I write about nothing of importance, which is important...to me.

Monday, June 27, 2011

Every Rose Has its Thorn


At a first glance, this award might be seen as nothing other than lovely.

But can you believe what the creator snuck into the picture? (It's nothing Disney-esque, so don't freak out if your child is viewing this.)

I'm having a hard time believing this, myself.

Take a closer look. I promise it's there.

Did you see it?

The teacup has a handle that resembles a rose's thorn.

Is Quirks of Matter is trying to give me a hint?...why would she give me an "award" that has four pink roses sitting in a thorned-theme teacup? What is she really saying? That my blog may look beautiful, classy, exquisite, divine, stunning, and angelic from afar, but once you get closer, it pokes you? I mean, like a real, sharp poke--not like one of those "friendly" Facebook pokes (it's fun poking fun at pokes). For those of you who aren't following, it's reasonable to conclude that this One Lovely Blog Award was a (subtle) reminder for:
Shannon has a pleasant, nay, lovely blog. It's comparable to the essence of a cup full of roses. Her stories are all nice and fluffy (like a bed teacup of roses). She is sharp, like the thorns of a rose, and you can get a feel for what I'm talking about when you read her stuff. About 9% of her posts have a punchline at the end that really gives you a sharp pain in your side from laughing so hard. I imagine that's what a rose thorn would feel like...if you were ever lucky enough to be poked by one...in your side. Her blog smells nice...while roses, well, they really smell like poo-oo-ooo [as revealed by the omniscient Outkast]. Shanimal's Crackers is just my cup o' tea, but Shannon looks more like a teapot--short and stout. Oh, and I've seen a few of these hearts around her page, so she really MUST be lovely.

Well, I GUESS I'll accept this award, but only because I think it's a pretty accurate description of my blog... minus the part where I look like a teapot...! Obviously. And for those of you who I'll be awarding this lovely, award to, don't worry, it's safe. I had Kudos taste the roses for me, to make sure they weren't too sweet or too sharp. She's was my guinea pig. That's a funny joke because she's really a cat. Ha. Ha. 

Look, I even have a picture of her taking her first sip, while wearing a very lovely rose headband.

Get your own rose headband for only five orders of $14.99! Available while supplies last.

And, no, this photo is not doctored. Anyways, here's what Kudos had to say about the cup full of roses and thorns:: Drinking this cup, I compare it to a kiss from a rose on the gray. 

And...I don't know what that means.

Sooo, moving along: I'm handing One Lovely Blogger Awards to not one, but to FIVE beautiful lovely bloggers:

Don't forget to stop and smell these roses!

Oh, and I forgot, but I have to list 7 r.a.n.d.o.m. facts about me, The Lovely Blogger, here:

-I like to customize any blog award I may receive.
-I lied. The above picture of Kudos IS doctored. 
-I don't think you could tell that the above picture of Kudos is doctored, but I needed to tell the truth, as not to feel guilty about lying. Plus, what would all (3) of my family members who may come across this post think about me? I can't believe that Shannon lied in print. In print! We're disowning her.
-Crap. I'm feeling a guilt-session come on. Okaaaaaay, so Kudos didn't really say, "Drinking this cup, I compare it to a kiss from a rose on the gray," but I have never understood those lyrics from Kiss From a Rose by Seal.
-I wonder what Seal did to get Heidi Klum to marry him.
-I am lying in bed. I don't know when to use "laying" or "lying." Guys, I already told you: I'm lying--so, of course, the previous sentence was a lie.
-I have to stand on the tub to alternate the shower head.

Wow, it was REALLY hard to come up with those facts. No, guys, seriously. I'm not even lying. Okay, I AM lying...down. I bet you couldn't tell if I was lying there or not, huh?

Monday, June 13, 2011

The Ninth Thing in Common

"What?!" This was only my third time in a row repeating this question.

"I said what song is this?!" He yelled at me from 3 inches away.

"Oh, this is Party in the USA by Miley Cyrus!" I yelled back him, who was a mere 3 inches from my face.

"Who's that?!"

"Some stupid Disney girl!" I had to yell so that my new guy friend and I would be able to hear each other over the screaming girls who jumped in excitement over the tween song.

"I think all the Disney girls should be punched!"

"Yeah, I agree! Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears, Miley Cyrus...!" Wouldn't it be nice to slap these girls back to reality?

Okay, so this guy and I were getting along great. We seemed to have at least one thing in common: we didn't know how to bridle our innate rage other than wanting to slap millionaire girls who possessed no talent.

Now, usually, for this type of deep conversation, I would have preferred to have been in a nice, quiet restaurant that has candlelit table tops, cloth napkins that go on your lap, where the servers are anxious to bring you four bowls of Fagioli soup, without muttering to themselves, "Dang, this girl's eating like this in front of a guy?!" Where bread sticks come and go at your request. Where you can take a tour of Italy just by ordering The Tour of Italy. This place is known as Olive Garden. However, the pounding dance floor that was full of guys and girls jumping to a Miley Cyrus song would have to suffice as a place where he and I could talk openly about anything and everything. It would only be right--after all, I only met him an hour ago, right in this very spot, and we needed to be loyal to our roots. Plus, uh, we had both come with a ride.

Every night in my dreams
I see you, I feel you
That is how I know you go on

A slow song interrupted our unbridled topic of conversation about how all Disney girls turn out messed up.

"Do you wanna dance?"He said with his hand making its way toward mine. This intriguing guy wants to touch my hand?! I think I may or may not have had a heart attack at that moment.

"Uh, sure." I shrug. "But I don't know how to dance." Play it cool, Shannon, play it cool.

"It's okay. I don't either." We're meant for each other!

Second thing in common.

"You know, I have never seen all of Titanic," he remarked as he swayed me back and forth to the non-Disney girl song.

"I fell asleep in it. I also fell asleep in all three Lord of the Rings movies." Yeah, I know, I know, I have pure talent for the ability to make myself sound interesting.

"Really?! You should watch them again. I read all of those books." Glad I didn't tell him that I also fell asleep in Sherlock Holmes, Avatar, and Invictus.

"I tried reading The Hobbit but couldn't make it past the first chapter." I sure do know how to impress a guy.

"You're not one of those girls who has read Twilight, right?" What kind of girl did he think I was?!

"Um, no. I have never laid a finger on that book and never will."

"Good, but knowing that the author of that book graduated from BYU makes me feel a little embarrassed."

"You know, the makers of Napoleon Dynamite also attended BYU. And I hate that movie. You don't like it, do you?" Please say no. Please say no. Please say no.

"Well, it was funny the first time. Then it got annoying." He saved himself with that last sentence.

"No, it's always been annoying."

Third thing in common.

By this point I couldn't believe it. Was I actually talking to my soul mate? This guy and I seemed to have very similar tastes. Or...at least three things in common!

The fourth thing we shared in common was our love for Seinfeld.

"The only dance I know is The Elaine," I admitted to him. My secret was out.

I then proceeded to stick my fat thumbs up and do little kicks (with my little legs). And, I admit, I had never felt this comfortable in a guy's presence before. I mean, sure, I always make a fool of myself in a guy's presence, but this time was special. Let me rephrase that; I always make a fool of myself in a guy's presence, but this time was special, for it wasn't on accident.

"I also like The Carlton dance," I admit, "but I can't do it."

"The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air is awesome!"

Fifth thing in common. Is this guy perfect for me or what?

"Oh, hey, do you remember the head-banging dance move from A Night at the Roxbury?" He asks me.

"Heck yeah, I do!"

Our sixth thing in common. Aww.

"Okay, well, I'm going to go add that song to the request list. Is the song called What is Love?"

"Yeah, it's by Haddaway."

Is this guy perfect for me or is he perfect for me?

Shake Your Head Yes.

I decided to make this song our song, "...but if they play this song, I don't think anyone here will get the head-bopping reference, except me and you." Yes, I know. I'm a romantic.

For the hour and a half that this guy and I spent talking to each other, I had gotten him to dance, which, when I had first spoken to him, he made it clear that he doesn't dance. I had gotten this guy to open up to me. We were able to connect in some way. Some way that I'd never experienced before.

"Hey, I'm going to go get some water," he told me.

"Oh, I like water!" Seventh thing in common.

As we were having our water cooler chat, he admitted two things to me.

One: "My ride's leaving in a couple of minutes. But I think you're cool and fun. We should stay in touch." Our eighth thing we had in common...because I felt the same way. I think I'm cool and fun.


it's really too bad for me that we shared one last, very important ninth common interest: we were both attracted to guys.

I guess I don't need to tell you that the DJ never did play What is Love, but it would've been nice to hear the answer.

Friday, June 3, 2011

Sally's Contact

This was in Sally's inbox:

Saturday, March 12, 2011 3:00 AM
From:"Suzana N. V." <md.suzana@att.net>
To: undisclosed-recipients
Good day

Nice to meet you, my name is Suzana, I found your contact and I picked interest to contact you. I've something very important which I would love to share with you therefore, I would appreciate if you respond back to me so that I'll give you my full details. I am waiting anxiously for your anticipated co-operation.


This is now in Sally's outbox:

Friday, June 3, 2011 4:40 PM
From: "Sally Fernandez"
To: md.suzana@att.net
Re: Good day

My Suzana!

Oh, Suzana, now don’t you cry for me. For I’ve come from Alabama with a harmonica in a tree. Hehe, just kidding. I’ve been called a jokester. I’m even considering becoming a comedian. Do you think I’d be good at it, Suzana? I think so—because even just walking down the street, people point and laugh at me. Anyways, I’ve actually come from Mississippi. I hitchhiked the full 9 hours in order to serenade Billy last night. It was super fun! I got to meet a lot of different types of guys, and they all had one thing in common—they each drove a big rig. But Large Marge wasn't in it. <------That was a joke because Large Marge isn't real. At least Mom tells me she's only pretend because she's from a movie. But Frankenstein is from a movie and he's real. I know because I see him every year saying "Trick or treat, smell my feet." And every time I tell him no thank you. (And I don't know if I'm supposed to tell anyone this, but it can be our little secret: he's a lot shorter in person.)

They were all so nice to give me a lift! Especially since I was on a dark, dirt road in the middle of nowhere with signs all around that said Prison Area: Do Not Pick Up Hitchhikers. The first guy who picked me up asked to make sure I was a go-go girl. I told him yeah, obviously. I’m a girl on the go--that I was headed to see Billy! Then he told me how it was just my luck—that he’s been called Billy the Kid once or twice in his 70 years of life because he was, and I quote, "bad to the bone." I asked him if he knew my grandma because she has Osteoporosis, too. And then I told him that he sure doesn't look like Billy. because Billy isn't a kid. Then I think something got in his eye because his eye kept twitching. Oh, wait, there’s a word for that. Blink. He blinked at me.

That guy who claimed to be Billy was a liar. He wasn’t bad. He had a funny bone. Not a bad bone. I don't know where he came up with that. He showed me things I've never seen before. Like jelly beans. Gel candies. I think it's the same gel that Dr. Scholl's uses? That makes it all the tastier! In the shape of beans. Amazing. I'll tell you what, whoever invented jelly beans is a genius, pure genius. The next guy was pretty weird, though. The first thing he said to me was that I could be his prisoner of love. I told him that I didn’t see how that is possible, since I don’t want to go to prison. How I’ve never stolen anything in my life except that one time that I took a dead puffer fish out of a Wal-Mart fish tank. I gave that that away as a gift to my grandma, because she told me for her birthday she wanted a back scratcher. When she saw it, she fainted, out of surprise. A good surprise. What do you want for YOUR birthday, Suzana? When is your birthday, anyways? Billy’s is September 3. Do you think it’s weird that that one guy brought up my criminal history within the first 4 seconds of meeting me? I would never do that to you. The guy then said that we could make our own music. So, naturally, I took his harmonica from the glove box. Then he just stared at me. He didn’t even give me a blink with one eye. Then he asked me how I could be so stupid. But he’s the dumb one. If he didn’t want me to play the harmonica then why did he even mention music?

Sorry for blabbing. I’m ecstatic that you found my contact! I've been looking all over for that dang thing!! How did you find my contact information? Was it from this sign that I only posted on every tree around Billy’s yard?

Last night as I was sitting in the tire swing that I purposefully hung right next to Billy's house, to serenade him with my new harmonica, I accidentally bumped into his window when I was trying to catch a glimpse of his cute little face resting against his pillow. As I was against his window, the branch decided to collapse. I banged my head against the window (but don’t tell anyone else because my reputation could be ruined). That's when I think my contact popped out of my eye. Looking on the bright side, though, I can’t see anything out of my left eye. I think I’m in love. Love is blind.

I decided to take advantage of the 45 minutes that my face was squished against Billy’s window, and just gazed at him. I wonder if he was dreaming of me. After 46 minutes and 3 seconds, my butt started to get tired from sitting on that branch. I repositioned myself but I think in the process I hit Billy's window with my belly button, tongue, or something, because he shot right up and just stared at me. As if he'd seen a ghost...or his nightmare. I thought it would be best to coddle him, so I tapped on his window with my nail-less fingers. I yelled at him through his window that I’d been watching him sleep, and how he was perfect like an angel. Then I asked him to kiss my boo boo--that he'd be the only one to make my sore bum feel better. Then I called him my boo, for special effects, you know. He still stared at me. I knew that this request of mine would leave him speechless. It was his dream come true. Literally. So, as he got out of bed and crept closer to the window, paused, peered at me for five seconds, and then scowled, I knew that he was only nervous. He's probably never kissed a girl before.

Get this! He opened the window! I can’t tell you how excited I was. These were the EXACT words he said to me:

"Hey, you. Yeah, you. You can kiss my butt."

Then he slammed the window.

And closed his shades.

This is the moment my heart melted. I knew it all along. Finally he was man enough to admit it.

He wanted me to kiss him!

Okay, I can’t even tell you how excited I was (x56)! Did you know that's the most romantic thing that he (or anyone else) has ever said to me? (Wait, no, one time Billy told me 12 years ago in high school, that he was out of my league. I couldn't believe that he invited me to go bowling!) Anyways, he really DOES like me! How did you know when you were in love? I've been waiting years to hear these words from him. But I’ve always known that Billy like-likes me because I've seen him wear his I ♥ SF shirt to bed at LEAST 4 times this week.

I’m glad I’ve been able to have some girl-talk. Last time I tried talking to a girl, it was to Marcia, but that was months ago and she never replied to me. You’re the bestest friend a girl could ever have, Suz. Am I your bestest friend?

How I N.V. you, Suzana (Ha! Did you catch that? I made a joke using your initials. I crack myself up.), because you have ME as a friend. I promise I’ll be a good one. Just tell me what you want for your birthday and if there’s a boy you like.

Your Best Friend Forever and Ever and Ever and Ever and Ever and Ever (time infinity) and Ever, 

 Sally Fernandez

Here are some pictures of my left contact from when I first got it 2 years ago. These pictures are from all different angles, so you know you have the right one. No, not the right one. The left one. The left one would be the right one.

PS: Did you steal my contact?
PPS: If you didn't then I owe you a kiss. It won't be the chocolate kind of kiss. But you won't be disappointed! It'll probably be more medicated berry balm flavored.


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