRVrsnwn59edkatBMEPfU0mesbauJLx1TvVtKDDiS3EngaTb4eReTPR4-QXOEpFj2VFzwI6m8T/s640/Screen+Shot+2012-06-20+at+4.20.35+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
Do I seriously need to write any more than what the title of this post says?! Or can you figure it out yourself? I mean I am slightly grossed out that it would be searched in the first place, but absolutely APPALLED that Google would lead this person to my blog and they would click on it!!<br />
<br />
Also, might I point out that it is slightly in appropriate to refer to a cartoon character in that way?<br />
<br />
OH! And don't even get me started on the search about SpongeBob!<br />
<br />
<b>UPDATE**</b><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglseVN9Dh-jsmCrjskRn1yDBiKUQ_b4Iy9EAkf-QWly1x4a0EniWYr7z-dOMHfwmp_bW2BAFRziQOKV59fCFF9iC6oxEEWpevf13QZPO6f1ihegqP6vi4bbkicIVc8KUpphVciHyu8pGi6/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-06-26+at+11.53.59+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="395" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglseVN9Dh-jsmCrjskRn1yDBiKUQ_b4Iy9EAkf-QWly1x4a0EniWYr7z-dOMHfwmp_bW2BAFRziQOKV59fCFF9iC6oxEEWpevf13QZPO6f1ihegqP6vi4bbkicIVc8KUpphVciHyu8pGi6/s400/Screen+Shot+2012-06-26+at+11.53.59+PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As it turns out, if you search that, I am the very last result on the first page.<br />
I am giving everybody a challenge! I WANT TO BE NUMBER ONE!!!!<br />
Google search "spongebob squarepants thong underwear for men" and follow<br />
the link to my blog repeatedly and let's watch it move up the line! Together, we<br />
can take over the internet!!!!! WE ARE SPARTA!!!!!!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Indigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-19523925039620740652012-06-16T17:07:00.000-05:002012-06-16T17:07:06.243-05:00Stomach: NOM NOM!!So, I'm sitting by a hospital bed as I write this, (don't worry, all is well. Mother simply had a small surgery) and I haven't eaten anything since lunch. For lunch I had an Uncrustable. It was decent but not satisfactory. And I am <i style="font-weight: bold;">starving</i>. I know that most of you are reading this and saying "No you aren't. Little kids in Africa are starving!" Not to minimize the seriousness of world hunger, but:<a name='more'></a><div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><i><u>I'M STARVING!!!!!!!!!!</u></i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
You see, right now, I am about to start stealing hospital food from Mother. I'm not even kidding. In fact, I think my stomach is about to start eating itself. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTe4q1E5WO2IxLyFIAH4Nv9QW_q6SMbPxF16DDf_r-t3uJCz32e2bydSk4KXXKogNt7qzxNE5FL3M1oNsbyIzJfgGRQF7T4zN8edrzVwEt7rI6eqiWRSO723V_RSNRRyL33nyZJ4w8l1JP/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-06-16+at+4.43.36+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTe4q1E5WO2IxLyFIAH4Nv9QW_q6SMbPxF16DDf_r-t3uJCz32e2bydSk4KXXKogNt7qzxNE5FL3M1oNsbyIzJfgGRQF7T4zN8edrzVwEt7rI6eqiWRSO723V_RSNRRyL33nyZJ4w8l1JP/s320/Screen+Shot+2012-06-16+at+4.43.36+PM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cannibalism. Also, the web is there to show lack of activity...<br />I do not have any spiders on my insides.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /><div>
Do you see the seriousness here? Let me refer you back to the graphic. Those lines on the stomach are it's ribs sticking out because it's losing so much weight. The green color is because it's sick from not eating. I'm pretty sure that's how you contract salmonella. So I would think that I could lump myself in with the African children and say I am starving. Needless to say I am ready to eat... It will happen eventually. I'm sure.. Maybe.... </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Also, I normally don't write posts to complain. But I was texting Anonymous (no, I don't think this is any of the rude Anonymous's that comment on here) and they were really unsupportive.. Look! </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHYze5H4MhAbv5RYWhE0m-_IV85rmorK8UEI1VYuOtaYE_SLh9oqxQExcY0WI8vF5chlvjdVgxBk0p-AripnmB23-3d6j27cZwHVRnm-oksVgtm7DT9eYKoSY7WykFu_q-1zqyfHDy8U0G/s1600/IMG_0546.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHYze5H4MhAbv5RYWhE0m-_IV85rmorK8UEI1VYuOtaYE_SLh9oqxQExcY0WI8vF5chlvjdVgxBk0p-AripnmB23-3d6j27cZwHVRnm-oksVgtm7DT9eYKoSY7WykFu_q-1zqyfHDy8U0G/s400/IMG_0546.png" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See how unsupportive Anonymous is being??</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN9AH8jUaNYUR6KFxv1qmeAjFSPKscbhG9gni3GEZ8suXlBv_xvQCHfUdk__oQZiC8sgDUKaJxtmD0NrUzdhbAZ3xgU4Dtj3prvFzBENiSrxlIGsfrkEL6zXy7e5DlwuiAaGJcZCQWoCoM/s1600/IMG_1204.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN9AH8jUaNYUR6KFxv1qmeAjFSPKscbhG9gni3GEZ8suXlBv_xvQCHfUdk__oQZiC8sgDUKaJxtmD0NrUzdhbAZ3xgU4Dtj3prvFzBENiSrxlIGsfrkEL6zXy7e5DlwuiAaGJcZCQWoCoM/s400/IMG_1204.png" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See how they just dropped ten levels after another text?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /><div>
This is NOT acceptable...<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /><div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>Indigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-4400452447081508432012-06-16T11:00:00.000-05:002012-06-16T11:00:06.027-05:00My Lazy Problem (part2)I'm so lazy that I'm not even going to finish this post. That is allIndigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-16586602629027574892012-06-15T14:10:00.001-05:002012-06-15T14:10:50.830-05:00A Story for Emm<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
A really good friend of mine chewed me out yesterday when she read <a href="http://lifealmostfactual.blogspot.com/2012/06/adventure-time-with-amigop-my-life-is.html" target="_blank">my post about my adventure with Amigop</a>. She was really upset that I would even consider littering in the first place. And she has a excellent point. I don't normally litter I promise. I truly do love our planet as much as the next guy and just to prove to you (and to Emm) that I very rarely partake in such shenanigans I have a story. It is a story of my conversion from a litterer to a non-litterer that took place my junior year in high school. (Also, Emm is one of my few blogger friends that I have actually hung out with in person - heck I trusted her to dye my hair - so you should definitely take a look at her blog. There's a link in my sidebar)</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh04FH62kJcn4EGCxdYdQ43afzpVxgwrXrOvLk8IsZYWhuch8h6In4WPYY-kf6pi1mZ2rFlOWeE_oCBUprT98M99ABgzNg2Lvoo4izqMpJ2MrOLaL8HESauYMLZ3z1gkKxc5zwmFtMO2mnz/s1600/Emm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh04FH62kJcn4EGCxdYdQ43afzpVxgwrXrOvLk8IsZYWhuch8h6In4WPYY-kf6pi1mZ2rFlOWeE_oCBUprT98M99ABgzNg2Lvoo4izqMpJ2MrOLaL8HESauYMLZ3z1gkKxc5zwmFtMO2mnz/s320/Emm.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I had a caption here but accidentally deleted it and don't remember<br />
what it was...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a name='more'></a><br />
It is a known fact that Hardee's has THE best fast food milkshakes ever. Period. No exceptions. No discussion. So when I went and purchased one on my very own for the first time, (I had just recently earned my license) I was in a super great mood. That is until I realized I just spent the very last of my cash to buy a milkshake. My SuperGenius mind thought through all the different options of what to do.<br />
<br />
I decided that since I officially could do as I pleased when it came to driving, I would simply drive down to the bank and withdraw some cash. I rolled the windows down, put on my stunna shades, and turned up Britney - probably Womanizer.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqDlGIFYojJxcSaw16GiY1TZ-VKyruT_syrqPd4p3oBXi_1zNcdwtwDQKyXiBjfH6krdNhOIwemgLMdZQkbIBOvAuQXjec_ZAPwrzbhVEJiwbWOKvaUxvOLS1XE5dAF3eez3eGZMNJD_2_/s1600/stunnashades.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqDlGIFYojJxcSaw16GiY1TZ-VKyruT_syrqPd4p3oBXi_1zNcdwtwDQKyXiBjfH6krdNhOIwemgLMdZQkbIBOvAuQXjec_ZAPwrzbhVEJiwbWOKvaUxvOLS1XE5dAF3eez3eGZMNJD_2_/s320/stunnashades.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These are my stunna shades. And this is a terrible picture.<br />If you are wondering what the shirt is about, BIL's nephew has<br />juvenile diabetes and it is a shirt to raise awareness of that and<br />to support him at the same time. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
As I pulled out of the the bank with a now thicker wallet, I realized how cluttered my front seat looked. We could not be having this inside The Sexual. I didn't see any trash cans near me and I was at a stop light in the middle of down town.. solution: it's just a straw wrapper, it won't hurt anything. Out the window it went.<br />
<br />
I know that I have a bit of habit of exaggerating things. This is NOT one of those times. Before the straw wrapper hit the ground, a bee flew in my window. As most of you know, <a href="http://lifealmostfactual.blogspot.com/2012/04/spiders-are-worse-than-dogs-part1.html" target="_blank">I am terrified of spiders.</a> Something that hasn't yet crossed over to my blog life is that this terror also includes any other insect, only not quite to the degree of spiders. So as the black and yellow banded death dealer (double alliteration. I think yes. I win) flew through my window and right in front of my face, I promptly screamed, closed my eyes, and floored it. I still don't have a clue what color the light was when I went, or even if I was in any danger of getting hit. I like to think that it was green and I had the right of way but judging by the sound of horns honking, it probably was not so... That is unless they were trying to warn me of the sharp bottomed being hovering above my passenger seat.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjknCwp1iYhbP23-lV-ArAiIcDw7j2ZKBkXrvoDy0i_JobbEa07vRtu8oS8RJtlS939y-ZeLLeoviyKm1LmJagTGca2p42X_wtb-lHLum_A-IdDt_Nz3kwzz5s9bDPPSSUPPCD1PoQIusk/s400/bees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjknCwp1iYhbP23-lV-ArAiIcDw7j2ZKBkXrvoDy0i_JobbEa07vRtu8oS8RJtlS939y-ZeLLeoviyKm1LmJagTGca2p42X_wtb-lHLum_A-IdDt_Nz3kwzz5s9bDPPSSUPPCD1PoQIusk/s400/bees.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what the media wants you to think bees are like...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_-TIozYxwlL-ChWZquD3HjIPHe0HfleoDpFGXKrMdQ2AAs1AWvpJCYcr19-ybb1eB-E12dHMV-EPjPpregqTHqdGNZjnXWsAMFQNaoWKfN9mcjc40Rrk3dyL_Js_sJQz-qkIvC7RqG0aY/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-06-15+at+1.28.55+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_-TIozYxwlL-ChWZquD3HjIPHe0HfleoDpFGXKrMdQ2AAs1AWvpJCYcr19-ybb1eB-E12dHMV-EPjPpregqTHqdGNZjnXWsAMFQNaoWKfN9mcjc40Rrk3dyL_Js_sJQz-qkIvC7RqG0aY/s400/Screen+Shot+2012-06-15+at+1.28.55+PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what I am here to tell you they are really like. <br /><a href="http://lifealmostfactual.blogspot.com/2012/05/what-i-have-in-common-with-keha.html" target="_blank">Also, I would like Glenn to tell me again that there is no talent..!</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After about fifteen seconds of blind driving I decided it was time for me to open my eyes again. (in most situations I would never recommend driving with your eyes closed but this is special circumstances) Opening my eyes was a bad idea. As I opened them I noticed a black and yellow splotch on the steering wheel. Natural instinct? I hit it. I am not sure what possessed me to strike a violent being with a poison spewing syringe for a butt - especially since I'm to scared to even kill a grasshopper - but I did it. And it stung me.<br />
<br />
Whoever says that bees can only sting once, have not been stung by a persistent bee. I swear this bee stung me at least seven times. I even have a scar to prove one of the times.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi60dZanyYGHGdV9acpLG-kwkG7CNy_gE7CRnHYhLU90f9m7LXT3cqjwwR2wtCETP3mfbLS77pR1NnByifgnOmvTjPnq-OUy3BQlBUAxZPfNzDcCuNAxyuIlGIUrS5ylF-8XKbQQeq2OFzn/s1600/bumble+bee1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi60dZanyYGHGdV9acpLG-kwkG7CNy_gE7CRnHYhLU90f9m7LXT3cqjwwR2wtCETP3mfbLS77pR1NnByifgnOmvTjPnq-OUy3BQlBUAxZPfNzDcCuNAxyuIlGIUrS5ylF-8XKbQQeq2OFzn/s320/bumble+bee1.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bee may or may not have actually been the origin of this scar...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Eventually I produced enough force from my flailing in agony to fling the mutant bee out the window. It was at this time that I realized that the bee was probably sent from God. When I littered, God sent the bee to teach me that littering is a no-no, and <a href="http://lifealmostfactual.blogspot.com/2012/06/adventure-time-with-amigop-my-life-is.html" target="_blank">if I do it again, something else bad will happen. </a> And it did. But hey, just one slip off the wagon doesn't mean that I have fallen totally off...Right?<br />
<br />
Also, Emm, You're welcome.Indigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-71324819302868230622012-06-15T11:05:00.000-05:002012-06-15T11:05:12.305-05:00Just to Fill You In...Just a post to fill everybody in on where I have been this week. There are many, many excuses for why I have not finished a single post in now over a week. Trust me I have tried, but it just has not happened. I have about six really good posts and I've tried to work on every single one but have not been able to focus. I am not sure if I have tried to get back to work too soon after the loss of my grandmother, or if I simply needed a break to let my mind settle. I still am not sure whether or not my mind is ready to be all the way back at top potential for writing but I will do my best. In fact, right after I finish this post I am going to try really hard again to get another good post out. But do know, that I have not lost interest in writing or anything like that. I simply needed a small break and will be back at full force soon.<br />
Much Love -IndiIndigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-18518902662383434862012-06-05T10:44:00.001-05:002012-06-12T18:35:46.740-05:00Make a Joyful Noise (as long as your voice doesn't sound like a monkey drowning in a barrel of acid)As I was in the shower today something very odd happened. And even though I am just now admitting it publicly, this is not at all the first time this has happened. It actually happens quite often.<br />
<br />
This morning started out normal. I woke up, laid in bed for a couple hours as I still don't have a job and then decided it was time to get up and take a shower. I went to the bathroom and did my usual summer routine of turning on the water to let it heat up before plugging my phone into some speakers so I could jam while refreshing/cleaning myself. Today I chose a playlist comprised of Britney Spears, Rihanna, and Lady GaGa.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.an-mag.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/britney.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://www.an-mag.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/britney.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Weird thing is Britney's head is really on Britney's body....was the cut<br />
and paste really necessary there? </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a name='more'></a><br />
This particular playlist I picked is equipped with some of the awesomest dance beats ever created. There is only one problem: I <i>can't</i> dance. At all. I know what you're thinking right now, and you're wrong. I'm not just being modest. I really and truly can't dance worth anything. It's almost as if I somehow got the dancing skills of a rhinoceros. (I Google'd it and rhinoceros's can't dance. It's a proven fact)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.thedadproject.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/100621-2rhinoFull1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://www.thedadproject.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/100621-2rhinoFull1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ok, I lied. Dancing Rhino's are EVERYWHERE on Google.<br />
But look! They obviously dance like white kids...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
As I started my crazy mad dance skills to Born This Way - Lady GaGa, I started thinking about how lucky the rest of the world was as my showers are a very private matter (except of course what I post about them on here...) and nobody has ever seen my dancing before/during them except God.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVhVrie0zc3pC5DST-Ila0DQ2ULYPmXEA1oqf5dLBVWRs2e9tdFKPrG_JPfwg8Ig256jIkhClqjK8HFc7HvDLV1Ju7u4u1AeeKjgGbmJme3PAvqW4bMGwEdKLYsjqEYFTg6HZk7FqCEiXe/s1600/BTW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVhVrie0zc3pC5DST-Ila0DQ2ULYPmXEA1oqf5dLBVWRs2e9tdFKPrG_JPfwg8Ig256jIkhClqjK8HFc7HvDLV1Ju7u4u1AeeKjgGbmJme3PAvqW4bMGwEdKLYsjqEYFTg6HZk7FqCEiXe/s320/BTW.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Song #1</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The last two words of that thought are what caught me.. God could see me dancing. <i style="font-weight: bold;">HOW EMBARRASSING!!!!!</i> Seriously I looked like an idiot and thought that nobody could see me until I realized that God pretty much had a front row seat to watching me wiggle around crazily to Lady GaGa. I am not sure that God really cares about it, in fact he probably finds the sight quite amusing. But I still get embarrassed at the thought that ANYBODY would see me making such a fool out of myself.<br />
<br />
So I stop dancing. Then Love The Way You Lie (Pt. 2) - Rihanna comes on. If you have ever heard this song then you know it's not really a flailing-across-the-shower-dancing-like-an-idiot kind of song. (if you haven't heard it then open a tab and watch it on YouTube. Right now) However, with it being a bit of a ballad, the song encourages me to sing it as passionately and soulfully as I can. Almost as if I, myself were the one being abused. Along with passion and soul for some reason comes volume with me.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ViCIRkQjMA7V1mTi792mzBY0K91o9lEOe3ADFAZZFp2T4ddYO_fsovz784SUEq87g36LNXLcCIGthwp23LLUKFSTlj36XPK8eRIBHmuL3KlZWREQb5fem_LjRwSHCbChHeAX-ox9nt18/s1600/Love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ViCIRkQjMA7V1mTi792mzBY0K91o9lEOe3ADFAZZFp2T4ddYO_fsovz784SUEq87g36LNXLcCIGthwp23LLUKFSTlj36XPK8eRIBHmuL3KlZWREQb5fem_LjRwSHCbChHeAX-ox9nt18/s320/Love.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Song #2</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Now I will fill you in on another secret. My singing ability is about three steps worse than my dancing ability. As I was belting out verse two I realized that I had now been soulfully singing at the top of my lungs for almost a whole song. I mentally went through a checklist of my family to make sure where everybody was so that I could be positive that nobody heard me singing. Nobody was home thank God.... Crap. God. Again. I shut up promptly.<br />
<br />
I know that there is a scripture somewhere about making a joyful noise and that technically as long as it's joyful then it doesn't matter how your voice sounds to God. Well, that's all fine and dandy but whoever wrote that verse obviously had not heard me sing or else he totally would have written something different. Probably something closer to "Make a joyful noise as long as your voice doesn't sound like a monkey drowning in a barrel of acid." At least that's how I would've written it after hearing my voice.<br />
<br />
This seems like a pretty good place to end the post. Or at least it would seem that way if there wasn't more... As I was drying off after the embarrassing shower, Criminal - Britney Spears came on. As many of you know, Britney is my biggest vice. She is the one that <i style="font-weight: bold;">made</i> pop music as far as I am concerned. So as I am getting out of the shower, I am not only belting out Criminal at the top of my lungs and dancing, but I am towel dancing to it. It's amazing how quickly I will forget the embarrassment factor when Britney comes on the radio.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxWZ_CcULyeNmuIeTB25dJWvSwqvavJlymrYOdA375GKuphJRBFTk3y2mHy78iePbhtOwumQU6Gg-lbpiS_YFfYr02nD6pxkZAutvdt3rndECSws19_zy-HHw-SLiRXJ-sxoEZtFQT8NV-/s1600/Criminal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxWZ_CcULyeNmuIeTB25dJWvSwqvavJlymrYOdA375GKuphJRBFTk3y2mHy78iePbhtOwumQU6Gg-lbpiS_YFfYr02nD6pxkZAutvdt3rndECSws19_zy-HHw-SLiRXJ-sxoEZtFQT8NV-/s320/Criminal.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Song #infinity (also notice the drop in wifi signal<br />
because the overload of awesomeness)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I must inform you that even when I realized what I was doing, I continued doing it anyway with the Britney song. I mean I'm pretty sure that God does the exact same thing when Britney comes on His radio too. So no embarrassment there.Indigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-16521583701164327252012-06-02T19:00:00.000-05:002012-06-02T19:00:29.535-05:00We Have to Say... Sexual<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
A comment was just left on my blog that looked like this: </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_MkadcYABE1S6Aq2Uojx8Ev4N-DMFIeCP_DMcAv63Wxs4R-kOrqLEdIhE1oVjlEDoFWREgNB6B4iwtCXBgIHVucLxmyrJSL12lEuRra0pF_Nbj0Yfd2f9Goz5QnMiou4NABTNuTqMfeMe/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-06-02+at+6.32.00+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_MkadcYABE1S6Aq2Uojx8Ev4N-DMFIeCP_DMcAv63Wxs4R-kOrqLEdIhE1oVjlEDoFWREgNB6B4iwtCXBgIHVucLxmyrJSL12lEuRra0pF_Nbj0Yfd2f9Goz5QnMiou4NABTNuTqMfeMe/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-06-02+at+6.32.00+PM.png" /></a></div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Well, in response, I have to say, I would take your comment way more seriously if you didn't hide behind anonymity. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
This is how I look at it, you're probably a really nice person, in fact, I probably like you a great deal. (just a guess) But your complaint is quite simply irrelevant. Don't get me wrong, I would be more than happy to call the Sexual by something other than her name....but I can't. You see, Sexual is her name. And to change her name now would be nothing but confusing to her. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
In response to this, you may say Mr. Anonymous Commenter, that I give everyone else in my blog nicknames, why not give Sexual a nickname? The answer to this question is very quite simple. When I give nicknames to people, that is to protect their identity. But, the person I am talking about already knows who they are. And as much as I love Sexual, she just would become so confused if I started calling her something other than her name. I'm sure you understand. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I have one more problem with me calling Sexual something other than her name. If I were to call her something different, such as "Un-Sexual" than that would simply be lying because I mean look at her - she's the prettiest dang car I've seen in a while! And I'm just not a liar. I don't roll like that homie. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
But thank you for your concern Mr. Anonymity. I assure you that your comment was taken with a grain of salt. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b><i>A Note From Indi: As the author of this blog [Life (Almost) Factual], I would like to take this opportunity to say that this post was written in good humor. I will admit that I do not share the concern of the commenter, but do respect his or her opinion. I am in no way lessening the right that he or she holds to have and voice an opinion, I am simply saying in a comical way that his or her opinion is wrong. If I were worried one bit about losing a reader - or if I did not read this comment through the eyes of comedy - I would not be writing this post. So please read only what is on the screen and nothing more into it. Much Love! -Indi</i></b></div>Indigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-88249185687800017412012-06-02T11:54:00.000-05:002012-06-02T11:54:02.420-05:00My Nipples Are Seasick...If the title of this post kinda freaked you out, and you just threw up a little in your mouth at the thought of a post about my nipples, then congrats. I am impressed by your ability to think all of that and still be reading the post anyway. What a trooper! If you saw the title to the post and thought nothing of it, you've known me too long.<br />
<br />
So on my most recent cruise, I met a very funny girl named Root1 and her younger sister Root2. These Roots were very interesting to hang around because they were constantly hyper beyond belief. During one of their fits of over-hyperness, (yes I realize that is not a word and no I don't care) Root1 had an excellent thought.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Root1: Hey Indi, what would you look like if you only had one nipple?</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: Ummm.... I'm not sure I totally understand the question...?</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Root1: You know, if you only had one nipple, what would you look like?</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: Well to be quite honest I wouldn't know, I was born with two nipples so that's how I know myself.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Root1: Oh.... Do you think we could find out what you would look like with one nipple? I bet it would look hilarious.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: You are NOT cutting off one of my nipples - isn't trying to brand me enough for one day? (we will share that story later)</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Root1: Oh come on Indi! It will be fun! </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: Absolutely not. If you can find a way to keep me from having to cut one off then we will see what I look like but only then.</blockquote>
Do you ever sometimes say something just to appease somebody not expecting it to actually happen? (that was a great many compound words starting with the word "some")<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Root1: OK! You can wear my seasick patch over one! </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: HECK NO! That thing has been behind your ear for almost a whole week!</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Root1: But Indi! You promised!!</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: Fine. But only for like two seconds for you to see what I would look like with only one nipple. </blockquote>
I'll go ahead and tell you that I wasn't allowed to take off the seasick patch until ALL of our friends had seen what I would look like with one nipple... sigh. Curse you Roots and your abilities to confuse me into doing things!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizmmeIKgu-8fHf_3jo11MbKSbd4OdXu-21RE2H7cOn-m7F29ZreuF6Xsu-rA5UbhOT6v2Vl3_NY1BYkWHS06aUe2IMokTDwbzM4Ch9-AcUmkXN3F8RICZcav5wT8ELrPdV7GRX02E7K_ef/s1600/Roots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizmmeIKgu-8fHf_3jo11MbKSbd4OdXu-21RE2H7cOn-m7F29ZreuF6Xsu-rA5UbhOT6v2Vl3_NY1BYkWHS06aUe2IMokTDwbzM4Ch9-AcUmkXN3F8RICZcav5wT8ELrPdV7GRX02E7K_ef/s320/Roots.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look! It's the Roots! And some kid with glasses!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Indigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-59304366307168937532012-06-01T11:35:00.002-05:002012-06-15T12:50:27.581-05:00Adventure Time With Amigop (My Life is a Movie)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I am a SuperGenius. There isn't a whole lot more to that statement. It simply is what it is. There is one problem though, even though I am a SuperGenius, I rarely take the time to think out my SuperGenius ideas before executing them. So even though my ideas are excellent, they almost ALWAYS have terrible outcomes.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWLv_BM1hhpAL-JswYhCZdTj-uDJMg9L3vw2yoXG8F_HzjipSMprlQHYtBNMVuehfsQGNfH9s3JGV4vH9xe5Xlb9PquvB1Zt8jNEIr-4wqyyR_ZCAjDYczslzRade4yIsuwIl2pmCzVT4/s1600/wile+e+coyote+super+genius.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWLv_BM1hhpAL-JswYhCZdTj-uDJMg9L3vw2yoXG8F_HzjipSMprlQHYtBNMVuehfsQGNfH9s3JGV4vH9xe5Xlb9PquvB1Zt8jNEIr-4wqyyR_ZCAjDYczslzRade4yIsuwIl2pmCzVT4/s320/wile+e+coyote+super+genius.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apparently I share this trait with Wile E Coyote because if you Google<br />
search "super genius" you find a crap ton of pictures of him.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
Lately I have been having some trouble keeping the inside of the Sexual clean. It's not that I'm a trashy person, it's just that lately I've had a great deal more people riding in my car and they are trashy people. So because I never have enough time to breathe, I decided that I probably wouldn't get a chance to clean out my car for a while. My solution: clean it out while I'm driving so I don't lose any time AND I'm giving birds more materials to make their nests. I'm such a nice guy. Pause reading for a minute and go nominate me for a Nobel Prize. (<a href="http://www.nobelprize.org/" target="_blank">here's a link to their website.. you can figure it out from there</a>)<br />
<br />
I started cleaning the little section behind my gear shift and below my A/C controls. That took quite a while. Who knew I could've had so much junk in there. And then to top it all off, there were crumbs of some sort all over the rubber insert thingy. But that's ok. I'm a SuperGenius. I simply took out the insert, rolled down my window, and shook it out while driving down the road. Problem solved. Now to move on to the cup holder.<br />
<br />
My cup holder was in much worse shape than my first cleaning section (I honestly don't have a clue what that area is called) so after tearing up about 73 bank receipts and watching them blow out the window like confetti, it was time to repeat the process with the rubber insert thingy of the cup holder. Only this one was nastier. Much, much nastier. Because it was much nastier, I figured this would require me to hold it out the window longer. This logic makes sense, there was only one problem. Instead of holding it out the window like I had planned, I threw the cup holder insert thingy out the window without realizing what I was doing.<br />
<br />
Crap.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaqoYQhIuNcVHtuWo002KQwG3OD5IXgMMW7A67zsCT8Ngii4qc-u7Fx-OrOsbJcBwsFU7Sqq21NVsI25v0e5hriVWIcZ0Yx9GIy2oa5d_aD81FyW0Lb8SrujdYLkjXW1sjhaO-svW04I_K/s1600/sad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaqoYQhIuNcVHtuWo002KQwG3OD5IXgMMW7A67zsCT8Ngii4qc-u7Fx-OrOsbJcBwsFU7Sqq21NVsI25v0e5hriVWIcZ0Yx9GIy2oa5d_aD81FyW0Lb8SrujdYLkjXW1sjhaO-svW04I_K/s320/sad.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:( it's missing.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I looked to see if I could pull over safely. I could not because a semi was tailing me. And even if I could I'm not sure I would've. I had many errands to run and was on a deadline. I would have to go back and look for it later.<br />
<br />
It was at this time that I got another SuperGenius idea. If I had someone come with me to look for it, then I would at least have company.... I called Amigop. She didn't seem to understand the urgency of the situation. She also couldn't grasp why I threw part of my car out the window. I think she was implying I'm a terrible car owner.<br />
<br />
After I ran my errands, Amigop and I drove out to the general area where I thought I had lost my cup holder insert and started walking. And we walked for quite a while. Then something happened that made me feel like we were in a movie. It started raining. And not just like sprinkle raining either, I mean it was pouring. After about two seconds we were drenched. Amigop thought that meant the hunt was over but I was persistent.<br />
<br />
We kept walking and about two minutes later Amigop screamed. Snake? Bear? Ninja? Nope. She found my cup holder!!! I was elated!! As I was running to where she stood all of a sudden the rain stopped and the sun came out like there was never any rain to begin with. Seriously, this would have been THE perfect moment for a hidden film crew to be following us because it was better than that scene in the Notebook when it's raining and they kiss because Trixie threw up dark chocolate. (I tried really hard to find this video clip for you but it is literally NOWHERE on the internet to be found. I did however find a <a href="http://popwatch.ew.com/2010/11/11/sprint-notebook-spoof-silence-cell-phones/" target="_blank">short article that plays out the scene</a>)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7463wjj62vhHknGW72faHzzyBI36_xm1DaTlkb7eJO87SqIoYFYh31qtveEIjEk4hZXm5SBu7BdGEKH9tFsWDCQ5bb6_cMEhFmdZUFjoySJo8Rsn9kUFgcu1OlleTHmNB8R2tIT-fpNXh/s1600/yay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7463wjj62vhHknGW72faHzzyBI36_xm1DaTlkb7eJO87SqIoYFYh31qtveEIjEk4hZXm5SBu7BdGEKH9tFsWDCQ5bb6_cMEhFmdZUFjoySJo8Rsn9kUFgcu1OlleTHmNB8R2tIT-fpNXh/s320/yay.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">YAY!!!! happy picture! (ignore my toes)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvoRqfsW28aWA7hGAKneaysHH0eGUsRC63jmAoXGJWsq2w0_b5XcqJMrxaTjKDIU5SM8Oz6-pCpC_3NGvAGFTknCJ6ethBjvlzroA1YJwyjdC-SqB8_p2IqnvmsJXxr-7cUb92O8EY_92Q/s1600/victory.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvoRqfsW28aWA7hGAKneaysHH0eGUsRC63jmAoXGJWsq2w0_b5XcqJMrxaTjKDIU5SM8Oz6-pCpC_3NGvAGFTknCJ6ethBjvlzroA1YJwyjdC-SqB8_p2IqnvmsJXxr-7cUb92O8EY_92Q/s320/victory.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our victory walk back to the car.. the ground looks surprisingly<br />
dry. Oh! and notice the dirt still attached. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
As we got back in the car, I noticed that the cup holder insert thingy was still really dirty. So my solution: I held it out the window as I was driving in hopes of cleaning it off. This time I held on tight and guess what! It worked. Told you I'm a SuperGenius.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLiLpHRn_AJR8vkugrn_hPoFIKnGQDW_YEubkO8WV0RZfPnOCJhUU6A8DBydmkGeEPgdDrZsMDylt58hVh9FEeoxFOsNcMRZ6tN2WPiQCfWDkE7Fshv6Hc944BwDqLzJsQRe54bwviuNFS/s1600/home.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLiLpHRn_AJR8vkugrn_hPoFIKnGQDW_YEubkO8WV0RZfPnOCJhUU6A8DBydmkGeEPgdDrZsMDylt58hVh9FEeoxFOsNcMRZ6tN2WPiQCfWDkE7Fshv6Hc944BwDqLzJsQRe54bwviuNFS/s320/home.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">YAY!!! Home at last. Reunited and it feels so good!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Also, for some reason Amigop wouldn't give me gas money for driving her to help me find my insert thingy. What a free loader.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIC-Zq83e2jTFbhtZ7aNaEX2o-99Bb__3VtJC_rktCyqOzSmkwVgKzHLHKxn4JrUlXucaEcqG6onVKqu9FXLtkfq22MyCe14_3uB2kF9Qy4ORscRkO1wFwG5XCkUGCPm108Dtg8pKOMccC/s1600/graduationd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIC-Zq83e2jTFbhtZ7aNaEX2o-99Bb__3VtJC_rktCyqOzSmkwVgKzHLHKxn4JrUlXucaEcqG6onVKqu9FXLtkfq22MyCe14_3uB2kF9Qy4ORscRkO1wFwG5XCkUGCPm108Dtg8pKOMccC/s320/graduationd.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is my favorite picture of me and Amigop.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Indigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-63606819007049221302012-05-31T21:08:00.000-05:002012-05-31T21:08:02.556-05:00I Felt Up a Old Lady's Bark<i>I found this post in my "drafts" folder. I started it a month or so ago and for some reason never finished it. Because Granny is on her death bed right now, I figured it would be a good time to go ahead and finish it, and publish it in honor of her and her life. I love you Granny and cannot wait to be able to be with you again - this time for eternity. I will always remember the last words you said to me: "I love you, can't wait to see you in heaven." Also, the title is in NO way referring to my grandmother, or any other person for that matter..You will have to read the post for it to make sense.</i><br />
<i>Much Love! -Indi </i><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtNqTUAqgimzWdhOCMYqa-x0sEneaJkhx8TUqyJo0RAVphsABvul4BwUcSe3qqQWzgvJQV50hKPQUP1wDDqR89FSWBLgBjurqHZGYPI56gGaKEEuwTcL8bLYprJJCkxlLxbrns-dEpzq8u/s1600/GrannyandI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtNqTUAqgimzWdhOCMYqa-x0sEneaJkhx8TUqyJo0RAVphsABvul4BwUcSe3qqQWzgvJQV50hKPQUP1wDDqR89FSWBLgBjurqHZGYPI56gGaKEEuwTcL8bLYprJJCkxlLxbrns-dEpzq8u/s1600/GrannyandI.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(A few years old but I love this picture)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a name='more'></a><br />
For those of you who do not know me personally, my grandmother has a very nice lifestyle. She lives in a retired air force village for widows in Florida where she has friends, and people to do basically whatever she wants them to. (also it kind of reminds me of where the Others from LOST live) She has it nice. And occasionally I get the chance to go visit her and experience this nice life with her.<br />
<br />
Now, if you have ever seen this village, it is rather large. And every single thing in it looks exactly the same. So it is quite easy to get lost if you are not familiar with it. The accommodations are very nice however. There is even a nice big in-ground pool.<br />
<br />
One day, Granny took Mother, Sister, and me to the pool. Because we were walking in a group, I didn't feel the need to pay too close attention to the way we were going to get there. After all we did have Granny to help lead us through the large maze of garden gnomes and fake plants.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6kQX22ZEJf3MiPR6KuLtqdChjWkS-x0x2W0N5glyrFiSn7S2OxyaSGURp70_F_fWACNDzjJdCdxw_gB-lNsrx5o2t2Cr6Txl7DPOPsigJkRSLExTrWCDOICPruaUGWjFYVO0hZhX5lkcX/s1600/gnome.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6kQX22ZEJf3MiPR6KuLtqdChjWkS-x0x2W0N5glyrFiSn7S2OxyaSGURp70_F_fWACNDzjJdCdxw_gB-lNsrx5o2t2Cr6Txl7DPOPsigJkRSLExTrWCDOICPruaUGWjFYVO0hZhX5lkcX/s1600/gnome.gif" /></a></div>
<br />
As we were swimming in the pool, (which by the way has Bob Hope's face on the bottom of it) I got a genius idea. I would swim across the pool underwater and grab Sister's legs forcing her to fall into the water and get her hair wet. This was a really poorly thought out plan. As I got close to where I thought she might be, I realized I couldn't find her because my eyes were closed. Solution: open my eyes. Bad idea. When I realized Sister was not in front of me at all and turned to find her, both contacts promptly floated out of my eyeballs. Hmmmm. This was quite unfortunate.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiV5Flh1NzmOca0aw2sPhh4fU-55Vil0lDFMkuYzChnYtqNydJYD2sqR3NgIBVLB1uNNtrqb2VYncEK2TtOfyKzQi9IkPg6bxFk3jueZcozhs8hgPsrtMolQ3-GaP13JtxGr5PxLJt7akW/s1600/BobHope.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiV5Flh1NzmOca0aw2sPhh4fU-55Vil0lDFMkuYzChnYtqNydJYD2sqR3NgIBVLB1uNNtrqb2VYncEK2TtOfyKzQi9IkPg6bxFk3jueZcozhs8hgPsrtMolQ3-GaP13JtxGr5PxLJt7akW/s320/BobHope.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wasn't lying about Bob Hope's face.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Not knowing what to do, I screamed. Then inhaled for round two, but instead I just got a lung full of water. (how do I know it was only one lung full? Because if it were both I would've drowned silly!) I was about to die. I jumped out of the water and started emptying my lung of water. Despite Mr. Dekker's theory, I was not cleansed from any disease... (if you didn't understand that reference you need to go read the Circle series by Ted Dekker. It's almost better than my blog) Instead I simply was coughing and blind. The family members appeared to show no sympathy so I was sent back to the apartment to either get more contacts or my glasses.<br />
<br />
I had been walking aimlessly for about twenty minutes I believe before realizing I was lost. Everything still looked the same, but now instead of being able to tell where walls and paths were, I simply saw blob. blob was everywhere.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXvO2rqONTBtLwp2yiD2eoKb-rSkbBYKDHW_43mekh8c7VxbprBohK-R8CHWKAyzmsSRKCrBFZchyfTry358AMOQi_BZZIIhKRfogadWw1usqhEAk9_Of4EwaK3luSvc_lDKhG10Elws_V/s1600/pain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXvO2rqONTBtLwp2yiD2eoKb-rSkbBYKDHW_43mekh8c7VxbprBohK-R8CHWKAyzmsSRKCrBFZchyfTry358AMOQi_BZZIIhKRfogadWw1usqhEAk9_Of4EwaK3luSvc_lDKhG10Elws_V/s320/pain.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the sunburn I got from wandering so long</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
When I finally decided I was indeed lost, I figured it was time to find a little old lady and ask for help. Luckily for me it was around the next corner that I saw somebody only ten ish feet in front of me.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: Excuse me, </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Lady: *nothing*</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: Um, ma'am, excuse me, </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Lady: *silence*</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: *slightly agitated* Ma'am, I'm kind of lost. Do you mind pointing me toward 103M?</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Lady: *continued silence*</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: *quite agitated* Can you at least tell me if I am headed in the right direction? </blockquote>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Fd0Y4WZrC_ffmzVr1CxuoD0dHpG2mJEzAqiGX_FqK7Zpwko1TO9Rf6OA7RJ_FZWzVSZnA_QyKn9Qt-198bapUf_fXSBpNhkXu6_gzh1Yj15TIOQx4B3BvlM6PvCwmAa8qp8wfNHGJKJy/s1600/637_blurred_vision.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Fd0Y4WZrC_ffmzVr1CxuoD0dHpG2mJEzAqiGX_FqK7Zpwko1TO9Rf6OA7RJ_FZWzVSZnA_QyKn9Qt-198bapUf_fXSBpNhkXu6_gzh1Yj15TIOQx4B3BvlM6PvCwmAa8qp8wfNHGJKJy/s320/637_blurred_vision.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This looks surprisingly like the lady. Not the green post, but a little to the<br />right of it. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It is at this time that I heard an answer come from behind me.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Lady from Behind: (wow her name has some negative connotations) Young man, who are you talking to?</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: *gesturing* This old hag. (ok, I didn't say that but it's what I was feeling)</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Lady from Behind: Son, you do realize that trees cannot answer you when you ask them questions... Right?</blockquote>
*confusion followed by a dump truck full of embarrassment* I took a few steps closer to the little old lady. I touched her bark. (looking back I am ashamed of this fact) She was in fact a small tree.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: I uh- I knew that. I was just uh- I'm blind and my family deserted me and they took my seeing eye dog with them and I'm pretty sure my lung is about half full of chlorine and water and I don't know how much longer I'm going to live and I need to find my way back to my Granny's apartment so I can take my diabetes medication or else I might die and did you notice I said lung instead of lungs? That's right I only have one! (I'm still not totally sure where that part about the diabetes came from but I was embarrassed and desperate)</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Lady from Behind Who was Now in Front: Where are you trying to go son?</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: *defeated sounding* 103M</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Lady from Behind Who was Now in Front: Follow me.</blockquote>
I kid you not we walked two steps and she opened a door before saying, "Here we are."<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNPuPS5QfPbKj3wLocdwsYO7wR_YAGY5Jx6KYS9fMIx9I9bN5TdojucibgwjkXd6sDKRzwvo_OlEhSouUenjY_Je8lumYNK9W8hfSiUibLLUEoLcAkZX5DBOcR9Ia09qy-x3TdPIYvoerR/s1600/Granny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNPuPS5QfPbKj3wLocdwsYO7wR_YAGY5Jx6KYS9fMIx9I9bN5TdojucibgwjkXd6sDKRzwvo_OlEhSouUenjY_Je8lumYNK9W8hfSiUibLLUEoLcAkZX5DBOcR9Ia09qy-x3TdPIYvoerR/s320/Granny.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love you Granny! Thank you for making my life all the more special!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Indigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-48480068506280645822012-05-29T12:21:00.001-05:002012-05-29T12:21:48.317-05:00Arch Nemesis Has A Inside Man!<i>You will appreciate this post a great deal more if you first <a href="http://lifealmostfactual.blogspot.com/2012/05/my-first-super-fan-is-both-family-and.html" target="_blank">click here</a> and read the first part in this saga. </i><br />
<i>Much Love! -Indi </i><br />
<br />
Tone of this post: FREAKED BEYOND BELIEF!!!!! and this post doesn't even have anything to do with spiders, clowns, or Ke$ha! (ok, it might have something to do with clowns but not directly!)<br />
<br />
This morning was my first back home without Auntie Nemesis around. I should be safe for a while right? WRONG!!! I let my guard down for a split second and almost died! Obviously Auntie deserves much more credit than she has been given.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
As I got out of the shower this morning I proceeded to the other side of the house to get ready. (yes I use two different bathrooms to get ready everyday. Get over it) My second bathroom is kinda messy right now because it's where I dumped all my junk when I got home last night. I was going through all the numerous bathroom products on my sink and guess what I came across!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijILsb-Rtyx4OvKa72Jn1q0GYPrSAU6jrUjc2ua9LjFNkp7PZuiQrHUmqk8wUUv17XRmKqLRgQPsCDRGJtK9eh36ETYXHxdoiz21_B09WLrodLqBXeLuuz6YAgYdv-VMcD6-Vz9jL3vlXZ/s1600/AHHHHH.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijILsb-Rtyx4OvKa72Jn1q0GYPrSAU6jrUjc2ua9LjFNkp7PZuiQrHUmqk8wUUv17XRmKqLRgQPsCDRGJtK9eh36ETYXHxdoiz21_B09WLrodLqBXeLuuz6YAgYdv-VMcD6-Vz9jL3vlXZ/s320/AHHHHH.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(it's the one that stands the tallest. The center-piece of the picture if you can't<br />figure out what the big deal is)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
That's right. She did it! I don't know how but somehow she managed to get the poison shampoo on my sink! As if to taunt me! Auntie hasn't been to my house in over a month. In fact she is still currently in Florida! She has to have an inside man. And there are only three possible people:<br />
<br />
<b>Suspect1:</b> BIL. I've always kind of been fond of BIL. He doesn't seem like the kind to be in cahoots with Auntie. But then also, BIL can easily be intimidated by Auntie into doing something he wouldn't normally do. I would say it's quite possible.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgxQzqy0KsYVdqRPqVDbFOWJVLDR0oolp3fhfNXgilk83AXCTQP0IiNJuZsTOvd2U3cQz3nopKam8zukZpuSBPFavD2kOjmn7GroA00a86KCYtMLBQGct0QJkYEAigR_r0YuYwKYp1FlUU/s1600/BIL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgxQzqy0KsYVdqRPqVDbFOWJVLDR0oolp3fhfNXgilk83AXCTQP0IiNJuZsTOvd2U3cQz3nopKam8zukZpuSBPFavD2kOjmn7GroA00a86KCYtMLBQGct0QJkYEAigR_r0YuYwKYp1FlUU/s320/BIL.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You might be able to fool some! But I can see your guilty conscience!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Suspect2:</b> Sister. Sister is an interesting character. At first glance I would definitely think there is not a chance in the world that she would be plotting my demise with Auntie. But then I got to thinking.. What if Sister is just hiding behind those innocent brown eyes? What if secretly she is still holding a grudge for that time she got in trouble for getting caught biting me at school? What if she simply decided she didn't like me anymore? I would say Sister is just as possible if not more than BIL.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM2J4VXNQdQB7UTV7BgLXta69C4SsW7ETpdHIupgV6URGzxDOfqbDG6jXuuNO1W6ra3c_yDgupeOnOvhEYAk8I_e_f7DEg2WvUuAu2HtLpQvGV1pMgqN49plglt7MyZWBdf9FeZqmq-cPq/s1600/Sister.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM2J4VXNQdQB7UTV7BgLXta69C4SsW7ETpdHIupgV6URGzxDOfqbDG6jXuuNO1W6ra3c_yDgupeOnOvhEYAk8I_e_f7DEg2WvUuAu2HtLpQvGV1pMgqN49plglt7MyZWBdf9FeZqmq-cPq/s320/Sister.jpg" width="270" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not the most flattering picture..but I feel it captures her hidden menace.<br />Look at how she is biting the apple. Almost as if to say, "Remember that<br />time I bit you?" </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Suspect3:</b> Father. Father has a track record of trying to kill things.. (for example <a href="http://lifealmostfactual.blogspot.com/2012/04/father-killed-my-carand-garage.html" target="_blank">my Sexual and my garage</a>) He also has a habit of "accidentally" trying to kill said things. I would say I am almost positive that he is the predator. After all that would be one less college bill to pay off....<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlQSIpd2Urmcg_idmY2yVroFCMFE3Y0Yi41JJSigj3xnISTVBnCSuzSmMAOkSF4qyL3RoDWh8FMa-dRaEjPXat5UEXg6Uqq_o-Qo166_MZ6Oo_f4jzmQAISnLrVdO9POCs9has9V8g07f2/s1600/Father.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlQSIpd2Urmcg_idmY2yVroFCMFE3Y0Yi41JJSigj3xnISTVBnCSuzSmMAOkSF4qyL3RoDWh8FMa-dRaEjPXat5UEXg6Uqq_o-Qo166_MZ6Oo_f4jzmQAISnLrVdO9POCs9has9V8g07f2/s320/Father.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Once again, not a great picture, but this time it's the only one I have of him....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So there are my theories. Who do you think did it? There will be a poll attached to the bottom of this page for the next week for you to vote or you can simply comment to vote!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUCp11R7Z7FAowNuyTaAWfrznE6tLUisQd0T8wPp9m7oEOco6aDhXW6JOeNS2g9ry640BHiNGbIbXgDY8pHP1YB1_MIX22cSfpHZsc1RqL47dSeffwHl_-JSNNGXRjawYoZf_n5gABb3pT/s1600/Auntie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUCp11R7Z7FAowNuyTaAWfrznE6tLUisQd0T8wPp9m7oEOco6aDhXW6JOeNS2g9ry640BHiNGbIbXgDY8pHP1YB1_MIX22cSfpHZsc1RqL47dSeffwHl_-JSNNGXRjawYoZf_n5gABb3pT/s320/Auntie.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, this is the same picture. But I want you to get acquainted.<br />Also, I found out she was born on the same day as Bozo the Clown!<br />That should be enough to convict her!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Before I wrap up, isn't this face scary?? And now I know to be on the look out even when she isn't around.... She may be always watching, but now so am I. Your move Auntie.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><b><i>To Be Continued....</i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>Indigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-43657455747662311532012-05-26T18:43:00.002-05:002012-05-29T12:26:18.897-05:00My First Super Fan Is Both Family And My Arch NemesisSo here is the deal, There is never anything more exciting than learning that you have an avid follower. Even if it is somebody that is related to you. So I was extremely excited when I learned that my Aunt was a dedicated reader of L(A)F. Not only is she a dedicated reader, but she has suggested multiple posts to people that she thinks would enjoy reading them. For instance, after reading <a href="http://lifealmostfactual.blogspot.com/2012/04/whale-tales-credit-cards.html" target="_blank">Whale Tails and Credit Cards</a>, she called her boss and left a voicemail describing how it would be a wonderful slogan for VISA to "Swipe the crack - Get a dollar back!"<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.undertheradarblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/1297909210_visa.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="145" src="http://www.undertheradarblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/1297909210_visa.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swipe the Crack - Get a Dollar Back!!<br />
(it totally works)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a name='more'></a><br />
Learning that my aunt was one of my very biggest fans was obviously a big deal for me. I had at my fingertips what every writer desires. A superfan-guineapig to figure out what is liked and what is not! In order to crawl into the mindset of the "other side" I decided I would pick her brain for information. I started by asking her what her favorite post thus far is. Her answer: "The one where you die!" Now of course, there have been many posts where I come very close to dying, but I don't think I have actually died in any of them yet. (emphasis on the word yet) So in order to not look stupid about not knowing which post she was referring to (as I <i style="font-weight: bold;">did</i> write them) I asked, "Why was that one your favorite above all the others?" Her answer: "I just rather enjoyed the thought of you in a body freezer."<br />
<br />
This was a decent answer. At least now I knew which post she was talking about. (<a href="http://lifealmostfactual.blogspot.com/2012/05/this-post-is-morbid.html" target="_blank">This One</a>) Of course, I am rather surprised that it didn't catch me off guard that her favorite post involved me being "dead" and laying in a body freezer preparing to be cremated. Now that I know the rest of the events from this weekend, I am a tad bit disturbed...<br />
<br />
Having an Aunt that reads your blog semi-religiously means that you have an Aunt that knows every aspect of your being. What she doesn't already know from being an Aunt who has a super knowledge about everything in your life, (before you tell her) she finds out from reading your (almost) factual blog posts. This knowledge includes the one way she can kill me, therefore making her favorite post become a permanent reality. (yes, I have officially reached super human status where I only have one weakness that everybody knows about because I accidentally posted about it on my blog)<br />
<br />
Auntie (I like this name for her. As she will soon be known as my arch nemesis, it is a great deal more sinister than "My Aunt") joined Mother, Brother-In-Law (BIL), Sister, and me for a vacation of sorts this weekend. This means that we will be sharing pretty much everything. From hotel room, to bathroom, to shampoo. So when I saw that she had considered my dry scalp when packing her toiletries I was elated. That is until I got a closer look.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqa6A5ekZJIuiy64rZIc4RtFP1bxnmom3dBcl0_JZv_WSq603H0bvBITzt3QgCU86bKivy3i5c9xy6FarfM-01YC9zaYcNpKvoJ1nZmGbfqxAHRJzw_V2sH7t7ZAnQZie0hEmzFx-fD8ey/s1600/one.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqa6A5ekZJIuiy64rZIc4RtFP1bxnmom3dBcl0_JZv_WSq603H0bvBITzt3QgCU86bKivy3i5c9xy6FarfM-01YC9zaYcNpKvoJ1nZmGbfqxAHRJzw_V2sH7t7ZAnQZie0hEmzFx-fD8ey/s320/one.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just FYI, I took this picture naked....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Upon first glance it appears to be the typical extra care hair product. But after taking the time to examine closely, one can see it clearly contains my weakness. The one thing that could kill me and my beautiful hair. Almonds.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkYtxNlWP5rZfNlrHS6Q1Qv4SIQQsX28IwQDptgCMhgaZ6tdwPOFk6V0-YDFxlrc5SYylJa9NubDKCE4X029fg1EXlZy7BgsxRxxuafZli1CMvUU_BfhkSbx0C-oR0nothZicrdii3QO3x/s1600/two.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkYtxNlWP5rZfNlrHS6Q1Qv4SIQQsX28IwQDptgCMhgaZ6tdwPOFk6V0-YDFxlrc5SYylJa9NubDKCE4X029fg1EXlZy7BgsxRxxuafZli1CMvUU_BfhkSbx0C-oR0nothZicrdii3QO3x/s320/two.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I took this one naked too :D</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Luckily for me, I did not let the familiar face beguile me with false gifts. I saw through her trickery and realized that it was indeed a ploy to have me pushing daisies by mid afternoon. I noticed the poisonous product as it was streaming from the mouth of the bottle toward my hand. In one swift move I slid my hand out from underneath the trail of death and threw the bottle across the shower. I had nearly been put to death by my own blood. The very same Auntie that I thought had loved me since a child and become my biggest fan. (I guess she can still be my biggest fan. Wasn't John Lennon killed by his biggest fan?)<br />
<br />
After my shower I had to confront her. I got dressed and walked up to her....<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: Uhhh... Auntie?</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Auntie: Yes Boo-boo Kitty? </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Me: Umm...Nevermind. I'm going to go sit in the living room for a bit!</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Auntie: Alright Boobalicious!</blockquote>
<br />
CRAP!!!!! She knew I was onto her! It was at this moment that I knew something. I had just laid eyes on my very first arch nemesis. And it will only be a matter of time before one of us will have to bow to the other... Until then, I will be stuck looking into the face of evil, wondering what is truly going through her mind....<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin0zSA2AUybXRjqt3oP-oxq92x_VeiQUKXOmHrxa2JSNn1P4shRBMlLdCEtp696uJDSy-ZBX6ZnrYjBv0CSrcbEJA16heV03it8xZhb2cJC3Z6Dc7-lReBFyLY27r9fZzBVaDIiYikfFhy/s1600/Auntie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin0zSA2AUybXRjqt3oP-oxq92x_VeiQUKXOmHrxa2JSNn1P4shRBMlLdCEtp696uJDSy-ZBX6ZnrYjBv0CSrcbEJA16heV03it8xZhb2cJC3Z6Dc7-lReBFyLY27r9fZzBVaDIiYikfFhy/s320/Auntie.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Auntie is watching...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">To be continued....</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></i></b><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>**UPDATE:</b> Last night, I went to get a snack before going to bed and found this:</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2M_7FZIQ0kpugnsskUcas63Otzs3bn2zi4w9jAmS1HRjCBBkEs-aCIz3cUYUPdnwSY_kC5VdUCePjx4hMwuuUwqWlfsFsYzWG6S4wfYsoabVUhhZ7biL5hORMXjm5nHSfD_nX6IfW-n3k/s1600/three.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2M_7FZIQ0kpugnsskUcas63Otzs3bn2zi4w9jAmS1HRjCBBkEs-aCIz3cUYUPdnwSY_kC5VdUCePjx4hMwuuUwqWlfsFsYzWG6S4wfYsoabVUhhZ7biL5hORMXjm5nHSfD_nX6IfW-n3k/s320/three.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I also took this picture naked....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And this:</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8a4iNmd1WAFxwbFP3SO-RJy9i1bzYQkKnNojzbD9OEkBV7uirJxKgomrSWvLvXCjrjI4BqUp8D4mXQWBRig0N-H1EvL7W5BUrPK_efEVSs3grS7yjWo8OrSUVkVeEwqA9IQRRN9BJ4Ier/s1600/four.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8a4iNmd1WAFxwbFP3SO-RJy9i1bzYQkKnNojzbD9OEkBV7uirJxKgomrSWvLvXCjrjI4BqUp8D4mXQWBRig0N-H1EvL7W5BUrPK_efEVSs3grS7yjWo8OrSUVkVeEwqA9IQRRN9BJ4Ier/s320/four.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I didn't take this one naked. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And lastly this:</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUbw7pjaOAhDOtgdJz9PM1y6aB4uEt4WvUs2lO82rNMlzT1-FviP3agzHVpNSzM4U-dyCAUHBQb6T9N_fePeGZXTgHMOI9nlJN3hhN_CUNX1BNOi17B8Wrzn8nViwQUo_JGprhGerqjyyw/s1600/five.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUbw7pjaOAhDOtgdJz9PM1y6aB4uEt4WvUs2lO82rNMlzT1-FviP3agzHVpNSzM4U-dyCAUHBQb6T9N_fePeGZXTgHMOI9nlJN3hhN_CUNX1BNOi17B8Wrzn8nViwQUo_JGprhGerqjyyw/s320/five.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She tried to be sneakier with this one. But I caught her!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
So now I ask, why, oh why, Auntie, must you despise me so!?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<br />
<b><i>To continue the story of Auntie, <a href="http://lifealmostfactual.blogspot.com/2012/05/arch-nemesis-has-inside-man.html" target="_blank">click here.</a></i></b></div>
</div>Indigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5905573059613138469.post-15219832926733279122012-05-25T22:16:00.003-05:002012-06-15T13:00:48.760-05:00Spiders Are Worse Than Dogs (part2)Ok, I realize it has been <i style="font-weight: bold;">forever</i> since I wrote <a href="http://lifealmostfactual.blogspot.com/2012/04/spiders-are-worse-than-dogs-part1.html" target="_blank">the first part to this post</a> but I was waiting for the inspiration to write the next part. Today, I got that inspiration. Shockingly, it came not from a close encounter of mine with a death-dealing spider. In fact, I never have had any personal experiences with the spider of this post. So to be honest, I am writing this post on BIL's behalf. I am giving a voice to guy without a voice.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
<br />
This morning while at a museum with Sister and BIL, I noticed something odd. BIL had something on the back of his neck. At first I wrote it off as a large zit, but as my eyes lingered, I realized it was anything but. Slightly appalled, I asked BIL, "What is that nasty thing on your neck?" Judging by the title of this post I am sure you can guess what his answer was. "Ummm, I think it's probably a spider bite. Looks gross doesn't it?"<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieG2f20Pdd2zJuRalir0qBOQcKMNmc4kUZYSj5A1u5cMHikvfUW0V0IMLBPYHMB_RfWrMQNb3GvFmOkc7hoklNzjjC-yn23t0Ij51eXyKlCB6NV8QpWs1pAdK5NszT9MshNPEWPNEcjECP/s1600/bite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieG2f20Pdd2zJuRalir0qBOQcKMNmc4kUZYSj5A1u5cMHikvfUW0V0IMLBPYHMB_RfWrMQNb3GvFmOkc7hoklNzjjC-yn23t0Ij51eXyKlCB6NV8QpWs1pAdK5NszT9MshNPEWPNEcjECP/s320/bite.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look!!! A spider bite!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
If I was appalled before learning it was a spider bite, imagine my disgust after. My biggest fear in life took it upon its species to attack someone close to me and infect BIL. This set a couple of thought trains barreling through my head.<br />
<br />
<b>Option 1:</b> BIL has been bitten by a mutant spider and will now posses characteristics similar to a spider that will lead to his eventual fame as a masked crime stopper named Spiderman.<br />
<br />
<b>Option 2:</b> BIL has been bitten by a decomposition spider that will cause him to slowly rot starting at the point of origin and spreading throughout his body until we replace over 90% of his body with mechanical parts like a robot.<br />
<br />
<b>Option 3: </b>BIL has been bitten by a regular killing spider and will die.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately <b>Option 3 </b>looks to be the most likely. It was nice knowing you BIL.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ShihzrSIaSRZFl7Wb0W3TovgXqaCp_a7tNp_sQy2YIFk4ktUXzQKpI4xLpoynTvw14QbFuuH6jxAqTs91MsysAIlYg7TMzQvi7yILMMFdU91zDLigL3bDzdyRYytmjx9MvJqNFqEx6RG/s1600/BIL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ShihzrSIaSRZFl7Wb0W3TovgXqaCp_a7tNp_sQy2YIFk4ktUXzQKpI4xLpoynTvw14QbFuuH6jxAqTs91MsysAIlYg7TMzQvi7yILMMFdU91zDLigL3bDzdyRYytmjx9MvJqNFqEx6RG/s320/BIL.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is BIL before we knew he was going to die. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<i>P.S. Just a word to all the spiders out there reading this post that think you have won, you haven't. If anything you just kicked the dial up a few notches on the severity of our war. </i>Indigo33http://www.blogger.com/profile/16173958381143463634noreply@blogger.com0