So this morning, it was a whopping 18 degrees out when I went to warm up my car. In my opinion, there is no reason Missouri needs to be this cold. We don't have snow ergo there is no need for the ridiculously cold weather. This put me in a grouchy mood the entire 30 minute drive to work and once I parked in my parking spot, I realized that the ice guy hadn't gotten to my area of the parking lot yet, so I had to be super careful not to slip and crack my head on the ice, which surely would have resulted in death with how my luck was going that morning.
Once I got inside I realized I had failed to bring any oatmeal or fruit for breakfast, so I made an emergency breakfast run to good ol Mickey D's, thus resulting in another trip out of doors into the freezing wasteland that Missouri has become recently. This spurned my idea of gaining enough political power to enact a law in which you are not required to leave your house if it is below 30 degrees outside unless you absolutely have to or if you're the snow and ice guys. One of my coworkers pointed out that by being president (which was my first idea) that my "law" would mostly likely be vetoed. This brought me great despair until I remembered that hey! We used to have all powerful monarchies before, why not again? Thus the idea of Queen Angie of the United States of America came about.
Some of my better ideas:
*Siesta from noon to four. That way you don't miss the best parts of the afternoon.
*No requirement to leave your house for work when it is under 30 degrees outside.
*Taco Tuesday! (That one speaks for itself, don't you think?)
*Pet a baby animal Thursday. I hate Thursdays and the only thing that seems to make it better is snuggling with my kittens, and I am sure I am not the only one who thinks this way.
*Automatic four weeks paid vacation with every job, as long as you have worked there for one year or longer. Anything less than a year, no vacation. Maybe (but maybe not) that will help the high turnover of a lot of jobs.
* Birthday weeks for all! If it's the week of your birthday, you get honored with balloons and singing and the dessert of your choice. Also, costume parties.
*Drama queen island. We send all the drama queens and self absorbed no good rotten people to an island to bicker amongst themselves and fight to the death. Last one standing can have the island to herself/himself until the next round of Drama queen island. I can think of a certain "i'm so crafty my life is so perfect oh em gee!" queen that would be on my short list for that island.
*Intelligence test for baby making. You have to be of a certain intelligence level and succefulness to procreate. If you don't meet these standards, you're not allowed to procreate and are forced to be chemically "barren" for lack of a better word.
*Funding for personal libraries. You want a personal library but don't have the means to build one? No problem! We will get someone to do it for you. Of course, you would have to fill it yourself though...
Those are just a few. I know that some of you won't agree with a couple of them, but that's why this is a monarchy and not a democracy. Also, this is my fake queendom. Get your own.
It should be noted that when I ran this idea by my coworkers they were vehemently against the idea of me (or anyone) being Queen or King. So no worries of me taking over, guys....
...this time. Muhahahahahahahaa!
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Friday, January 11, 2013
This one's for the girl with the closet complex: A story of sisterly love
So lately I have been thinking a lot about my sister Kasey, who is due to give birth very very soon (yay new nephew!) and how grown up she is now. It makes me remember all the wonderful, and not so wonderful times we had together growing up. And of course, by wonderful, I mean mostly wonderful for me. I kept her and Brianna in a fairly constant state of fear of my all knowing older sister powers. The main memory I keep coming back to, however, is the day I convinced her that we had a homicidal little girl ghost living in her closet.
A little backstory: When we lived in Ness City, KS, my parents had bought this really huge old house to remodel. In my sister's room, there was a door to a closet, and above the door, I had found a skeleton key while investigating all the nooks and crannies of their room for hidden treats. The key actually fit in the door, and I thought it was the coolest. thing. ever. I didn't share this little fact with my sisters and my parents, after inspecting the key, didn't really care what I did with it, so I hid it in my Little Mermaid jewelry box for a long time. Usually when we would play dolls, or house, we would do it outside or in the girls' room because it was larger than mine since they shared. They also had the majority of the toys in their room because while I still played with them, it wasn't cool to look like I still played with them. (I was around 9 or 10 at this point) One summer afternoon, Kasey and I were playing "ghost story" dolls, which is a much more demented and horrific version of the regular game, where dolls are murderers and ghosts and vampires. Remember, I had a very vivid imagination and was fed a regular diet of Tim Burton and the original Grimms fairytales, so this game was inevitable. While playing this game, I remember my key and a horrible, amazing, idea hatched in my brain. Now because this was around 14-15 years ago, I don't remember the exact conversation, but I am sure it went something like this.
Me: Kase, guess what?
Kasey: what?
Me: No, guess!
Kasey: Nooooo, tell me. tell me tell me tell me tell me.
Me: *huge sigh* FINE.
K:....
Me:....
K:........
Me:...
K: Just tell me already!
Me: Well, I am scared to tell you, because I am scared she will hurt me.
K: Who?! Who will hurt you? Mom?
Me: No.
K:Bri?
Me: No.
K:Grandma Popsicle? Grandma Edmonds? Grandma Goodell? Aunt Ann? Mrs Nicamore (my fourth grade teacher)?
Me: No.
K: well, there aren't any other girls.
Me: Yeah huh.
K:not uh.
Me: Uh huh.
K: no there isn't!
Me: Yes there is. She lives in your closet.
K: who lives in my closet?
Me: The little girl with the bloody dress.
K: *freaking out now* What little girl? No one lives in my closet! Why can't I see her? Is she dead? You're lying to me!
Me: No, I am serious! She comes down to my room at night and talks to me. She was killed in your closet, but not before she murdered her whole family. Then they turned into ghosts and murdered her!
K: Why does she live in my closet?? Does she want to kill me?
(At this point, the dolls are completely forgotten, and we are both staring at the closed closet door, and Kasey is almost in tears)
Me: She doesn't want to kill you, she likes you. She actually wants to talk to you.
K: About what? I'm scared. Let's go outside. (That's where mum, dad, and Tay were)
Me: Well, if you don't talk to her now, you might make her mad. And remember, she lives in your closet.
K: Do I have to go in the closet?
Me: Well yeah. Duh. Here, how about this. I will let you hold my stuffed animal for protection?
K: okay
I went and got my bear and the key and went back upstairs to Kasey's room. I handed her the bear and coaxed her into the closet. I also convinced her not to turn on the closet light because it might scare the ghost away. She freaked out a little when I closed the door, but I told her it had to happen for the magic to work. My poor sister, both terrified but trusting, let me close the door. And lock it. I told her she had to stay in there about five minutes and that I would let her out. Then I went downstairs and went to the restroom, and when I came out, mum told me I had a couple chores I needed to do outside.
And I completely forgot about my poor five year old sister locked in her closet, terrified of the "ghost" in there with her. I didn't remember for about 30 minutes and I rushed inside and unlocked the closet and Kasey flew out, bawling her eyes out and ran downstairs and outside, screaming that a ghost had touched her. In reality, it was probably one of her dresses shifting on the hanger, but the damage was done and she ran straight to mum and told her everything, who gave me a very disapproving look and took my key away. It was a very sad day in my summer. Poor Kasey, though, lived in utter fear of that closet for the next couple years until my parents built them a new closet and turned theirs into a bathroom.
I am sure that Kasey is over whatever psychological damage I probably caused her by locking her in the closet for half a hour, but she still doesn't trust me when I tell her to go into a room by herself. And she sure as heck doesn't trust me when I say that something menacing is friendly and she should go talk to it/pet it/be its friend. I realize I was a terror when I was younger. But being a terror was so much more fun that playing dolls. Or house. Or doing chores.
Love you Kaseydea!
A little backstory: When we lived in Ness City, KS, my parents had bought this really huge old house to remodel. In my sister's room, there was a door to a closet, and above the door, I had found a skeleton key while investigating all the nooks and crannies of their room for hidden treats. The key actually fit in the door, and I thought it was the coolest. thing. ever. I didn't share this little fact with my sisters and my parents, after inspecting the key, didn't really care what I did with it, so I hid it in my Little Mermaid jewelry box for a long time. Usually when we would play dolls, or house, we would do it outside or in the girls' room because it was larger than mine since they shared. They also had the majority of the toys in their room because while I still played with them, it wasn't cool to look like I still played with them. (I was around 9 or 10 at this point) One summer afternoon, Kasey and I were playing "ghost story" dolls, which is a much more demented and horrific version of the regular game, where dolls are murderers and ghosts and vampires. Remember, I had a very vivid imagination and was fed a regular diet of Tim Burton and the original Grimms fairytales, so this game was inevitable. While playing this game, I remember my key and a horrible, amazing, idea hatched in my brain. Now because this was around 14-15 years ago, I don't remember the exact conversation, but I am sure it went something like this.
Me: Kase, guess what?
Kasey: what?
Me: No, guess!
Kasey: Nooooo, tell me. tell me tell me tell me tell me.
Me: *huge sigh* FINE.
K:....
Me:....
K:........
Me:...
K: Just tell me already!
Me: Well, I am scared to tell you, because I am scared she will hurt me.
K: Who?! Who will hurt you? Mom?
Me: No.
K:Bri?
Me: No.
K:Grandma Popsicle? Grandma Edmonds? Grandma Goodell? Aunt Ann? Mrs Nicamore (my fourth grade teacher)?
Me: No.
K: well, there aren't any other girls.
Me: Yeah huh.
K:not uh.
Me: Uh huh.
K: no there isn't!
Me: Yes there is. She lives in your closet.
K: who lives in my closet?
Me: The little girl with the bloody dress.
K: *freaking out now* What little girl? No one lives in my closet! Why can't I see her? Is she dead? You're lying to me!
Me: No, I am serious! She comes down to my room at night and talks to me. She was killed in your closet, but not before she murdered her whole family. Then they turned into ghosts and murdered her!
K: Why does she live in my closet?? Does she want to kill me?
(At this point, the dolls are completely forgotten, and we are both staring at the closed closet door, and Kasey is almost in tears)
Me: She doesn't want to kill you, she likes you. She actually wants to talk to you.
K: About what? I'm scared. Let's go outside. (That's where mum, dad, and Tay were)
Me: Well, if you don't talk to her now, you might make her mad. And remember, she lives in your closet.
K: Do I have to go in the closet?
Me: Well yeah. Duh. Here, how about this. I will let you hold my stuffed animal for protection?
K: okay
I went and got my bear and the key and went back upstairs to Kasey's room. I handed her the bear and coaxed her into the closet. I also convinced her not to turn on the closet light because it might scare the ghost away. She freaked out a little when I closed the door, but I told her it had to happen for the magic to work. My poor sister, both terrified but trusting, let me close the door. And lock it. I told her she had to stay in there about five minutes and that I would let her out. Then I went downstairs and went to the restroom, and when I came out, mum told me I had a couple chores I needed to do outside.
And I completely forgot about my poor five year old sister locked in her closet, terrified of the "ghost" in there with her. I didn't remember for about 30 minutes and I rushed inside and unlocked the closet and Kasey flew out, bawling her eyes out and ran downstairs and outside, screaming that a ghost had touched her. In reality, it was probably one of her dresses shifting on the hanger, but the damage was done and she ran straight to mum and told her everything, who gave me a very disapproving look and took my key away. It was a very sad day in my summer. Poor Kasey, though, lived in utter fear of that closet for the next couple years until my parents built them a new closet and turned theirs into a bathroom.
I am sure that Kasey is over whatever psychological damage I probably caused her by locking her in the closet for half a hour, but she still doesn't trust me when I tell her to go into a room by herself. And she sure as heck doesn't trust me when I say that something menacing is friendly and she should go talk to it/pet it/be its friend. I realize I was a terror when I was younger. But being a terror was so much more fun that playing dolls. Or house. Or doing chores.
Love you Kaseydea!
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