Friday, May 13, 2011

I've been unfaithful...

It's hard to say where it began. A little glimpse here, wandering thoughts there. Whispered seductions of an easier life, of happier times. Promises of no frustrations.

Other people have done it, and they're actually happy now.

I don't know why I've stayed here so long. It's been dull. Your meltdowns have been severe, and I've worried you wouldn't recover from some of your crashes. You need help. Honestly, the lack of interaction and the overwhelming sense of 'blah' exuding from you have about made me give up altogether.

But I'm not giving up. I'm just moving out and moving on.

So with these few words, I say adieu. Goodbye, blogspot. You've been... well... adequate. You were my first blog, but it's time we part.

I'm moving on to higher ground. New ventures await. New friends to be made, new posts waiting to be written and read.

Hello, Wordpress. I'm glad we can finally go public with our relationship.

(find my new blog located here-

Monday, May 9, 2011

Have I lost my marbles?

I have a fear of becoming senile.

I understand that eventually all of us will have some decline in our mental faculties, I just don't want to accept that as a fact. Even worse, I have anxiety issues based around this. See, I'm not only afraid of becoming senile, I'm afraid of it happening to me now, at my current age. Not that I'm anywhere close to gray haired (naturally, anyway. I always expect that I'm going to really screw up my hair and have grandma-blue color on my head).

Constantly I have moments occur in my life that make me question if I'm losing my grip on reality already. (Granted, this blog has enough to prove that I'm already gone, but that's a truth I choose to ignore.) I'm not talking the little things like losing keys, we all do that. Same with children. They show up eventually and all is okay.

I can rarely remember any details of movies I've just watched (with a few exceptions). And this can even be immediately after watching. I tell myself that I'm just being wise with my internal memory and not storing useless info. Perhaps saving room on my hard drive for something important.

But, to contradict this theory, I can remember almost every episode of certain sitcoms. Like all 10 seasons of Seinfeld. Or Arrested Development.

So I worry I may be slipping. And I continue to hope these are quirks, specific to me.

Then yesterday happened. Trying to get ready to leave, I had an outfit in mind that I wanted to wear. Nothing fancy, but it included my favorite jeans. Went to my dresser to get them, not there. Maybe I left them in the master bathroom? Nope.
Laundry? Nope.

I lost my pants. Gone. Missing. Lost. AWOL. Non-existent.

How can one lose a pair of pants?! Especially in a house that isn't very big, and doesn't look like it's had a hurricane come through recently. I take pride in keeping our home decent. Usually.

Enlisting the help of the family as a search party, we began to scour the house for my jeans. Running short on time, I decide to wear a different pair, but the hunt continues. Nowhere to be found. Todd checked his dresser, making sure they didn't get put away with his jeans. Not there. I checked my son Creed's dresser, just in case. Nope.

By this time I'm thinking in asterisks and ampersands (possibly even some pound symbols and dollar signs! at the stupidity of the situation. How could I have lost my pants?!

The day continues on. Life goes on. But the nagging thought of "Where are they?" still remained.

Finally, late afternoon-ish I thought of one place I hadn't checked. The only place I hadn't checked. My son Traben's pants drawer. He hates jeans, never wears them, doesn't own them. So there's no way I would've put a pair of jeans there, right? Right?!


There they were, in all their splendor, tucked neatly in his drawer.

So, here I sit at my table, wearing my wonderful jeans and wondering... have I lost my mind? No. No, I haven't. I hope I never lose it.

And I hope I never lose my pants again, either.

So, opinions? Am on the fast-track to becoming senile? Or do you have stories of embarrassment that make this story pale in comparison? Please tell me I'm not alone in this fear of youthful senility!

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

I just heard...

Are you one of those people that finds yourself listening to some absurd stories? I find that people feel the need to tell me anything and everything. Mostly, it's entertaining, sometimes disturbing. And I'm not just talking about people I know, but strangers as well. After years of this happening, I'm thinking maybe I should share some of these random moments. So here are a few recent stories...

Yesterday, I had a guy start telling me about how his friend has a 7 week old pot-bellied pig that is potty trained. When it needs to go potty, it goes to the back door and starts snorting. He said it even plays well with the persons dog, and their neighbor dog... but he assured me when all three are together, they keep a good eye on them. I asked him, "Is it because you're afraid the dogs are gonna realize they're playing with bacon?"

During a recent trip to the grocery store, the cashier had to remark that she likes otter pops. I replied with a not rude, but a mildly unenthusiastic, "Yeah, they're good(?)." She must've interpreted it that I needed reassurance of their grandeur, instead of me sounding like I was confused why she needed to tell me this. She then proceeded to tell me how she wants to always buy them by the case. They're good! They're good! "I like to get up in the middle of the night and have one, you know if I get too hot or something? And my husband will wake up sometimes and come out for some water or something and I'll be sitting in my chair eating one. He's wondering what I'm doing, but they're good!"

And all I could think is, "Since when did they lace those things with crack?".

Today, a woman in her 70's had to ask me how I had my shoes laced. So I held out my foot and told her, "Very messily!". She proceeded to tell me about how her husband only wore Converse (what I was wearing today) until a couple years ago, but he had to lace them a certain way. The right way. Not the way I had done it. She was wishing he was with her so he could show me.

These are my shoes and how I had them laced-

These are how she thought they should be laced, "Straight across is good!"-

Maybe next time I get new Chucks, I'll lace them like this, and hope my path crosses with this kind, talkative grandma so she can inspect my shoes and have a story to tell her husband.

So talk to strangers people, let them talk to you, too! You never know when you're going to hear a hysterical story, and odd story or a story with way too much information.

You never know when you'll finally meet the person who can teach you to tie your shoes correctly!

So, have any stories you want to share with me? Feel free to leave them in my comments section!

Thursday, April 21, 2011

yeah, but....

I live in a typical suburban neighborhood.

For the first three years I lived here, I never met some of our neighbors in a particular house. We called them "The grinders", as they were always busy welding or using an angle grinder on random pieces of metal.

There's the neighbors that don't mow their lawn because they only come home for two hours on the weekend. And only every other weekend, at that.

I have other neighbors who are landscaping neat-freaks. I fear leaving a footprint in their lawn, though they're too nice to complain. I imagine if I did, they would come out at night before bed and comfort the grass where I had tread. Probably giving it kind words and some luke-warm, fertilized water, carefully administered with a dropper as you would give medicine to a sick child.

I have neighbors who only call me by my middle name. I still don't understand why.

See? Typical suburban neighborhood. Almost.

Then there's the backyard neighbors. They are super friendly, not too intrusive. Sometimes the conversations drag on, but I know I should be thankful. At least they aren't selling drugs out of their house, just ugly dogs that I can't stand.

She was single until about two years ago when she found herself a nice husband who happens to manages a local grocery store that I frequent. Outside of the occasional over-the fence chat, I sometimes see him at the store. He's a talker. He talks just to talk. What's great is, I know he still can't remember my name, yet he seems comfortable in holding me hostage in conversations. Sometimes he makes me want to have a signal to give my kids so they'll know to throw a fit and I can have an out.

Don't get me wrong, I like people. Sometimes I wish I could interact with people more than I currently do. But never in this instance, and with good reason (at least in my book, which isn't a book based on logic, or reason).

Maybe I need to roll with the punches a little more, but this is getting old. Every conversation is the same. And today's conversation is the prime example, so I'll share it with you here;

Neighbor- "Hey! How are ya?"

Me- "Good, thanks. How are you?"

Neighbor- "Great, hey we're thinking of doing an addition and my wife said you guys had added on to your house."

Me- "Yes, we added the back section."

Neighbor- "Oh, and I heard your husband playing music the other night again. We were saying how good it sounds, is he in a band?"

Me- "Well, he and I play music together."

Neighbor- "But it sounded good, who was he playing with?"

Me- "He and I were playing, we play a lot. We'd like to have a band, but don't have a drummer so just he and I play together."

Neighbor- "Yeah, but it sounded good, who was he playing with??"

Me-(trying to suppress visions of smacking him with one of my drumsticks)"Me!"

Neighbor- "What? Well, what do you even play??"

Me- "I play the bass and the drums, but it's usually drums lately."

Neighbor- "Yeah, but... it sounded good. (looking confused) He's not in a band?"

I kid you not, this is the actual conversation. And it was the last time, and the time before. Next time I may record it with my phone for kicks (and for all you doubters who think I make stuff up, solely to have a blog topic).

I mean, seriously??? I want to know what makes it so unbelievable to this man that I could actually play music. Because I have been for twenty-something years. And not just in my music room, thank you. Maybe I should take it as a compliment that he thinks it's good, whether or not he believes it's me? Maybe I shouldn't let people's obvious lack of tact bother me?

Maybe I should find a new place to purchase my groceries...

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

looking for opportunities...

I've been highly desiring to find a way to let my creativity flow again, and yet I keep neglecting to write. Hopefully that will change.

I just need new inspiration. Or maybe to just realize that my writings don't always have to be lengthy, grand and/or thought provoking. That even just a minute detail from my life could be enough to brighten a day, or spark a thought.

Or if nothing else give you ammo for harassing me later.

So, here's my little piece of life I'd like to share with you...

I'm still not sure what I want to be when I grow up. Yeah, old topic I've talked about before on here. It's just that, I tend to be a dreamer. I want to run with lots of ideas, just not sure which one is the right fit. So, when a good looking job becomes available, sometimes I feel the need to apply. Though, I usually don't. I do have a lot of 'home work' to keep up with, at the moment.

I recently came across a possible employment opportunity that could possibly be a 'dream job', or at the least a step in the right direction. There weren't a lot of specifics listed as to what the qualifications were they were looking for, but I know I could be the right fit. I've already worked in multiple jobs that could relate to this specific one.

So I wrote up and sent out a resumé that morning. I wanted to share with you a few of the finer points I listed in it, in case you may know of any other job openings I'm unaware of.

-Order & organization are important to me, but I try not to be OCD about it.

-I keep a very professional, tattooed and pierced appearance. Poor tattoo quality is a pet peeve of mine.

-I enjoy writing and editing.

-I know how to fold an origami Darth Vader.

To me, it's extremely important to cover all the bases and give possible future employers as much info about yourself as possible.

I hope I hear back about the job soon.

Sunday, January 9, 2011

asterisks & ampersands

A random observation I had today was that, I've come to a point in my life where I really don't notice many four letter words. It's not that I like them, or even really use them. I'm just not irked by them. It hasn't always been this way though. I remember being really bothered by any thought of cussing, especially when I was a child.

I have a grand memory of when I was about five years old, sitting in the backseat of my parents car. I was running my mouth, as was typical. Blah, blah, blah, yap, yap, yap... My mouth never stopped. I know this because, my parents once told me they used to get me little ice cream cones from DQ just so I'd quiet down for a few miles on road trips. I think I kept talking, their plan ruined. Anyway, I remember this instance so vividly. I was rhyming random words.

"Sit. Hit. Lit. Bit. Get. Knit..."

I remember pausing in the middle of this, from having a particular word come to mind that I knew I definately didn't want to say. I tell myself I'm not gonna say it, and then continue. This time, I was going for speed.

"Kit. Hit. Dit. Fit. (faster, I tell myself) Bit. Wit. Quit. Sh!t."


I said the word I didn't want to say. How did I say that? Why? Instant tears. I knew I was in trouble. Big trouble. I had visions of soap, time-outs, and worst of all my parents being upset. I decided to punish myself. And it's not as though I'd ever been disciplined this way, it was just how my five year old mind reacted. I slapped my own cheek. And cried more.

And my parents barely reacted to the word, more worried by my reaction. They told me they knew it was an accident, I wasn't in trouble.

Damn those four letter words. Er, I mean... Excuse me while I go slap myself.

But here I am a few year later, and I still try not to use very many four letter words. I like words with many letters. I love to use considerably large words that have a grandiose presence and imply that within me lies a greater intelligence level than actually is.

If people drop the F-bomb around me, I probably won't flinch (though I might react a little differently if my kids are with me). You can say any number of words, and I'm not going to throw a fit at you for using improper words in front of me. I may laugh at you, openly even, if you use excessive curses to the point that your sentences are no longer coherent. Flunked on vocabulary, did you?

But there is one word that, no matter how you incorporate it into a sentence, it will bring about a bad reaction from me. I will most likely cringe if it comes into conversation, and even possibly rebuke you for using that type of language in front of me. I will only utter it once on here, and we must never speak of it again.


Thursday, December 2, 2010

once upon a time...

I used to blog often, remember those days? There goes jakz, posting another plea to read her blog on her myspace status... the blog you remember, but what is myspace? I have no idea.

Every time I lacked an idea, I'd send up a quick, desperate prayer and hope that something would inspire me. That usually ended up with me beating a hobo to death in my backyard. True story, but you know this because you read that blog already, right?

Or even better, it would end with me having my debit card info stolen by someone evil.

I forgive you if you haven't read any previous posts, and will give you the benefit of the doubt, for now that perhaps you didn't know it existed. But since you're here, no excuses! Go read! Go find more reasons to question my sanity!

And now for some filler content I'll post ten random facts from my life (technically they should be referred to as "thoughts about nothing").

10. I once had a rattle snake on my foot. I like snakes, but that was definitely a closer encounter than I would've preferred. After I survived the ordeal, I did something I don't recall doing ever since... screaming like a girl.

9. I recently found out I'm not the only person in the world who, when eating crackers, chips, pretzels, etc. always eats the broken pieces first. The world feels more complete knowing I'm not the only one with this kind of OCD rule.

8. One of my favorite childhood, school-related memories repulses many people. In science class when I was about 6 or 7, my teacher brought in owl pellets. Then she gave us the best task ever, even better than dissecting a locust! She told us to start taking apart the pellets and searching for the bones inside. Then we had to reassemble the little skeletons and try and figure what creature the owl ate. Mine was a vole. It was a happy day.

7. When I was in 8th grade I could bench press 120 pounds.

6. I hate swimming.

5. I hate snow more than I hate swimming. There are different levels of hate. I should've probably said, "I loathe swimming." and then said something along the lines of, "I highly disdain snow.".

4. I miss getting gold stars on my writing assignments and spelling tests. #yesiknowhowcompletelynerdythatsounds

3. I can remember crashing my tricycle when I was either 2 or 3 years old. I can't remember what I had for lunch yesterday. Sometimes I contemplate if the crash might be related to the memory issue.

2. You're still reading this?! My apologies!

1. You deserve a prize for enduring this long and making it to the end of the blog... I'm thinking this would be a good reward.

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Life's Great Annoyances...

I'd like to think I'm an easy going person. If I believed that though, it would probably just prove even more how much I like to live in denial. It's not that I think I'm high-strung, I try to leave that lifestyle to my dog. It's that I have a growing, great list of annoyances.

Yes, we all get annoyed, I have no doubt of that. I think I tend to take things a step further, and never let go of these issues. Granted, I'm only now at the point in my life where I realize this and will publicly admit it ("publicly" being on my blog that has a *ahem* select [promounced "small"] readership??)...

My annoyances tend to be like that popcorn kernal that gets stuck between your teeth... If there is no relief in sight (I don't carry floss in my pocket), the agony is prolonged and obsessed about until it's finally removed. True agony.

So what of the annoyances in life that can't be eventually removed with floss, or remedied some other way? I'm talking of offenses such as people who think sports bras are actual shirts, or that the word "creek" should be pronounced "crick", bad music played in stores, the mullet, bad dental hygeine, crickets, ants, close-talkers, tailgaters, or weather forcasters in general. (this is just a light list of my continual grievances)

But I realized today one of the great thorns in my side (my side being a virtual briar patch), is actually a global dilemma. There may be no remedy, and people may never understand. But it may actually aggrivate me more than my son placing a cricket on my back in Home Depot(correctly pronounced "creek-eht").

This is a problem that has plagued me since my childhood, no less! I have vivid memories of literally squirming in disgust at the sight...

I absolutely cannot stand peanut butter cookies made with cross-hatch marks.

There is no logical explanation for this issue of mine. None. And there are many reasons as to why it's done to begin with, but none really mean much to me. No matter the cause, this has to be one of the grossest things to me ever.

So kindly world I ask for just a small change. It will simplify your life, really! One less item to clean, just press your pretty little cookies down with a spoon, or clean fingertips (or use a really cool cookie stamp?) Please, spare the forks the agony of tedious jobs like marking cookies. Please, don't cross those cookies ever again. Or in the very least effort possible, please don't share them with me.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

pardon my lobster...

Unanswered questions may just be the bane of my existence. (That and maybe ants, clutter and all liars. And... well, let's not start that list!)

Recently, my mind has been contemplating the deeper issues in life. I've been placing myself in other people's shoes(at least in my mind, don't blame me if you can't find your Addidas), trying to gain more empathy for those around me.

Mostly, this just means I let my imagination run free for a couple of moments, and come back to reality with more issues than understanding.

Sometimes it brings up questions. Large questions, random questions, minute non-sensical questions... Primarily the latter. And even with all my wits about me, no matter how few they are, I cannot always come up with a resolution.

Here's a recent dilemma, and feel free to leave input in my comment section-

Suppose you really screwed up in life, did something ridiculous that is, by law, unpardonable. You find yourself on death row. Wasting away, day by day. Knowing eventually, your number will be up and it will be your turn in the chair. You know you're guilty, so you're not even holding out hope to be pardoned. You don't care anymore... finally, it's your turn. But before that fateful moment, as in all those glorified Hollywood flicks, you get to have your last meal. It's bittersweet, as you've only eaten gruel for years waiting for this moment, but this marks the end. And not to be cliche, but you request to have lobster for this crowning moment. Not because you like it, but because it's costly, because you've never had it. Maybe because it is symbolic of a better life you're saying goodbye to the opportunity of ever having. Your day is here. Your meal is here. You take a bite. Buttery, flavorful... You take another bite... soothing...until you start coughing. And coughing. And choking. Your airway constricts. It would figure you'd be allergic to shellfish, but not find out until it almost doesn't matter.

So therein lies the question; if you are hours away from your scheduled departure, will they make an effort/are they obligated to save you from this unintentional poisoning?

If they don't help, they'd be setting themselves up for legal problems right? But if they do help, isn't it a bit... odd?

You say this whole question and scenario is odd? I know. Your point is?

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

maybe it's because the sign was white...

It was just a moment, maybe a minute. But an hour later I still feel ill from it.

Eugene has a lot of people, on a lot of corners, all holding signs. Our neighborhood has quite a few regulars, they have their spot, and when you don't see them there, it just seems odd. Most of them are older, most of them look like they've had a rough life.

All of them have signs. Most are written on brown cardboard, all with something different portraying the same message; Help. Help me find work, help me find food, help me have more money, help yourself to heaven by giving me your change, help me have a beer... (Best sign ever was a sign that said, "Why lie? I just wanna beer!")

We have a man who faithfully decorates his 2' by 2' sign with Jesus-y bumper stickers. Around here, that may be an extra count against him.

I don't usually give money to these people, mostly because I rarely carry cash. But every time I see these faces I long to know their story. Countless times I've wanted to go park the car somewhere, walk to where they are on the corner and ask how they got where they were. Do they plan on their situation changing? Do they still have hope? What's their name?

But, I'll use excuses not to go, that it may be inappropriate. Sometimes I think of enlisting Todd in the expedition, but I'm not sure how he'd feel about that. Maybe I should ask.

Today was different. I had to run an errand with Traben while Creed was at school. We pulled up to a corner, third car back from the crosswalk, and there was a guy on the corner. He was different than a lot of the others. His complexion didn't scream of drug or alcohol abuse. He wasn't haggard looking like a vet. He was probably my age, & looked a little like someone I know. And his face didn't scream of a jaded view on life, but of brokenness, of shame.

He was holding a sign, not quite like all the others. A white sign. And it didn't have a whole list of things on it, there was no reference to being a vet, losing a job, having a failed business... It just said one word;


And a million thoughts started running through my head- give him money, don't give him money... go buy him food, what would he want?...offer to give him a ride and go buy him food, probably not a safe idea...

And I can't figure out why I, in a moment of decision, couldn't decide. But I didn't do anything. Just half-smiled, and drove by when the light changed. But my smile disappeared as I realized who I was in that moment, and who I should be. And my heart broke.

How many times do we pass by people who just need a glimpse of hope, of the love of Jesus in action? How many times do we deny the fact that it could be us on the corner? How long until we realize, no matter how many awful decisions those people have made, they are still people? How many times will I continue to pass by?

I can't know what opportunity I missed. And I still don't know what's appropriate for me to do in all of these situations. I hear of people keeping snacks or power bars in their car, just for these moments...

I don't know. All I could think of was the verses in Matthew 25-

"42For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, 43I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.

44"They also will answer, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?'

45"He will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.' "

Today I didn't feed Jesus.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

A random poll, because I can.

Good idea?? not such a good idea?? you be the judge...

Friday, October 9, 2009

When I grow up...

Recently Todd and I went out for a nice dinner with some new friends.

[At this moment I'd like to pause for a formal apology to the previously mentioned 'new friends'. You are now part of a club that some consider a curse. You are now in the "I've Been Mentioned In iamjakz's Absurd Blog" cartel. May your mention in this ongoing drivel be short and anonymous. It's just better that way. And feel free to send me $19.95 so I can process your membership and send you your cartel ID card and commemorative t-shirt.]

We were having a great evening, random conversations, laughing at the Ducks extreme lead in the game, until we were presented with some wonderful sushi. And more sushi. And still a little more. But that isn't the point. As the conversations progressed, I was asked a thought provoking (yet simple) question.

[Right now I'd like to take a breather and point something out, perhaps explaining my predicament? I'd like to state for the record that, my lack of an intelligible response wasn't because I was without answer. Rather, I was suddenly inundated with the possibilities of so many correct answers. And since I don't like responding with incorrect replies, and I couldn't decide which was right, I really just shrugged it off. And that made me feel, well... less than brilliant sums it up nicely.]

So, what could've given me this headache? What thought has plagued my mind for almost a week now, creating a need for me to publish this predicament? What...what was the question exactly? Honestly, I can't quote it word for word, but it was along the lines of this...ugh, and truly even now, my head is spinning with possibilities of answers and ideas and correct responses.

Okay, here goes...

"If you were to go back to work, what do you think you'd do?"

What occupation would I choose? How would I earn my wages? How would I use my precious hours in order to help increase my worldly worth?

I decided that since I failed so miserably in the verbal test, maybe I'd be able to earn back some credit with my written response. Without further postponement, here's a partial list of pursuable professions I might consider.

Option 1- I'd like to be a dentist. Yes, I know it would take years of school, and I'd have to deal with people and their bad oral hygiene issues. You could say I want to do this because I believe firmly in a healthy mouth, or that I want the world to have better, brighter smiles. You could say that, but I wont. I want to be a dentist so I can be in the group of '9 out of 10 dentists prefer'. And I want to be the one that doesn't.

Option 2- I do enjoy writing, and am fond of random (somewhat useless) facts. I like sharing this with people at rather off-the-wall moments. I feel my wisdom that should be imparted to the masses. Journalism? Fiction? Should I write general knowledge or how-to guides? I'm actually thinking more in line with being a fortune cookie writer.

Option 3- As embarrassing as it can be to admit in certain situations, I actually enjoy playing a round of golf. My wii calls me a champion golfer, and in real life I do have a trophy to attest to my skills (sadly, the only trophy I've earned in my life). But, being a professional golfer takes hours of commitment and practice and determination and being around other golfers... Yet, I love being out in the green glory of the courses. My optional employment? I wanna drive the little car that picks up the golf balls on the range, but with one stipulation- I get to have a giant bulls eye painted on it.

Option 4- On the somewhat serious side, I still think about possibly opening a cafe & baked goods kind of place. My own little cheesecake factory, perhaps. I'm just afraid that the name alone would cause people to not want to enter, especially those embracing a South Beach diet, for example. What possible name would I call my business that would make people think twice? A name dear to my heart for reasons I cannot pinpoint. "Fat and Happy's", with the motto being, "making you fat and happy since 1999".

Option 5- I like reptiles. But I totally don't wanna have a house full of them, being a breeder or something (no offense to those who do). And I really don't like pet stores. I don't mind a little danger, so I was thinking about becoming a snake milker. The problem is, I have no idea how to break into that market. And I'm not sure there is much of a market around here, in that the only milk I typically see for sale is cow, soy or possibly goat.

Option 6- I thought it might be fun to be a mascot. Then I remembered the days that I used to dress up in a giant pink gorilla suit for work. Enough said.

Option 7- Safety is very important to me and my family. We have very well-enforced rules about wearing helmets when biking, scootering, jumping off of roofs, etc. So what better way to help than get into the auto industry and help with their safety regulations? Almost everyone in America travels by automobile. Plus, it's most likely a government job, which would mean big $$$ and lots of benefits (doesn't every government employee now own their own submarine?). That being said, I wanna be the person that pushes the button and sends the crash test dummies flying.

Option 8- If my presence was requested, I would most likely allow myself to be employed as a mythbuster. It would be better to have a reason to blow things up (other than it's just fun!), and it would probably be a lot more legal.

Option 9- Christmas has Santa, Easter the bunny, Valentines has the ugly flying baby, er, Cupid. There's the Tooth Fairy and the Keebler Elves. Somewhere in the mix, there has to be a job I can do that involves dispensing random gifts in unconventional ways. Maybe something to celebrate the day after Thanksgiving, I could call myself Adephagia (after the Greek goddess of gluttony) and dispense tums to those saturated with turkey and gravy. Or maybe I could help the world celebrate Columbus day by sending out a message to every GPS showing the coordinates to a specific location where they would find a prize. I'm thinking perhaps a map?

Truthfully, I have no clue what I'd do. And the sad fact is, my days are numbered until both boys are in school and I can choose an activity to busy myself that doesn't involve cleaning toothpaste off of walls. But until that day comes, I'm going to decide to not decide anything. So, with apologies to the general public, I will continue on in life being me.