Uncashable Checks

Hi, dudes! Sorry I haven't posted in so long (Umm, over a year? Oops!). I've been super busy making a baby and then keeping said baby alive and not crying. Also, I personally find it really hard to think of blog posts when all I've done all day is stare at the kid. But, you guys, I've had something on my mind for a while now and I need to discuss it with y'alls. You see, I've been listening to a lot of R&B for the last few months. This is related to motherhood in the sense that I no longer get paid for my work and that makes it difficult to listen to rap music, as rappers talk about getting money A LOT. Some of them actually never talk about anything else (I'm looking at you, Baby the Birdman). R&B artists address cashflow issues significantly less, but they use the same producers so there are a lot of sonic similarities. I should be happy. But as I listen to these songs, something keeps bugging me oh so much, which is that these R&B peeps are always making INSANE sexual promises that no one could ever, ever keep. Let's take a closer look:

1. Robin Thicke
Robin Thicke (son of Alan Thicke) actually isn't too overpromisey. I mean, he totally is for a normal human being, but in the world of R&B his hyperbole is pretty average.



Now, in case you didn't catch all the lyrics, Rob here just promised to solve ALL OF YOUR PROBLEMS with his penis. We will accept that as our median for the purposes of this post, and that level of overpromising pales in comparison to our next offender. That's right, dudes, I'm talking about the King of Sexual Overpromise,

2. R. Kelly
Hoo, boy. You're gonna want to hold onto your hat for this one.



To recap: Kells is proposing an entire 24 hours of sex. There will be a round TEN, after which he will get a second wind, resulting in more sex, which is going to make you yodel. Not, as I would think, give you all kindsa chafe, but yodel. Oh, and he probably got you fired.

But that's not unusual for R. Kelly, a man who has sung of sex that takes place in outer space, for Pete's sake. I know better than to take him even remotely seriously. The thing that makes this so bothersome to me, so egregious, is that what we know of R. Kelly's actual sex life tells us that not only is he NOT going to make you yodel, but he's probably going to put on a Zorro mask and pee on you. It's like if I told you to come over to my house to watch the secret 6th season of The Wire and eat free pizza FROM THE FUTURE, and then when you got there, I put on a Zorro mask and peed on you.

3. Ciara



CIARA IS GOING TO DAGGER YOU.

4. The-Dream



Now that is more like it! For those of you not familiar with the vernacular, to "put it down" is to do a pretty good job. Way to keep expectations somewhere reasonable, The-Dream! The craziest promise here is that he'll make you sleepy. Sounds great! I hereby name you my boyfriend for the duration of this blog post!*

Well, that was fun! I'll try to be here more often, but no promises. I seriously don't understand how those Mommy Blogger people do it.


*Actually, who am I kidding, I totally pick Robin Thicke. I have an inexplicable weakness for white dudes with gross facial hair. See also KFed and my husband when we first met.

PDXcuse Me

I owe Portland an apology.


In retrospect, I never had any real anger towards Portland itself. I'm pretty sure I was only mad because Portland kept luring away people I really like. And nothing makes me saltier than people I like moving away. Ugh. I'm sorry, okay, Portland? I was being a hater, and I apologize for talking shit. For, like, years.

I guess this change of heart has been in the works for a while. Me and the dude had a mini-vacay in P-Town (I can call it that now, right?) a couple years ago, and it was just lovely. Granted, we spent pretty much the entire time in strip clubs, smoking, drinking and carousing, and really, who wouldn't enjoy that? But I wasn't sold on Portland just yet. Until this morning, that is, when I found out about their food cart situation.




Apparently, Portland is awash with food carts, and nobody bothered to tell me about it.


View Portland Food Carts in a larger map

If that map were of Seattle there'd be, like, eight of those dot things. We are woefully lacking in food carts, which was much more of an actual problem back when I used to leave the house, but is still a blow to my hometown pride. What hurts the most, though, is that Junior Ambassadors cart exists and I have never been there. These guys specialize in weird ice cream flavors that make our ice cream "mavericks" look like a bunch of snivelling M.O.R. pussies (smoked salmon and cream cheese, you guys. Shit!), "panwiches" whatever that means, and being super fucking whimsical and adorable. Essentially, they are killing my life right now, and I will pretty much feel like half a person until I can convince someone (i.e. Landon) to drive me there. Look. This is how they choose to represent themselves:

AAAAAGH, why are they doing this to me?! You can read all about it at the Food Carts Portland blog. And while you're there, you might as well click around and start planning your food cart tour of Portland.

I feel good, you guys. I've never apologized to an entire city before (though there have been times when I certainly should have), and it's kind of delightfully cathartic. Maybe this will become a series. I have talked shit about a lot of places.
*

What it breaks down to is this: I kind of hate everywhere that isn't Seattle, just for not being Seattle. But what I am starting to realize is that just because I love my wife (Seattle), that doesn't mean I can't occasionally enjoy the charms of other women (cities). And maybe, just maybe, it's time to get me some strange. (Don't worry, this logic does not apply to my actual wife, by which I mean my actual husband, who, thank little baby Jesus, does not read this blog.)

* Did you know that if you Google image search "oops", you will see about a billion nip/labe slips? Neither did I, until about 3 minutes ago. Yowza.

A Vagina Monologue

Last night I saw a vagina on the Travel Channel. Straight up. VA...




I should clarify. It wasn't, like, on display or anything. It wasn't the focal point. It was just this naked-ass Indian lady who, by merit of being totally nude, happened to have visible lady bits. Somewhat jarring, but I got over it pretty quickly. And I get the whole National Geographic nudity clause, where indigenous tribes get a nudity pass because it's non-sexual and cultural and whatnot. Cool. I'm down. But I would like to argue that those standards should be applied to other peoples who have a culture of nudity. Specifically, I think these rules should apply to strippers and stripper-y ladies who go on reality shows in search of love. Or money. Or whatever. The kind of women who, when asked to "dress to impress", show up looking like this:



I watch a lot of VH1 reality programming, and I can tell you from experience, the nudity on these shows (which is always blurred, if not black-barred) is very rarely sexual. Usually, it is simply what has come to be known as a wardrobe malfunction. If you wear something that barely covers your nipples, at some point it will fail to do even that. Thusly:



See?! She's just wrappin' up some cords, and bam! Tit overboard. Non-sexual nudity.

What's more important, though, is that these women come from a nude culture, by which I mean they are strippers. Nudity is what they know. It is their way of life, and should not be blurred out.



They're just people, doing what they do, the way they customarily do it. Which is naked.



I just don't see the difference. Do you?

I was listening to Rick James this morning, and I couldn't stop wondering why he was never as big as Prince. I think I have an Idea:

Sex sells, and they were both pretty sexual dudes, both in content and packaging, right? But while Prince's lyrics were far, far filthier (compare Superfreak to Erotic City), he had a leg up on Rick as far as accessibility goes, and there was nothing to be done about it. Why, you ask?

Because Rick James was a big, man-ass dude:



who looks like he may actually do something real crazy to you, whereas Prince is an elf:




And if I've learned anything since Peter Jackson's Lord Of the Rings trilogy came out, it's that bitches love elves.



Also, this.

All Creatures Great and Small (are totally fucking crazy)

The Museum of Natural History is basically the best place I have ever been in my life. It's full of wonder and learning and taxidermy. Beat that. When we visited it last month I learned more in that 2 hours than I had in months. It was amazing. I also had an important revelation, which was this:

Fuck a Unicorn.

I see no reason to get excited over some mythical-ass bullshit, when there are so many unbelievable creatures that actually exist. Below, I share some of my favorites.


1. Platypus



I already knew platypus were cool, what with the webbed feet and crazy nose. And it's pretty sweet that they're they only egg-laying mammals. But did you know that these little weirdos were venomous? That is just crazy. They can't kill a human, but they will fuck your ass up for weeks, if not months. Also!! (and this is where my mind was thoroughly and irreparably blown) they hunt by electroreception, which means that they sense electric fields caused by muscle contractions!! Whoooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaa!!!

What is up with Australia? That island is fraught with difficulties and super-weirdness. Hey, while we're on the subject of Australia's endless bananas-ness, let's talk about

2. Koalas!!



I have long thought of the koala as my spirit animal. We have a lot in common. Slow metabolism, penchant for long naps, beloved of children, and we both harbor really bad tempers behind our fuzzy exteriors. But I, unlike a koala, only have one vagina.

From Wikipedia: Females have two vaginas, both of which open externally through one orifice but lead to different compartments within the uterus. Males generally have a two-pronged penis, which corresponds to the females' two vaginae.^[3] The penis is used only for discharging semen into females, and is separate from the urinary tract.^{[citation needed]} Both sexes possess a cloaca,^[3] which is connected to a urogenital sac used to store waste before expulsion.

Okay!

3. Giant Squid

HELL.



TO.


THE.



NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!



Oh my god, you guys. I hate the ocean so much. And y'know what? Clearly the ocean hates us, too. As Lindsay put it, "Waves are there to physically push you out of the ocean." And that is just fine by me. I know where I'm not welcome.

4. Cuttlefish

Best animal ever. Just watch the damn-ass video.



Can you do that? I can't do that.

Kanye, So Blue

Last night, while watching the video for Kanye West's Heartless I had a realization-

If you could cook down an album the same way you do a liquid, Kanye's latest album "808s and Heartbreaks" could be, after simmering in a pot for an hour or so, reduced to this:

real talk.

Magic Potion

Season changes are the worst, man. Yeah, there's the whole promise-of-a-new-day, Paula Abdul-y thing. And, sure, the leaves are all beautiful and shit. But it is really hard to enjoy all of that when I feel like a turd on a cracker.

(I considered including an image of fake poop here, but that would be super gross and I like you too much to put you through that. So, you're welcome, I guess.)

I felt bad, dudes. Just sluggish and forgetful and gross. Plus, I had developed one giant zit right on top of my cheekbone. I normally have devastatingly clear skin, so this was quite a blow to my self-image. I felt like I had been eating pizza every day for weeks without the actual fun of eating pizza. God, I love pizza.



And then I remembered that I had decided to attempt some health-nutting. This created an awesome convergence of motivators (vanity, internet promises, distaste for physical exertion) that happened to coincide with a paycheck, leading me to this solution.



This shit got me high, y'all. I knew anti-oxidants were good for you, but I had no idea they would make me feel like I just got back from a yoga retreat where I won a Nobel Prize and married Rahm Emanuel. I felt so good it was weirding people out. Sometimes you really can buy your way out of a problem!



True dat!

Okay, dudes. The election is over and I don't know what to do. For the last few months I have immersed myself in political news for up to five hours a day, which was not the healthiest behavior, but God, was it fun. But it's over! Barack Obama is President-Elect of the Galaxy, Joey Buttons is busy getting his mane refurbished for Inauguration Day, Sarah Palin took her kooky ass back to the tundra, and Walnuts McCain was last seen yelling at kids to get off his lawn somewhere in Real America. Ugh, I miss the campaign already.

I need a hobby!! I've been working on a list of possible ways to spend my time. Here's what I've got so far:

1. Charcuterie

Have I ever told you how much I love cured meats? If it wasn't so expensive, I would snack on salami slices like chips. My Death Row meal would be prosciutto lasagna. One time I saw David Allen Grier on the Martha Stewart Show talking about how he made his own prosciutto. It was inspiring. I think it's time I got around to curin' some meats!!

Culinary Communion in Beacon Hill has a monthly 5-hour class that just might fit the bill. They have a bunch of other classes that sound great, like Handmade Pasta, Stocks and Sauces, and Truffles (oh my god yes).

2.Let's Learn Spanish!!



When I was eight, me and my mom lived in Mexico City for 6 months. I arrived fluent in swear words (thanks Grandma!), but unable to speak the language in any functional way. I left straight-up fluent, but I was so mad at Mexico that I refused to speak Spanish once we got back to the states, and I lost the language completely. I think it's time to forgive (I already forgot) and relearn the language of my people (on Mom's side). Or not. Now that I think about it, it sounds kind of boring.

3. Getting Wonky With It



I've decided to keep my head in the game and stay up to date on policy. I probably would have been doing a better job of this all along had I not been suffering through an administration that made me want to stab myself in the head for the last eight years. I'm looking forward to getting really dorky about it, now that I won't be distracted by skyrocketing blood pressure every time I try to read up on politics. But I will also try to moderate my intake.

4. Health-Nuttery


This one is kind of a challenge for me, since I am allergic to raw fruits and vegetables. No, really. So I have to get really creative to eat healthy, and I have to count on a lot of supplements. Fortunately, shopping for supplements is my idea of a good time. The more expensive and frivolous, the better. Maybe I'll start drinking Borba Skin Care Water. That sounds fun. But I draw the line at actually working out.

Is there anything else I should consider? What do you do for fun? I really want to know.

Unexpected Bonus to Obama Presidency:

Sexy, sexy Congressman Rahm Emanuel as Chief Of Staff? Does this mean he'll be on Meet The Press a lot? Because that is exactly the change I need. Way to hold my interest, Barry.



I can't handle it.

Carol's Daughter

Remember when I decided I would only use two beauty products for my entire body? Well, it did not work out, you guys. My scalp itched, like, constantly, and my hair was limp and tired. It had no body at the crown, which I've been told is very (very) important. My skin was, to put it mildly, sub-ethereal. Oh, I was sad. While I am still fully freaked out by unregulated chemicals in the shit that I put on my face (!!!), I am simply too vain to stay the course. So, off to Sephora I went. (For the record, I fucking hate Sephora, but their particular brand of awfulness has been well-documented, so I'll stick to the story.)

Now, I was already aware of Carol's Daughter products, thanks to the lovely Mindy Kaling, but had never come across them in person. And while I normally defer to Mindy Kaling in all matters, Carol's Daughter is also endorsed by Jada Pinkett Smith, a women whose tastes I find questionable at best (Wicked Wisdom, anyone?). Sephora carries their hair and body products, and I was excited to check them out. One thing though: how exactly am I supposed to assess a hair product without actually using it? Do you know what I mean? I tried rubbing something on the back of my hand, but all it did was make me feel like a girl with hair stuff on the back of her hand. It also made me smell like Erykah Badu.



Not that smelling like Ms. Badu is a terrible thing, but I am a busy woman, and I don't need strangers stopping me to ask where the nearest slam poetry reading is every time I leave the house. And anyway, Black Hippie-ness is a slippery fucking slope. One moment you're just trying to find a paraben-free moisturizer and the next thing you know you're at Waid's Haitian Lounge talking to some dude in a Dead Prez t-shirt about Frantz Fanon, and you're totally okay with the word "punani." Or so I'm told. (BTW, just typing out "punani" almost made me yak.)

But I persevered, dudes. I waded through the whole product line until I found one that seemed geared toward my needs; a curl product that has lots of moisturizers and offers control, but does not shellac, and is free of scary baddie chemicals! Plus, it smells like lemongrass and roses, which doesn't evoke any goofy sub-cultures that I am aware of. It's called Hair Milk and I am into it. Apparently it won some Best of Sephora award, which is kind of impressive considering how many products they carry, but whatever. All I know is that I used it and now I look purty. Happy ending!!


Quick Programming Note: Sorry I haven't written in so long, but I got a day job this summer, so now I'm rich but I'm low on time. So it goes! I'll try to be here more, whatever that means.

Bobby!

Lately, I've been thinking about the RZA a lot. And when I say "lately", I mean for about twelve years. I guess what I should say is that I have been thinking about the RZA even more than I normally do, and for two reasons:

1. Wuchess.com



I am really tempted to join Wuchess, even though I am not a skilled enough chess player to get to the point where I could play the RZA (that being the obvious draw). I want to join out of an almost sense of obligation, as it was the Wu-Tang Clan's influence that got me to play chess in the first place. Well, that and my brother's hectoring.

2. RZA as Bobby Digital
I have tickets to see RZA next week, and after ten years of failed attempts, I firmly believe I will actually see him this time. It almost happened this last December when I saw the rest of the Clan, but they were beefing pretty hard with R. Diggs at that point, so he was the only member absent. I was heartbroken. Fucking Capadonna was there, but no RZA.



But this time it's just him, and he's pretty responsible these days, right? Knock wood. Ugh, now I'm starting to doubt it. I'd say "fool me twice", but these Wu motherfuckers have burned me like, eight times. I'm an optimist, but they make it very difficult for me sometimes.

Update: I forgot to say this before, but I'm pretty sure I heard the RZA yelling "Bobby!" in the background on an episode of The Wire. Check it out. 3rd season 2nd episode, when Herc is telling Carver about his naked pastry chef fantasy.

What I'm Into Right Now, Pt. 5

Oh, it feels good to be home. Let's get reacquainted with a new edition of What I'm Into Right Now!

1. Man vs. Wild



We've been watching the first season, and it's starting to cause a Green Acres style rift in my marriage. Landon watches this shit and wants to buy a flint and head for the rainforest. I, on the other hand, see an episode and want to rejoice in the awesome comforts of city living. When I see Bear Grylls crawling through a glacier tunnel or eating raw zebra, it makes me want to go downtown and buy, like, an anti-aging eye serum (even though I'm 26 and probably won't wrinkle anyway. Melanin, woot woot!), take a cab home, order a sloppy wet pizza, and eat it while watching Ghostbusters on streaming Netflix. But we keep watching it because it is incredibly entertaining and Bear Grylls is a fucking babe.



Dahling, I love you, but give me Park Avenue.


2. Pacific Galleries Antique Mall

Ryann took me to this place a couple months ago and I fell in love. It's basically a huge warehouse divided into stalls where antique dealers display their wares. It's kind of overwhelming at first, and a lot of the stalls are too cluttered to even deal with. Once you get past the initial shock, though, the place is full of gems. My favorite booths are the ones that reek of monomania. Like the one that is filled with hundreds of lamps, or the glass case filled with mid-century ladies' hats.


3. Geodes

When I look at a geode, it makes me really excited to live on this planet.



Seriously. That is rad.

4. White Truffle Oil



You guys. This stuff is kind of ruining my life. It pretty much smells awful if you're not in the act of eating it, but couldn't that be said of many of the most delicious foods? My buddy Cody turned me on to it, and now I crave it daily. Sometimes I sneak into the kitchen in the middle of the night and put a tiny drop of it on my tongue. Wow. I just read that last sentence back, and I gotta say, I'm a little disturbed. Anyway, you should try it!

Eat It Up With A Spoon

So, I have this tendency to ignore my stomach. I'll know I'm hungry for, like, an hour and won't do anything about it. Not out of some weird self-denial eating-disordery thing, but sheer laziness (I'm actually doing it right now). Then, by the time I decide to fix something to eat I am a whiny, stupid mess, due to my blood sugar being abysmally low. Landon can tell you about it. It's super-annoying, and probably one of my worst traits.

In order to counteract this, I try to have some food I've already prepared waiting for me in the fridge. That way, when I am starving but totally unable to cook because my brain is shutting down, I can just grab some delicious little whatever, and go back to being a semi-functional adult. And today, I'm gonna share the recipe for one of my delicious little whatevers!! Let's call it, umm,

Chelsea's Awesome Tuna Salad!!

Okay! You will need:

3 normal-sized cans of tuna, or 1 really big one
1 can x-large black olives
capers
green beans or asparagus
black beans (cooked)
dijon mustard
apple cider vinegar
olive oil
couscous or potatoes. or neither. it's your call. (Whoa, I just realized why I never write down recipes. Let's just call this an outline, then.)

So. Take a sealable container that will fit all this stuff (I like Pyrex) and dump your tuna, which you have already drained well, into the container. Add some dijon mustard, apple cider vinegar and olive oil. I don't know how much I use, because I never measure. Maybe don't use too much mustard because it makes your nose feel crazy, yadaddamean? Oh!! Also, I like to use basil-infused olive oil for extra yumminess.


Mix all that stuff up and then start adding in the olives. I like to get the whole ones and break them up with my fingers. This is partly because I like to pop about every fourth olive into my mouth, but also I like to be really excessively intimate with my food. I've had a couple buddies observe that when I'm eating I stare my food down in a somewhat sexual way. I have also been told that I fondle my sandwiches. My hope is that my behavior is more charming than disgusting, but really there's nothing I can do about it, so fuck it.

Now you're gonna add the capers and black beans. You'll probably wanna use canned black beans, in which case just use half the can. As for the capers, it really depends on how much you like capers.


The green beans!! I have weird food allergies (no raw anything ever) so I use frozen green beans that I cook and cool before adding, but I bet raw or lightly steamed green beans would be delicious. Also, maybe some tasty little cherry tomatoes. Sometimes instead of the green beans I use asparagus, which is totally in season right now. Maybe throw in some parboiled potatoes, depending on your current relationship with carbohydrates. I bet broccoli would be good in this, too. God, I love vegetables.



Okay! So! Everything's mixed up all cozy, and all you need to do now is salt and pepper it. I like to serve it over couscous, because that shit cooks in two minutes, and sometimes I need a break from whole wheat pasta, which I eat every single day. If you make this let me know how it goes.

I have to go eat right now, I am freaking out.

All One!!

I am highly suspicious of the beauty industry. Let's take mascara, for instance. Do they really expect me to believe that mascara scientists have made a revolutionary discovery every three months, for the last, like forever? One month it's a polyamide (or what the fuck ever) in the formula, then it's all about some curling agent bullshit, and then they're literally trying to sell me on a magic wand. It's exhausting, and extends across the industry. Will someone please tell me what the fuck a "body ribbon" is supposed to be? I have an entire cabinet in my bathroom full of half used products, mostly body washes and lotions, bearing various promises of silky skin and whatnot.

Problematically, I am also very, very gullible. Add my natural curiosity to this mix and we have an explanation for the probable hundreds of dollars I have spent on faddish beauty products over the years. Maybe even thousands. Ugh. I'm kind of bumming myself out.

But I'm working it out, you guys!! And I have a plan! I am currently experimenting with Dr Bronner's Magic Soap.



According to the Doc, his soap can be used for the whole body, including hair and teeth. I'm leaving my teeth out of this, because I really love my toothpaste, but I'm gonna use it on everything else and see what happens! While I've been using it on my body for months, yesterday I used it as my shampoo and face wash as well, and I gotta say, dudes, I look pretty good. Also, it was the easiest shower ever. I only had one bottle to focus on. And focus I did!! Have you ever read the shit written on the Dr. Bronner's label? I love it!! My favorite parts:

"Breathe deeply! Health is Wealth. Within 9 minutes you feel fresh and clean, saving 90% of your hot water and soap, ready to help teach the whole Human race the Moral ABC of All-One-God-Faith! For we're ALL-ONE OR NONE! ALL-ONE! ALL-ONE! ALL-ONE!"

"ENJOY BODY RUB TO STIMULATE BODY MIND-SOUL-SPIRIT AND TEACH THE ESSENE MORAL ABC UNITING ALL FREE IN THE SHEPHERD-ASTRONOMER ISRAEL'S GREATEST ALL-ONE-GOD-FAITH!"

Sure! Why not?

I made a diagram of why I like this soap.



On a similar note, I am currently fascinated with the concept of one product for all my moisturizing needs. Kiehl's recently came out with this little wonder:



I tried it out on my hands and it was awesome. Also, it has a delightful citrusy smell that I would not mind having all over my body. Very springtime appropriate. When wearing a sundress, one should also smell like a lemon. Fact.

However, I am understandably sketched out by the price, and I'm not entirely sure that I believe in "dry oil." So. I'm gonna go take a shower with Dr Bronner's soap, and then I'm gonna just use almond oil on my body and face and see what happens. Wish me luck!

Snake People

Dudes, I am upset. Let me tell you a story.

This last Saturday was by far the most beautiful day Seattle has seen since this year began. Blue skies, perfect temperature. It was the kind of day that made you want to go to a barbeque. Which we did. In fact, it was basically the perfect sunny day, wherein you go buzzing around from one gorgeous social engagement to another with your beautiful, witty friends, enjoying the sunshine and reparte.

Until.

Until.


(Ugh, I am still so upset about this, I have to go find a picture of something really great that will make me feel okay again. Hold on.



That's not it. I feel different but not better. Ummm... let's try this:



That's not it either. Close, but-



There we go. Okay, I'm ready to get back to the story.)


Until!! We went to Golden Gardens to meet our buddies. It was about an hour before they start kicking people out but it was still packed. It was the busiest I'd ever seen the beach this early in the year. So we were trying to park the car, and I'm scanning the lot looking for open spots, right? When I see the fucking unthinkable!! I see a man


with



a



fucking



ALBINO FUCKING PYTHON DRAPED OVER HIS FUCKING ASSHOLE IDIOT SHOULDERS!!! A FUCKING PYTHON, YOU GUYS!!!


Who does that shit?! What kind of terrible person goes to the beach on the busiest day of the year with a giant terrifying snake? Do you know how many people are scared of snakes?!! Fucking everyone, that's how many!!

I apologize for all the swears, but I have seriously never been this upset in my life. I couldn't relax the whole time we were at the beach. I kept having to look behind me to make sure the snake guy wasn't chasing me. That may sound ridiculous, but it has actually happened to me. One time a few years ago, I was walking down Third and a guy started hollering at me, "Hey, girl, lemme holler atcha!!" I looked and saw he had a snake wrapped around his arm!! A much smaller snake, but still, a snake. So I yelled, "Nuh-uh!!" and quickened my pace. But he followed me! So I started walking really, really fast. Speed-walking, basically. But he kept pace! So I started running!! And he did too!! He chased me for like, two blocks before he gave up!!! It was awful, guys. So you see, my fears were founded in experience.

I don't even know how to deal with this shit. Some people are just horrible. That guy really crapped in my oatmeal.

Post a picture in the comments that will make me feel better about this world.