Friday, October 9, 2015

Truth or Dare

I have many memories of playing this in my younger years, not necessarily fondly.  It is best played with a group of close friends, who know you almost as well as you do – sometimes even better.  This works because whether you choose truth or dare, you end up confronting parts of your personality you thought were hidden, secrets you had yet to spill, tasks you would never do on your own.

There are many truths in my life.  They are the things I do not consciously think about, but people probably do not know about me.  And, since these friends of mine are not here, I am playing their role.  They may not know the right questions to ask in order to make me blush.

I like the smell of yeast.  Not bread yeast, but infections.  This revelation came while I was training to be a veterinary technician.  We would take care of shelter animals for the semester and I was always confused when the other students would be disgusted by the smell, so I asked what was so gross.  Turns out it was yeast.

Sometimes, when I have not showered for days, I like to smell my armpits.

In my head, I am still eighteen.  As long as I do not look in the mirror, I can maintain the delusion and act accordingly (although I will admit I do not make the same decisions I would have made when I was eighteen, but perhaps wish I had).

When we moved into our house, my cat, Captain Jack, became an indoor/outdoor cat.  He used to get in fights, though he is neutered.  I caught him walking funny one day and, rather than pay for a vet, I squeezed infection, pus, and blood out of an abscess in his armpit.  It did not gross me out and he was fine.

There are days when getting out of bed is my worst nightmare.  There are nights when I am afraid to fall asleep.  Sometimes it is both.

The people I’m closest to where I live believe I will someday murder my husband.  I have done nothing to deter their insinuations.  It has even been brought up by our tattoo artist.  I am not saying I could not do it, I just would not murder my husband.  For the record.

Eleven years ago we ordered a Papa John’s pizza.  We are still waiting on delivery.
I pretended for years I hated watching football, just so I would have reason to complain on Sunday.  I still maintain this to a certain degree, but am no longer fooling anyone.

My brother-in-law is in prison and I am mad at him for it.  He caved to pressure from his public defender and pled guilty to a crime I do not believe he is responsible for, but even if he was, the statute of limitations had expired by the time he was tried.  I have not visited him since his incarceration.  (After getting to know Jenniy, I find this embarrassing, but still cannot bring myself to see him until my anger is under control.)

This blog has been up for 3 years and I still have not found my blogging niche.  If asked what my blog is about, I would not know how to answer.  Like my brain, it is all over the place.  

During my junior year of high school, I pretended to have a mental breakdown so my roommate would request a transfer and I could have a room to myself.  Toward the end of the year, I was given a new roommate, whom I found was dating the guy I broke up with my freshmen year. Awkward.

I cannot stand to blow my nose – it makes my head hurt – so I pick it.  A lot.

Popping pimples and ripping off dead skin is fun for me.  I even do it to my husband and sometimes, when I get the urge, I watch YouTube videos of other people doing it.  Also, I ask my husband to pop the ones on my back.  Even when it hurts, I feel better.

At the end of the scary movie Mama, I cried tears of sadness.  If you haven't seen it, I am not going to tell you why.  Sorry.

I have a lot of hair.  It is everywhere... except one place on my body.  I do not have hair in my armpits.

When I was in sixth grade, I wrote a "novel".  I was always (and still am) told I had talent, so I wanted to pursue a degree in English.  I never made it to a four-year college, but I still dream of writing a book.  The thought of writing a book terrifies me, however, because I do not think what I have to say is worth reading.  I still have said "novel" in a box in my closet. 

And one final one:

I like girls.  And guys.  I married a man, but will not rule out being with a woman.  While I hate the saying “Love is Love”, I do believe people can choose who they wish to be with, regardless of societal opinion – except when it is illegal, like pedophilia and incest.

It's Friday and you know what that means!  Time for a blogging challenge: Secret Subject Swap. This week 16 bloggers braved the unknown by coming up with a secret subject for another blogger, while getting one in return.  No one knows who got what... until now!

My Subject wasInstead of trick or treat, how about a game of truth or dare. Tell an embarrassing truth or have someone in your home assign you a dare and take a picture of you following through.
Submitted by: Baking in a Tornado (thanks, Karen!)

Go see all the talent!

Small Talk Mama       

Friday, September 25, 2015

Bear With Me

Funny Friday, September 2015

Today’s post is this month’s Funny Friday, a regular feature published on the last Friday of every month. Funny Friday is a collaborative project. Each month one of the participants submits a picture, then we all write 5 captions or thoughts inspired by that month’s picture. Links to the other bloggers’ posts are below, click on them and see what they’ve come up with. I hope we bring a smile to your face as you start your weekend.

Funny Friday  150 X 150.jpg

Here’s today’s picture. It was submitted by Spatulas on Parade.

20 - Spatulas on Parade.jpg

1. I'm the King of the Tree!

2. Bear with me - I can't get down.

3. There is no honey up here.

4. This is a stick... the tree is over there.

5. Pssh. Tree huggers.

Click on the links below and let some other bloggers make you smile:

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Eggless Cinnamon Sugar Cookies

It's the right time for these.

You know the time - the time when you're coming to the end of a pay period and your fridge looks like you have been robbed.  This is for when your groceries are running out, but you have one hell of a sugar craving.  When you want cookies, but have no eggs... or cake mix and pumpkin because you used them the day before.

I must be in my manic phase - I cleaned the kitchen and baked cookies.  Within hours!  The next day I did allthethings - all the dishes, all the laundry, fixed Quesadilla's dresser - which was wholly unorganized.  I found three pair of socks that weren't together, but both socks were in the drawer!

I even went as far as to put my own clothes away!  (But I didn't get much writing done *sad face*)

A far cry from my depressive days, for sure.  So along with allthethings, deliciousness happens.  Soft, chewy, sugary deliciousness happens on good days.

Eggless Cinnamon Sugar Cookies

Preheat oven to 350° F/182° C

What You Need:
  • 3 sticks unsalted butter (360 grams)
  • 1½ C (300 grams) sugar
  • 3 C (360 grams) flour
  • ½ tsp (2.5 mL) vanilla extract
  • ½ tsp (2.5 mL) cinnamon oil (found in the candy section of retail/craft stores)
  • 1 tsp (5 mL) baking soda
  • ½ tsp (2.5 mL) salt
  • sugar crystals, for garnish (optional) 

    What to Do:
    1. In a large mixing bowl, cream together room temperature butter with sugar until smooth and combined.
    2. Mix in vanilla and cinnamon oil.
    3. Combine flour, baking soda, and salt.
    4. Slowly add flour mixture to butter mixture.
    5. Beat until well combined.
    6. Prepare a baking sheet with parchment paper or cooking spray.
    7. Roll balls of dough and flatten between hands.  Place on cookie sheet.
    8. If using, add sugar crystals to top of cookie, pressing slightly to secure.
    9. Bake at 350°/182° for 12-14 minutes, checking at 10 and 12 minutes for signs of burning. 
        Enjoy!  I know I did...

        Friday, September 18, 2015

        Jar(s) of Flies

        We have been doing some work in the backyard.  Well, to be honest, The Big Guy and his friends have been doing work and I have been supervising.  So far the back corner has been cleared.  I think we took down... five trees?  I think.  The yard looks naked.

        And speaking of naked... I am going to buy curtains for ours and Quesadilla's rooms - we can see all our neighbors now.

        I had a video, but it doesn't seem to want to load.  TBG jerry-rigged an old extension cord to use in lieu of a rope, which we didn't have.

        To celebrate the razing of the trees and shrubbery, we threw a BBQ on Labor Day.  It was pretty awesome.  It was probably the first real Labor Day bash we have held since... ever.  There were a lot of flies (ha ha) and we did not have a full spread, but the company was good and the weather was perfect.

        During the BBQ

        Quesadilla: Bigfoot, your shoes are making me lose my appetite! *throws them off the blanket*

        Little Sasquatch decided, instead of eating with the rest of the kids on the blankets by the adults, he was going to the other side of the yard with his own blanket.  He ate by himself.

        Even though our yard was covered in debris and sawdust, not a single child felt the need to wear shoes.  Not one.  And this was to spite all three mothers (myself included) telling them they needed shoes on.  For every foot stabbed by burs and sharp grass, I will not take the blame.

        For science class, Q has to catch bugs.  And kill them.  But not damage their bodies.  I had jars of bugs in my freezer - spiders, flies (ha ha again), a grasshopper, a couple of silverfish, a wasp, an aphid... and some ants, I think.  Gross.  Just... ew.
        B is in his first year of Spanish and he likes to share the new words and phrases he learns with me.  It is a little insulting, however, when he seems surprised I know the English turn of phrase.  I took three years - something had to stick!

        TBG sprays a little Febreze on LS.
        LS: What was that for?  I didn't fart!
        Apparently farts are the reason we have Febreze.

        Somehow my children and I got into a conversation about breast cancer.
        Me: You know, men can get breast cancer, too.
        LS: How?
        Me: Well, the pectoral muscle is "technically" the male breast... or in the case of your Daddy, actually breasts.
        Kids: ...
        Me: Your dad needs a bra.

        I recently finished my first (and probably last) James Patterson novel.  This is the man who puts himself on television to sell his books, which, by the way, outnumber the books of the Bible.

        Meanwhile, my favorite author is at the White House, getting the National Medal of Arts.

        It's all about quality, friends.  Quality.
        Now shoo fly.  Shoo!
        Follow me home                           

        Friday, September 11, 2015

        His and Hers

        Iggy watched as she ducked out of the bakery, hugging her coat tighter to ward off the lingering dampness of this October morning.  London can be so dreary in autumn; all bluster and little sunshine.  The wind kicked up at her back, whipping honey-dipped hair into her face as she struggled to maintain balance while carrying her breakfast tea and the sack containing a doughnut.  He smiled.  She was going to be late for work again.

        He stayed with her as she made her way through the bustle of commuters hurrying, as she was, to and from the platform for the tram.  It was a nightmare going uptown at this hour, but he never lost sight of her.  Everyone jostled for position as they boarded and it was easy to hide himself.

        As she boarded the tram, Letty felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention.  It had been like this for weeks.  She would roll out of bed, the smell of the dog-end of a fag she didn't remember smoking wafting from her bedside, her mouth tasting like she drank the stock of the nearest off-licence.  After having a slash and quick shower, she would throw on the cleanest pair of trousers and a blouse, then rush down to the coffee house for breakfast.

        Exiting, an eerie feeling would climb up her spine and lodge itself in the back of her mind.  It felt as if she was being followed, but a quick assessment yielded no obvious signs of a watchful eye.  Quickening her step around the bend to the tram platform, she tried to lose herself in the on board crowd.

        Upon arrival at the office, Iggy checked to see she made it safely to her desk on the third floor before donning his coveralls and losing himself in the mind-numbing tasks of IT recovery.

        His job in the bowels of the building afforded him plenty of time alone and, having installed spyware on her work computer, he looked in on her from time to time using the built in cam.  Silly girl.  She had no idea he was there, staring into her hyacinth eyes as they scanned documents, laughing as her eyelids drooped sleepily as the day wore on.

        From the opposite side of the canteen, he studied her ovoid face and wishing he could touch her creamy, freckled skin.  How he longed to be near her.  The feeling was magnetic.

        End of the day brain fog accompanied Letty to the pub after work, followed by the comforting fuzz of mild drunkenness.  It still felt as if there were eyes trained on her, but the constant flow of ale made it seem unimportant.

        She drank, she caroused with her colleagues, she tried to forget about the veritable shit box that was her life.  After consuming a few nips over her limit, she stumbled out of the merry cacophony and into the cold bite of the night's harvest breeze.

        Walking back to her dingy flat, alone in the encroaching darkness and weak streetlamps, a shiver made its way up her spine.  She could feel him now and she was afraid.

        A shiver of anticipation made its way up Iggy's spine.  Tonight was the night.  She was a bit knackered; more than usual, he thinks.  Lighting up a fag, he walks with his head down.  She doesn't notice him; not yet.  All was going according to plan.

        He watched from the high-street as she staggered into the lift and began her ascent, then sauntered up the stairs after her.  When he arrived, she was beginning to close the door behind her, so he slipped in quietly before it could latch.  At last, they were alone.

        Letty fumbled her keys once, twice, trying to get the door open, then stumbled in when the latch released.  She felt around in the dark for the light switch while attempting to close the door behind her.

        She heard the door shut as she found the switch, squinting at the sudden light reflecting off the rusted mirror in the hall.  Placing her keys on the table underneath, she braced herself against it to stem the wave of dizziness she felt.  After it passed, she looked up into the mirror.

        He crept silently around to the kitchen and back before she had gained some control of herself.  Taking a deep breath, Iggy came up behind her and, as she raised her head, looked directly into her eyes reflecting back from the mirror.

        She saw him!  There, in the glint of her eye, Letty could see him!  After weeks of searching, he was there and she opened her mouth to scream...

        He plunged the knife in once, twice.  He felt vindicated as the moment he'd planned for came to fruition.  Then a burning pain moved across his abdomen and he looked down.  He found himself bleeding profusely, yet he still held the bloody instrument in his hands.

        Confused, he looked up into the mirror and saw she reflected there, a hand clutched to a gaping wound, a knife sliding unchecked from the other.  Her thin lips were open in a half-realized scream, but he could no longer see himself as the surging pain overtook him.

        Crumpling to the floor, blood seeping into the shag carpet, life draining from her body, Iggy had time to think one final thought

        "When they find her, will they see me?"

        It's Friday, so ...  Blogging Challenge!  This week is Use Your Words, where participating bloggers pick 4 - 6 words or short phrases for someone else to use in a post.  The blogger must use each word/phrase at least once and each post will be unique, as each blogger gets their own set of words.  

        Here's the twist: no one knows who got their words, until now.  Make sure you stop over and visit the other blogs featuring this challenge (links at the bottom)!

        My words were: London, fog, smell, eerie, bend, magnetic
        Submitted by: Climaxed (thanks, Jenniy!)

        Disclaimer:  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

        His and Hers ©Robin Allen 2015

        All rights reserved.  This story, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including recording, photocopying, offset, or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the author, except by reviewers who may quote brief passages to be printed in a magazine or newspaper.