So this is a Chistmas story my mom told me while I was home recently and i thought y’all might enjoy.
So, one Christmas back in the 60′s, my great-grandmother was reminiscing about Christmas in England, and how they used to have pheasant for Christmas, but Ohio sucks and they’d never get to do something like that.
Well Shit! goes my grandfather, them woods are full of pheasants, I’ll get you one. So grandpa and a dubiously related man named “uncle popeye” went out with shotguns to get great-grandma a pheasant for Christmas dinner.
They’re gone for a LONG time. according to mom, they were basically expecting grandpa and Popeye to be gone for a few hours and come back with a store-bought chicken and apologies.
Instead, they come back eight hours later, covered in mud and freezing cold from the Cleveland winter, but Surprise! they have a Pheasant. Great-grandma gives them a lecture about staying out so long and worrying her, but agrees to dress the bird so they can all have a traditional English Roast Pheasant. Grandpa and Popeye retire to the living room to drink beer and talk about what great woodsmen they are when Great-grandma screams from the kitchen.
“TOM!!” She bellows and literally every male in the house jumps because literally every man has been named “Tom” for three generations at that point. “THERE’S NO BULLET HOLE IN THIS BIRD.”
They both look massively sheepish and eventually admit that they hadn’t had much luck finding pheasants in the woods and were about to go to the store to get her a chicken when they… backed over the pheasant.
“Then what were you idiots doing in the woods for eight hours?”
“We weren’t out there for THAT long-” Popeye starts before grandpa decks him. Grandma and Great-grandma have to menace them with wooden spoons to get the truth out, but eventually they take thier oversize hiking boots off to reveal bandages.
Turns out they had only been in the woods for Two hours looking for pheasants before LITERALLY tripping over one, and they both reflexively aim at the ground and… Shoot each other in the foot. They hadn’t backed over the Pheasant in the woods. They’d backed over it in the Hospital parking lot.
And that’s the story of how my great-grandmother made a Roast Pheasant and the ladies of the house got to eat the whole thing while Grandpa and Popey had to watch.
One of my compulsions with my OCD involves having to eat ALL of something or finish it. It wasn’t until I was on medication that I was even remotely successful at controlling my eating and thus losing weight. As I got comfortable in the process, though, I got much more lax about serving sizes and watching myself. And with the added stress of job applications and dissertation writing, I had fallen back pretty hard.
So one of the immediate changes I discussed with my Health Coach was individually packing my snacks again. I had convinced myself I didn’t have time to do it, but that’s dumb. So today I went out and bought snack food, and I took the time and portioned it out. Now I have snacks (all under 200 calories) ready to go. I can just grab them and put them in my bag in the morning carefree! AND I can eat “all” of the things and not freak out. Take that, mental disorder! ;)
So I don’t go to work till this evening. Of course I woke up at 3:30 am. The coffee pot died, it has been a good one. I went to truck and was waiting on youngest to get in so I could take him to school.
I heard tires screech and that all too familiar thump. Yes a wreck just down from house. 3 sets of teenage girls, 2 cars with their noses bumped up and an SUV in the ditch. Pretty amazing considering the speed limit is 30 mph and it happened in an intersection with a 4 way stop.
So I finally got to drop youngest off and decided to…. Wait for it…. Yes I went to Lowe’s. Bought hopefully the last 7 sticks of molding to finish cornice, I also sized plexiglass for a frame I built.
The wreck still wasn’t clear as the suv was in a deep ditch and the wreckers were struggling to pull it out.
I’m home, pooped, unloaded molding, going to take a nap now
Today, I fucked up... by pranking my roommate my scrambling all his eggs, putting the scrambled eggs back in the carton, and telling him he bought "Pre-Scrambled Eggs".
My roommate goes shopping on Sunday evenings. He bought a carton of eggs. Last night after shopping he went out, and I knew he’d probably not be back that night.
So I decided to scramble every egg from the carton. I ate some of them (It was always my intention to replace the egg carton, just to get that out of the way), and the rest I stuffed the scrambled egg back into the carton. So it was just a carton of scrambled egg.
Then on the back of the carton I wrote “Pre Scrambled” in marker.
This morning I hear my roommate exclaim “What the fuck!?”
I ran into the kitchen and saw him staring dumbfounded at the carton. He kept looking from me to the carton and back. “Did you buy the Pre-Scrambled kind?” I asked.
He looked at me like I had just spoken Saturnian, so I repeated my question. “The fuck do you mean?” he replied.
I took the carton from him, acted like I was carefully examining the packaging, and then pointed out the writing on the back. Pre-Scrambled. “Yeah, you bought Pre-Scrambled Eggs,” I said.
He looked as perplexed as it is possible for a person to be. Maximum perplexness.
I put on an act of being amazed that he had never heard of Pre-Scrambled eggs, and about how I always check the back of the carton to make sure they aren’t Pre-Scrambled.
He stammered something along the lines of “But what…but why…how…why would they…what the…why…”
I was about to reveal it was a prank when he suddenly got very serious and intense, like a late-season Walter White sort of vibe, and he said “Fuck no. Not my eggs.” Then he wheeled around and marched out of the apartment. Out to his car. And he left.
I was a bit concerned. And probably should have shouted after him before he left. But I didn’t.
So like 40 minutes pass and I hear our apartment door open, and I hear “I’m banned! I’m banned from the Stop & Shop! Banned!”
I walk out to the kitchen with some apprehension. He looks enraged. “Banned!” He dropped the egg carton on the floor. “Did you fuck me!?”
He wasn’t taking it well.
“They don’t fuckin sell this shit!!! Did you fuck me!?”
At this point I admitted to pranking him. And I apologized. He just stared at me for a moment, then shouted something like “You’re buying me fucking new eggs!!” Then he slammed his bedroom door. Then he opened it and yelled “I have to drive to motherfucking PATHMARK, are you kidding me!? You go too far!! FUCK!!!” And slammed the door again. Then he opened it again and shouted “STOP LAUGHING!!!” and slammed the door again.
I do feel bad about this because it was never the intention of the prank to get him banned from the supermarket. I have already replaced his eggs and I am in the process of thinking up some way to make it up to him regarding his banishment.
TL;DR - Accidentally got my roommate banned from the supermarket when I convinced him they sold him “Pre-Scrambled” eggs.
Lambert the lion is just like Linus
from Charlie Brown: he always needs a
Lambert had to be relocated from his ‘home’ after the man who purchased him realized he couldn’t properly care for him. He had acquired Lambert after taking his 2-year-old and 3-year-old kids to see the Lion King. They told him they wanted a Simba, so he went out and bought them one. Illegally. After 3 months, they decided to give him away, and he was eventually taken to the In-Sync Exotics rescue.
When he arrived at his new enclosure, Lambert started pacing around, showing signs of anxiety. “We had heard from the previous owners that he slept in the bed with the grandfather.”
“I started thinking, 'Okay, he’s used to being in a house, he’s used to sleeping in the bed with grandpa.’ So I got him a blanket, went into the enclosure and put the blanket in one of the corners.
“He curled up on that blanket and he went right to sleep. Ever since then, I always give him a blanket.”
Today, I fucked up... by coloring my hair fire engine red and making my boyfriend think I was dying.
I usually dye my hair dark reddish brown, but thought I’d like a change. And being in college still, there’s no better time to experiment with cool hair colors.
I bought a box of hair bleach, and another of red dye and went to work in my apartment bathroom. After a while of sitting around waiting for the dye to take, I got in the shower to rinse it out.
There was a lot of it in my hair, so when i stepped into the shower, the bright red dye started rinsing out and pooling in the bottom of the shower, which doesn’t drain well. And of course, some dripped into my eye, causing me to flail around, splattering dye all over the shower tiles and sliding glass door as I looked for a towel.
Just as I was dabbing my eye with the wet corner of the towel, my boyfriend (He lives with me) came home and came into the bathroom.
He saw the red splattered glass door, and me in the shower, and screamed. I, startled by hearing him scream since I hadn’t even heard him come into the bathroom, yelped too. I jumped back and stumbled to the ground in the shower, and he pulled the door open, freaking out.
He saw me fallen down in several inches of blood red water, with more red splats all over the wall, and that was when I realized how scary it must have looked.
I quickly said that it was just hairdye, and we ended up laughing about it.
TLDR - Dyed hair bright red. Boyfriend walked in on me washing out the dye in the shower, and thought I was covered in blood.
When I was little I was very spoiled to say the least. My grandma was very indulgent and whenever I went anywhere with her she’d buy me something. Well one time when I was 4 she took me to the supermarket with her. As we were checking out I realized that she hadn’t bought me anything. I quickly asked her if she would buy me a toy but she shook her head and told me not today. I was so shocked that I started crying and limping around, making a very big scene. People were starting to glare at my poor grandma probably thinking she had hit me. She finally grabbed me and asked me why I was limping to which I screamed, “MY FEELINGS ARE HURT!” making the whole entire store start laughing which made me limp even more dramatically. What can I say? I was a dramatic kid.
So after Christmas I went on a book buying spree at Barnes and Nobles, and I went to buy the Selection Series, but The One wasn’t out on the shelf so I asked a very attractive worker if they had it. He said that they should so he went in the back to get it, but it took him a while to find it. When he found it he like rounded the corner and smiled at me and said, “GOT IT” and it was adorable. So when he came back I bought it and everything and just today I went to read it after finishing the first two books and he had put a note in it that said, "Hope you don’t think this is weird, but you’re cute" with his name and phone number.
SO TO ALL THE BOOK NERDS WHO ARE LONELY: SHIT LIKE THIS HAPPENS FOR REAL, IT’S NOT JUST IN THE STORIES.
And to the guy who gave me the book: I’m so sorry I took so long to get to it!
Wanna hear a story
Last summer I really wanted to buy a lava lamp so I went on Amazon and I found this four pack of lava lamps for like $5 so I was like fuck yes mad cheap AND I get 4 and so I bought it and waited a solid month for it to come in the mail. THEN I opened it and come to find out it was lava lamp cardboard cut outs, not actual lava lamps.
ok but au where bitty and jack are married and bitty has a bestselling cookbook out and jack is still in the nhl and someone tweets bitty “@omgcheckplease i went on amazon to buy a blender but I bought your cookbook instead” and bitty’s like “DM me your address im sending you a blender” followed by someone else saying “I went on amazon to pay my college tuition but bought your cookbook instead”
I found out something so incredible and unreal today? I’m shaking as I type this and I’m going to try to explain it in the best way possible …okay so last month I bought my parents tickets to a twenty one pilots show because they’ve really grown to like the band which makes me happy. Anyways my mom was picking me up today and saying how excited she was for the show and how she went on the facebook page for the radio station the show’s going to be at and one person commented “21 pilots? don’t you think thats deceiving? there’s only two of them” and I said “ugh I hate when people say that, they don’t even know the meaning behind the band’s name” so my mom asked what the meaning was and I told her about the play and how that tied into the meaning…while this was happening my mom’s eyes got huge and she started to cry and I got confused as to why. it didn’t make any sense to me so I asked her if she was okay and then she started to tell me a story…
so my mom’s a nurse and has taken care of many many many patients and she obviously can’t remember all of them. She starts to tell me about how a few years ago she was taking care of an elderly man who suffered from severe panic attacks as a result of PTSD. The man was an airplane mechanic for the military in WWII. My mom would sit with him and hold his hand and talk with him through his panic attacks. She learned a lot about him and his past. The man was an airplane mechanic and in charge of assembling airplane parts. Once, he noticed that the parts he received were faulty and told his boss immediately, expecting to have to stop production, however his boss instructed him to still use the parts and assemble the planes. The man was really distraught because as it turns out, the planes he assembled crashed as a result of the faulty parts which resulted in the death of “over twenty pilots” (he would say this a lot))(my mom had heard this story over and over and over again). A few years later the man could no longer take his panic attacks and PTSD and ended up killing himself. My mom had never forgotten this mad and he was actually her favorite patient. She would sit and help him through his panic attacks, even off the clock. His death had always affected my mom deeply and I distantly remember her being really upset over his death. Obviously this isn’t the protagonist of the story, but this man definitely played a part and it affected him deeply.
At first I thought my mom was joking, this couldn’t be, it was too similar. Too unreal to be true. I didn’t even think that All My Sons was based off a true story, but I looked it up and it was a true story. My mom and I started crying and freaking out because it was such a coincidence. This is my favorite band, and a story they were built upon. They helped me save my life and this story is very close to my heart(i have tattoo that expresses the moral of the band very closely tied with the story of All My Sons). This is so unbelievable and warms my heart. All i know now is that I connect with this band more than I ever thought possible.
-A small girl was thrilled to discover that she was tall enough to reach over the counter and hand me her money. She gleefully shouted, “I’m high enough! I’m high enough!” and I have never been so proud of someone half my height.
-An elderly man bought deodorant called Swagger. I am glad that he knows how important swag is in the modern era and scents himself accordingly.
-I stepped away from my register for a moment to move some hangers. Rather than wait at my register, a pair of guests followed me around, watching me from a safe distance, before finally returning to the counter once I did. I do not know what they were hoping to gain from their check-out lane safari, but I do respect the efforts they went through to try to avoid me noticing them. They were in vain, but I respect them.
-A small boy hid underneath the counter, shouting out phrases like “I love Target!” and “Target is the best!” repeatedly, for five straight minutes, with no signs of a motive or a desire to stop. I am not unconvinced that we hired a ten year old as a propaganda machine.
-A girl sat in the cart as her mother tried to choose a brand of gum for her. “That one,” the girl would declare. “This one?” the mother would ask. “No, that one,” the girl would respond. This back-and-forth went on without change until the mother had gone through every package of gum that we had. Neither flinched, changed inflection, or showed any sign of consciousness of what they were doing. This is by far one of my most surreal moments yet.
-As I left the bathroom, I noticed a stereotypical business man doing unstereotypical things. By this, of course, I mean he was scrubbing his left foot with a paper towel. As one does between board meetings at a retail establishment.
-An older woman accosted a young woman I was ringing up, demanding to know where she got each article of her clothing from. Most of it was Walmart. The elder one inspected each piece of clothing individually. All the while, the small child with the older woman was spinning around, exposing his nipples to all within range.
-A newborn child gave me the single most distrustful look in history. I do not know whether she could sense that I was out of stickers or if I had wronged this baby in a past life, but the infant was having none of me.
This dude comes into my work, I don’t remember talking to him but he comes back once a week for a while to see if I’m there. Everyone I worked with said “he’s very cute and seems decent.” I was like “that’s awesome, get his name next time.” He comes in again when I’m not there, his name is Riley. I didn’t know what else to do with that information, so I made a tinder and sought out every boy named Riley. (genius, I know.) So, I go on dates with two boys named Riley, neither of them were him. The first one I went on a date with told me that his ex-girlfriend dramatically moved to California and dumped him. The second one was just a dick, but he bought me chai tea and a cookie, so it was okay. Riley #1 stopped texting me one day, come to find out he lives in California now. Riley #2 texts me every now and then to tell me that I’m hot. Finally, the original Riley came into my work while I was there, unfortunately. I don’t know what my coworkers meant, but he was in high school and looked like a emo boy straight out of 2008. I gave him my number because I felt bad that he’d been trying to see me for so long. He texted me “hey” about an hour later I got a text saying “I love you”. Moral of the story, tinder = good, boys named Riley = really bad.
Alright, sweeties! A bit of a different post from me today! I have been meaning to make this for awhile, since I haven’t seen anyone organize their grimoire the way I do, I thought this could certainly be helpful for someone!
First, let’s talk about the book itself! I don’t use a blank book or a notebook. I wanted a graph paper notebook this size, but just couldn’t find one! So, after watching this video, I was SO inspired, I could just MAKE the whole thing! So, we went out and bought a used book, a pack of graph paper and a glue stick. This was SO freeing because I make pages before I put them in, I write in pencil, then I go over it in fine Sharpie pen, erase pencil marks, and then glue the page in when I’m finished. That way, I don’t have this fear of “messing it up” (even though I think messing up things is part of the fun sometimes!).
So if you like to be organized, I might be stressing you out. I understand. Organization is something I love and need in my life. I’ve seen so many folks using binders for their grimoires, but it wasn’t my style. I wanted it to all be sort of chronological, but also organized??? My answer to this– COLOR CODING. Ever section (energy, astrology, spells, candles/incense, etc) has a different color that I make on the side facing outwards, along with the category written on the side. This way, if I’m looking for something in particular, I can flip through and find it, no problem!
Secondly, I use ENVELOPES. Alright, I love astrology. Astrology is something I want to have a lot about in my book, but also I don’t want to take it up my entire book with this. So envelopes were my answer for this! I water-colored each envelope in a color suit that felt fitting to each of the elements, and drew on the constellation, glued those bad boys in, and BAM, I have WAY more room to add things about signs because I can just stick ‘em in their designated envelopes.
In addition, I like using/decorating with things from the internet, magazines, etc. This is YOUR book, your documentation of learning, your personal reference. Don’t be afraid to go off the ‘traditional’ leather bound, calligraphy written, beautiful grimoires if that isn’t your style! It doesn’t make it ANY less witchy or magical to use highlighters, friends! Don’t be afraid, no one can tell you what is right or wrong when it comes to YOUR grimoire!
Also, I would LOVE to see your grimoires, so tag me in your photos!!
Looks like we need mom here to show daddy how it's done.
I decided to give my wife a break and take my almost two year old out for the day. I had some things to return to the mall, so we went there first. As we drive into the parking lot, I can already tell it’s going to be a good day. The coveted front row spot was waiting for us. My daughter is in a great mood. I’m in a great mood. Life is awesome. We bought stuff, rode the carousel, rode 50 cent rides, Disney store, Build a Bear, we had a near perfect day… until we left.
Walked out of the mall and got to the minivan. I put my daughter in her carseat and proceeded to unload our loot into the back of the van. During this time, a car with a 45+ lady is waiting for my front row spot. I can feel her tapping her foot in her car. I start to fold up the stroller and forgot to unpack the little things (hairbow, snacks, random things) from the holder on the stroller handle. I stop to take out that stuff and put it in the van when I hear the lady say from her car to me, “Looks like we need mom here to show daddy how it’s done!” I can tell she’s trying to be funny, but this pissed me off. I give her a fake smile and go about my business.
This lady doesn’t know me. She doesn’t know if I’m divorced or a widower or anything. People make comments like this all the time to dads out spending time with their kids and it gets under my skin.
So, I slowly pack the rest of the stuff, go around to the side door and get my daughter out of her seat. I start to walk back to the mall right beside this lady’s car. I look at her like I’m surprised and say, “Oh I’m sorry! Were you waiting on MY spot? We’re just dropping off some stuff in the van.” I can see that she’s perturbed. I finish it with a “Happy New Year!” She speeds off and I watch her from the front door of the mall. She has to park towards the back of the parking lot. I walk right back to the van, pack the kid, and drive away. I guess daddy showed her how it’s done.