Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Debunking Dr. Evil

           Satan's army is in my backyard. I went out to pick my raspberries and every berry was overtaken by wasps, aka demons. I don't think they were eating the fruit, the raspberry was bait, their  anticipated meal is human flesh.When the earth was created, Jesus did not bring forth wasps- that I am sure of. It was his wicked brother Lucifer, and I'm not being dramatic-I am stating a fact. Those hornets retreat in shadows plotting pain and fear in this football size nest.
My tree invasion

          The month of July is when I first start seeing flies. They're pesky, but overlooked. By the beginning of August they swarm on my front porch like a dust orgy. They wait for the door to open so they can fulfill their life purpose- to get in my house. I'm a bit peeved at their invasion, but I've got every child with a fly swatter in hand. I haven't been driven to madness.....yet. I've heard the scariest thing in the world is losing your mind, but once it's lost there is nothing left to fear. By the end of August I'm losing it. Flies are on every surface and I'm seeing shadows of flies. They are taunting me with every encounter, triggering a murderous rampage. My eyes are glinting in the night, rolled magazine in hand, searching for the source of the bzzzzzzzzz. The fly and it's whole Mormon, Hispanic, extended family is now in my house by September- hitting pinatas for Family Home Evening. At this point I've thrown in the white flag with tolerant disdain while they continue beating paper mache for "candy".

            I understand flies. They are annoying as hell, but opportunists. I do NOT understand wasps. They will land on a delicate baby's hand and sting her for no reason. She wasn't touching any food, invading any hive, killing any of their young. She's sitting there being angelically sweet getting stung in innocence. That is why wasps come straight from the underworld inferno.

            To get to the source of these pesky demons, we need to look at their creator. First there is the queen wasp which breeds Satan's spawn. We'll call her Hillary Clinton or Oprah. It just makes sense. Satan wants power, America is the most powerful, Satan puts his mistresses in power to control and oppress. Hillary and Oprah command America, while he works the globe with multiple other "puppets" in all shapes and forms to achieve his ultimate mission- world domination.
            Satan is Dr. Evil. The Father of Lies. He would never show his face like this.
                  
 Who would trust that? He and his mistresses take on forms like Mariah Carey. She sings about butterflies and makes egocentric videos, but I know what's up Mariah.  I'm not a conspiracy theorist, but George Bush and I are on to something big. The Axis of Evil, the brainwashing liberal media, and that shady Islamic religion.

           There are many things I don't understand about Satan. Doesn't he grow tired of being so evil? Retaining anger is exhausting. Doesn't he grow weary in the fight against righteousness? When my kids approach the "terrible twos", they kick and scream while I easily restrain them. That is what evil is to goodness, a  nagging tantrum that will never win. There will be collateral damage, a spilt sippy cup of red punch, but goodness will prevail. I've read enough scripture and fantasy novels to be certain of  this. When my child doesn't get his way, he cries for a bit and recovers to decency. When Satan didn't get his way, he took a third of the hosts of Heaven and vowed to reign on earth with pain and terror evermore. He's the number one she-devil of evil drama queens- there I said it, and my head hasn't spun a three-sixty. 

         I understand ferocious demonic anger, but not in a constant form. The Lord of Darkness is pissed to say the least. His plan of extreme communist control and selfish glory was tossed aside, and he will never receive a body of his own. He's currently on a body snatching expedition (FYI). I would be on the lookout if I were you. Maybe playing a ouija board, or drawing an upside down five-point star on the floor is not a good idea. If you choose to wear a cross, do not...I repeat, do not wear it upside down .I've watched an exorcist done on t.v and it is not pleasant. It is, however, strangely fascinating in a demented way. I've found myself a highly useful acronym SFDW.
      There are people who've decided to worship the Adversary instead of the All Knowing. The only way I feel fit to write about them is in dialogue. I call it-

           The Satanist and the Psychologist because they should go hand in hand.
Psychologist-  Again, I'm trying to understand. You are not interested in a higher power that  fulfills happiness, eternal life, joy, love, empathy, generosity, kindness and charity?
Satanist-  Nope
Psychologist- You worship darkness and seek for damnation, despair, destruction, distortion, disorder and derangement?
Satanist - Yes, the six d's.
Psychologist- That's right, because six is a symbolic number representing incompleteness.  (Long sigh) Can you describe your relationship with your parents?
Satanist- (speaks with disgust) I'd rather not.
Psychologist- ( perks up) I think we're on to something.
             Parenting is very important. Certain mistakes can mean the difference between raising a Miley Cyrus or a Marilyn Manson. Don't get discouraged though; there's a good chance Marilyn Manson wipes off the make-up, takes out the freaky eyes, steps down from the platform shoes, unhooks the gothic corset, and karaokes to Air Supply. Just as evil is exhausting, so is being freaky.
              I'm not sure if I'm testing fate by mocking evil. The last thing I want to do is challenge the master of everything unholy. Satan is real, like it or not. He's miserable and desires company. It's a bit ironic that someone so evil can feel moments of happiness, but he does. He's ecstatic when we fail to recognize our godly worth. There are certain things that try our patience and annoy us(flies), but we learn to live with them and make the most of a bad situation. Other things (wasps) are worth the battle. It's you or I, but one of us is going down, and it's going to be you mofo! The trick is recognizing the two and distinguishing that "yellow jacket" howls "demon". It gets a bit gory at that point. It starts with spraying poison. Next comes chopping, flame throwing, and smashing. A perfect recipe  of disaster and Hell deliverance. My methods are a bit eccentric, but so is Dr Evil, Drama Queen of horror.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

voyeurism

         When embarrassment happens, our brains naturally look for ways it could have been avoided. At church, when I said "Thank you for your talk" to the wrong black guy, my mind went a hundred miles an hour. It chewed me out "Damn it Emily, you couldn't have looked at other distinguishing features? while also trying to defend itself  "They're both really black and dressed similarly. You're not a racist bastard, it's an honest simple mistake". It wasn't simple. Issues with race never are. When they moved away I thought two things.

                 1. Crap, there goes our city's diversity.
          and 2. Emily, you are a big friggen tall blond white idiot.

        We don't need others chewing us out, because we are our own worst enemies. If only we could change the past. "If only I had done something differently" is what everyone says. It's always the simple things we wish we'd adjusted. "If only I hadn't driven that way. If only I didn't lose my keys. If only I hadn't stopped for a coke". These are all the "if onlys" somebody thought one night when they drove by our house and looked up to see my bare husbands "you know what" modeling in front of our window.

          He says I'm the crazy one. He says "Not everyone is out there waiting to snap a picture of you naked". He opens the window and jokes about the paparazzi driving by. He laughs when I drop and roll every time the blinds are tilted. "Nobody is looking, stop worrying"! This is what he mumbles as he steps from the shower, approaches the window, and releases steam with our secrets. I'm writing this story to apologize to all the fine church going people who watch my husband at the pulpit and see one vivid image in their minds- and it's not his cute dimples.

            We live in an era of voyeurism. Not the Peeping Tom Perverts who hang at my residence, I'm talking about the Facebook/Blog stalkers. You know who you are and thank you for being my reader. I'm probably looking back at you. I love secrets, I love feeling a part of something big. I love to gawk at anything out of the ordinary. So do you. I know, because I'm driving behind you when you slow to 5mph and watch what used to be an accident, but now it's just a couple people roadside chatting.

            I don't want to see a gross butt hanging out a car window, but even more, I don't want to be the group member saying "What.....what happened". It's a fear I live with.... missing out. My lists of anxieties are becoming alarmingly long. Needless to say "Peeping Tom" is on there. That includes the sick Peeping Tomcat who overdoes it and climbs in outhouse toilets. I  feel too sorry to fear him. You can watch, just please don't grab. After looking through hunting binoculars, I'm even more nervous. Those superman eyes can see the tiniest freckle from miles away. Hunting goggles + hunting neighbors + a worry-free exhibitionist husband= perfect nightmare.

            I'm a giving person...and I'm feeling generous. It's an odd gift to hand out, but how appropriate via Internet. No one sees this, so count yourself privileged.  My gift to you is a scene that makes me love being married. It's my favorite time of night with my husband. The moment the lights go out but we haven't fallen asleep yet...............and no, it's not that.
to my dearly beloved veiled voyeurs..........enjoy
Scene starts with three distinct claps
Dean- We always talk about "The Clapper", but really, it would be a good investment. We shouldn't wait until we're old.......... Sighs with disappointment.......I'll get the lights.
Me- Make sure to turn on the fan, and tilt it up, I can't sleep with it blowing in my eyes and mouth.
Dean- Can't you just sleep with your eyes and mouth shut? 
Me- No, I really like my eyes and mouth open all night long.
Dean- What if we skipped turning on a fan, it's wintertime.
Me- That's crazy talk
Dean- You would know.
Me- begins chuckling.
Dean- Did you tell yourself a joke?
Me-I don't need jokes when you're wearing a retainer.... it will always be funny. When I see or hear it, I will laugh every time. Thank you Doctor Perry.
Dean- You think it's sexy.
Me- You're not aloud to say sex when that's in your mouth.
Dean- Grabs my neck like he's strangling me
Me-  Just remember, it's you who falls asleep first.
Dean- You couldn't choke me with those bird hands if you tried.
Me- Squeezes Dean's neck with my "bird hands" as hard as I possibly can, while he flexes his Incredible Hulk neck. 
Dean- resisting laughter at my pathetic murder attempt......You're crossing the "line" to my side of the bed... a disagreement over line issues begins. It goes on a while but ends calmly with good nights and I love yous. Sleep process starts............................................................
Me- Dean.................................................................................Dean........................................
Dean- .....................................groan, What?
Me- If we found a house for an incredibly low price and we absolutely loved it , but, also found out a husband had brutally murdered his entire family there, would you still buy it?
Dean-Yes
Me- I wouldn't. I would think about it all the time.................................begins thinking and worrying.
Dean- Falls asleep peacefully in one minute.
Me- Insomnia and restless legs begin.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Demolition Lovers

            Whether it's you verses I or us verses the world, most of us have been in intoxicating relationships sequined with dramatic flair. "Demolition Lovers" is both a beautifully vivid oxymoron as well as a song by "My Chemical Romance." A young couple in love, despite the world's rejection, run away together as vagabonds/lawbreakers and end up in a gunfire blaze of glory. This is the kind of stuff I ate up as a pimply teenager....and still.... I'm mystified by as a pimpled adult. Some things never change.
           We grow older, we cultivate wisdom , most of us avert from self-seeking recklessness.  I will always and forever be a girl who loves to be in love, but love of love(singular) has turned into love of life(plural). Let me clarify. The focus is no longer about the first kiss. It's about the smile that follows. That smile divulges a million different things. It shouts confidence and excitement while whispering vulnerability and embarrassment. The smile confesses experience...the real treasure.

           These blissful gems look like a perfect play to a running touchdown- caught by your timid nine year old. They sound like the opening song to your favorite band you road tripped to follow. They taste like his chapstick you just stole the "fun" way. They smell like a new baby; that tender sweet smell which can only be titled heaven. Can heaven be bottled? Can the taste of water be described?  It tastes like sulfur if you live in Florida. If you live northwest it tastes like a new baby smells.

           I had a high school boyfriend/obsession. I would have rather slit my wrist or run off in a blaze of gunfire than be kept away from him. New love is like the atomic bomb of emotions. I still crave those immature emotions now as a married woman of 11 years, but resist them. Reality has shown me  that obsessive love is poisonous. Lasting love is stable. Perfect happiness brings together stability and passion like a 6 and a 9.  Passion appears in hilarious forms.

           Some call it "mid-life crisis" I call it re-detaining the awesomeness that dashed out the door when I was wiping a bum(the baby's, not mine, awesome doesn't run away from my butt). It's the reason I'm writing again, it's the reason Dean bikes like Lance Armstrong. Alright, so I'm not quite mid life yet, but I might as well be...when the hell do you see a 66 year-old at a hard core rock show after rock climbing?....Never. The ugly truth is this.... my time is limited and that scares the  poppycock  right out of me.

            I love passionate people. I really want to meet someone who buys those ridiculous steamy romance novels. The cover art alone makes it a "white elephant" winner. People must buy them because they're at every grocery store,  and take up an entire section. You've got a wall of Fabio on your right and a hundred different twilight knock-offs on your left. A tiny section of classic literature, and a wee bit of world events and scripture.  I'm going to buy a romance novel for the sole purpose of flipping it open poolside with friends and family. I'll just act like it's any other book club read. It's a win/win decision. I bring laughter to the party, and Dean gets more sex.  I'm going to have to steal the book, however,  because no self-respecting adult can walk to the check-out register carrying this.
                                                 
He doesn't look like a sniper. It is a sexy occupation, but where's his gun? How do you conceal it in black stretchy pants? Maybe that's his trick. What you think is naturally him is really aiming to kill instead of impregnate. And the title....a little redundant. He'd be a lousy sniper if he wasn't  secret. Great, now I'm interested in the plot. Also, I'm inspired. My next story is going to be about Dean and my love adventures.

                 Physical beauty is wasted on youth. It takes a lot of experience to beautify the inside. When the inside is finally glowing the outside is regretfully sagging. It's the ultimate contradiction. One of the many oxymoron's we live with. Sweet sorrow, alone together, unbiased opinions, insane logic, minor crisis's, constructive criticism, silent speech. Even love and hate go hand in hand. We all have a love hate list that grows longer with age. Here's some of mine. It's on the wall next to "people to pray for", and "people to kill".

        My Love Hate List...the loving is easy....usually.....and it's a good thing I love you.
1.  Babies...They're ticking time bombs. Ready to blow screams or poop wherever, whenever. They send me right to the pharmacy for anxiety prescription. I will yank out my boob anywhere, covered or not, just stop the crying!!!!!
2.Marriage....I'm the luckiest girl in the world....but sometimes....hands in choking motion, visions of repetitious beating.
3. Food....I bet factory employees ask the same question numerous times. "Are you sure anyone is going to want to eat this? Wont it kill them"? Response..."Shut up, and pour in the orange powder"! God stamped "Cheeto Inventor" on somebody's head. Then mixed "loves Cheetos" in with my DNA. It's a sick joke on me given that the main  ingredient of Cheetos is Cheetle. What the Devil?
4. Sex......If anything is ailing me Dean says "I've got a cure for that".  He gets a light chuckle from me if  I have a small cold, but when I'm pregnant and puking......your fricken "cure" is why I'm in this frickin mess!
5. Stay at Home Mom ....It's the most bittersweet job without pay. I am grateful and will never regret my decision. I will regret
                     a. Poops for paychecks
                     b.  raging tantrums for reviews
                     c. "I hate yous " for interviews
                     d.  kids in combat for company parties
                     e.  mayhem for meetings
                     f.  laundry stains for lunch
           I can't quite say I'm experienced or Innocent, but I am swimming to the deep end. It would be too simple to stay shallow. Not take chances or try new things. Adolescence was scary in a bi-polar  kind of way. Adulthood is also scary. I created a new generation of myself.
                      I'm just going to keep on swimming and try to avoid that brown thing floating by.
                                                                     
                                                       
                      

         
        

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Dean vs. the octopus

                 There are three animals that I cherish, respect, and want for a pet. A bear, a penguin, and an octopus. My husband ate one of them. He couldn't stick with talentless animals like chicken, beef, and fish like the rest of us meat-eaters. Nope, he went out on business, had extravagant dinners with bigstuff merchants, and came back with octopus and possibly other exotic animals in his belly.  He wasn't even dining with Asians. Those countries are all about eating magnificent or rare creatures.

                In his ignorant consumption, he ate a mollusk that not only tasted "gross," but has the mimic ability overcoming that of a chameleon. His dinner was literally "smart food" .  On top of being superbly awesome, octopuses are "conceptual thinkers". They can unscrew jars to get pirate treasures and mirror both colors and shapes even though they are color blind(crazy right?). After learning how to escape, these Houdini artists use long and short term memory to flee faster on round two. 

           I think it's really important for me to continue these facts...especially if Dean is starting to feel guilty:)  They are stealthy little devils that spray their ink before they go after their prey...to keep it cheeky sneaky. If a tentacle gets severed, no worries, Octo-incredible just grows a superior one (unless he's been boiled, filleted, and passed around by business men). They have three hearts and blue blood as well as shoot nerve poison and fly spaceships.

          Want some more?.... I can't stop anyway....... My favorite thing about Octopuses besides their superhero GI Joe camouflage is their maternal nature. There are a lot of lousy human moms( Casey Anthony), but these creatures will sit on their eggs no matter what! Many of them die of starvation for their babies.

          I can't own one of these creatures for a few reasons, but mainly because I'm afraid she'll escape her cage, crawl into our bed, and put the moves on Dean(or kill him with a knife).
          Some researchers say that if Octopuses lived a lot longer then 3-5 years, they would accumulate so much information becoming the "dominant intelligent on earth".

                                          Here's what recently happened

                        These creatures are just too sophisticated to not have a secret life.




What Happens if Octopuses Live Longer
                                                                 Or Heaven forbid 
You can imagine that's yourself if you are a girl reader. If you are a boy... the octopus has either
A. Stolen your body and found a way to attach himself to it
   B. Jumped on top of your head to molest your girl.
or
                                  C. Figured out how to grow a human body so a new half breed is possible.
I vote for C because option C turns this             Hot Bod   
                                                         
                                                                                     into
                                                             A Hot Bod Cephalopod
                                                     
This story is dedicated to Craig Storms.
Also, I want to thank the researcher that really believes Octopuses could dominate the world and this picture below is definitely plausible. 

                                                
         
                            For jaw dropping bewilderment check this out                                                             
http://www.sciencefriday.com/videos/watch/10397                                    
                                                                                                                         















 













                                              
                            

Friday, September 2, 2011

irrational fears

              Irrational fears are funny. I like them. I don't like being afraid of things, especially ridiculous things, but I love that human beings are made with quirks and flaws and outlandish terror. I shouldn't say your senseless fears will never happen, because these horrendous things do happen to your unfortunate auntie's brother's cousin who lives across the country. Then our irrational fears accumulate validity.  A person ends up with a snake in their toilet and God is up there chuckling while that sucker is screaming- because irony is almost as funny as irrational fears.

              I'll tell you what is not funny....boring conversations. It is sooo not funny, that I avoid large group get togethers at all costs.  Boring converstations suck my soul and dry up my bone marrow. I despise small talk, but don't have much choice with societal norms breathing down my neck. If I had it my way, my conversation choices would bypass "what's new?" and "how are your kids/job?," drive right over potty training success, and stop with lights on to horror stories and fears(but only if they're irrational. I don't want to hear about your money problems.) I've learned the hard(but fun) way that this method of communication equals uncomfortable people/abandoned friendships.

              I thought I'd share my top five irrational fears. They may be silly to you, but all of them are worthy of a code red catastrophe. I'll start with the least frightening to the wakemeupinthenightwithworry severity. Also, I'll give proof that this stuff really does happen, and I'm not completely crazy...just...allowed on the streets, but watch your back kind of crazy.
Number 5..... I'm afraid poop is going to fly in my mouth......I don't know who is flinging feces, I just don't want it flung into my mouth. This fear might not even be irrational, poo has been airborne in my house before. With three kids I have seen crap in forms unimaginable. It's shot up the back of clothes, it's been mistaken for raisins and picked up with my bare hands , it's been smeared on multiple occasions. I've seen it like this

and like this

 almost daily like this

I didn't take these pictures. I googled poop(don't do that!). They bring back bad memories and repressed anxiety. It's not just crap  I'm worried about. It's anything gross; whether it's popped,squished,released or kicked- I'm terrified it's heading towards my mouth.

Number 4......I'm afraid of getting shot while I'm driving.  I just know the person next to me is holding a gun out the window and I'm too frozen stiff to look over. It's absolutely deranged because #1 I've never seen a person who even resembles a gangster in my neighborhood. #2 It's not my driving-my driving rocks(my husband agrees, and he thinks everyone is an idiot driver.)#3 What souless person shoots an innocent mother with children, really? Maybe if I drove a minivan. I've wanted to shoot a couple of those. However, I have these bizarre delusions of being shot. That's why I turn at you and flinch. It's what I'll be worrying about while I run the red light and flatten my family. You may be next to me flirting and making eyes, but all I see in my peripheral vision is this

Number 3....I'm afraid a bear will eat me. Not lions, tigers, wolves, sharks...just bears. It's a queer fascination to say the least. I'm obsessed with them, but have recurring nightmares of them. While camping in Durango, CO I spent my whole shower with worry, fretting a bear was going to wander into the bathroom and corner my vulnerable naked cheeks. To be attacked would be horrific-but attacked while nude? I'm soul-searching to clarify if I'm more afraid of getting my boob bit off, or running in the buff around the campground with a hungry bear in pursuit. But I am Emily and I face my fears head on, so Dean and I went bear hunting at 3am that night. I watch every documentary on bears-I know all their rituals; I sleep with stuffed bears, I want a baby bear for a pet. That being said, I will not sleep a wink in a tent. Every twig cracking is a bear planning to pull me from my sleeping bag and turn me into a bear burrito. My hunting friend scouted one out for me the other night. The excitement of seeing a wild bear(from a distance) was like relosing my virginity. To my bear friends.. "I know we'll meet one day...I love you but want to kill you."

     
Cuddle em                                                  Kill em

Number 2......I'm afraid I'll look over while showering, and there will be a strange man standing there.  Let me clarify right away, I'm not afraid to be seen naked; I fancy being naked. I hate sleeping naked, but that's a story for another time. I like the way I look with clothes off, but don't surprise me in my bareness  or I'll flail about like a neurotic schizoid. Not only do I sleep with one eye open and mouth drooling(I can't help it), I also shower with an eye ajar. If I shut that eye to rinse out the shampoo it will open to a peeping pervert, so I keep it safely cracked.  I'm scared of what that psycho will do....will he stab me? Why don't I think about it at times other than the shower? Have I watched too many horror flicks? I worried about it with my bear situation as well. Maybe my real fear is being chopped while naked. This is real stuff people...it happens as sure as the sun rises, take a look.   http://www.nbcactionnews.com/dpp

Number 1.....I'm afraid of getting my eye poked out.  It's the most diabolic, hellish, horrific thing imaginable- an eyeball hanging from a face. I heard it hangs from tendons or strings and what the hell? Are we made like marionette's? Then what? We live with a gaping black hole on our face? I'll tell you this much....if  this nightmare ever happens, I will get the fanciest most wicked-awesome skull and cross bones diamond studded eye patch to make lemonade from lemons. A fake eyeball is as disturbing as a hanging bloody eyeball yo yo. I'll be a frightening grandma snoozing with my fake teeth out and eye patch on. The grandkids will dare each other to look under the patch. They'll lift it up and find........booty......arrrrgg