Is It Really March Already?

Jesus.

Where is the fucking time going?

So, as Cal pointed out to me the other day, I haven't been writing on here as much lately.

I started a second blog on tumblr, and I spend a lot of time playing on it.

It's something that's quick, easy, and I don't have to think much about what I'm writing, like I do on here. Plus, I get to hang out with a bunch of girls that are just as Cumberaddicted as I am :)

And the reason that's so attractive to me right now, is because I've had a lot on my mind. I like the mindless escape of Tumblr (which they should really call Crackblr).

I don't like to talk about unpleasant things on here. No one likes a downer.

Lots of stuff going on work that I don't want to blog about. Or really shouldn't blog about. So that's out for discussion.

And the rest is mundane. And I've been a little sad.

Maybe I'm attracted to Tumblr because of the amount of followers I have over there. I AM an attention-whore in case you haven't noticed. :)

I've had it for a month and a half, and I just passed 800 followers. Which blows my mind. I feel like a cult leader.

The average age range of users over there is pretty young. Lots of teenage girls. I've made good friends with a few of the 'older' folk on there (older meaning 25-30).

The teenage girls are lovely, they're just excited fangirls, like me. Which is AWESOME.

But they make me sad sometimes.

So many of them feel so bad about themselves. Talk about how depressed they are. How ugly they are. How they're not skinny enough. Or pretty enough. How they just want to kill themselves. Or they talk about cutting themselves.

It doesn't happen all the time, or I wouldn't be on there. It'd be too sad. But once in awhile I'll see a post roll through my dashboard that contains those things.

I wish I could just hug all of them and tell them to be more confident and love themselves for who and what they are.

But I also remember what I felt like when I was that age. I felt the same, went through the same things, had the same thoughts. Confidence in who you are only comes with time. I'm glad it only took me till my mid-20's to not give a shit about what others think of me and be happy with myself.

I feel like I'm making a little bit of a difference though. I've received some lovely compliments to the tune of  'You make me feel like I can say what I'm thinking, because you say whatever you're thinking!' and the like.

That makes my heart happy.

I've also been doing a lot of fiction-writing the last couple of months. Nothing anyone on here would want to read, it's 'just' fanfiction (and gay fanfiction at that). But I love it. The story I'm working on is the longest thing I've ever written, and it's still going. And I'm proud of it. I've had over 3000 hits on it, and 150 people left me notes about how much they loved it. It may not be 'real' writing, but it makes me happy and gives me an outlet for creativity. Even if it's just for a select demographic.

Anyway, I hope something awesome happens to me every couple of days from here on out, so that I can write a little more often on here.

Thanks Cal, for reminding me that it's not the number of followers I have, it's the quality of the readers :) Everyone that regularly leaves me a comment on here is my friend. :)

Love you guys!

It Should Be Against the Law

...for me to own houseplants.

I actually can't believe that I haven't killed this one already. I've had it for...5 years?

It was fine until this last year. And I'm pissed off because I'm actually sort of attached to that plant.

Am I giving it too much water? Not enough? Does it need repotting?

I don't know if it's even repottable at this point. If I even so much as look at it, a piece falls off.

I keep expecting a little boy to ride through my living room on his Big Wheel croaking, "REDRUM".

Houseplants are my nemesis.

Ooh, look. I made it through a post without fucking swearing.

 DAMMIT. Oh well.

Converse Porn

Say hello to my new favourite possessions.

I don't know what it is about Converse, they are the sexiest fucking shoe on the planet.

I love them on chicks, I love them on dudes. I like them in a box, I like them on a fox.

This is getting a little Dr. Seuss, isn't it?

I bought Chuckles a pair for Christmas, and every time we go on a date, I make a request that he wear them.

Chuck Taylors for Chuck Adams. :)

Chuck wore them in the 70's when they were cool the first time. He said they were the cheapest shoe you could get, and everyone wore them for basketball.

He said he also enjoyed them because he could tromp through streams and puddles in them, and they'd dry really quickly. That's my Chuckles, the outdoorsy type.

And the real reason he's happy to wear them when I ask, is because I immediately want to have sex with him. With only the shoes on.

That THAT mental image to the bank and cash it.

If I had a penis, I totally would have sex with my new Converse, I would. Hell, even though I don't have a penis, I have to admit that I've tried it. And it was satisfying enough to make me want a cigarette afterwards. And I don't even smoke.

Look at the purple. LOOK AT THE FUCKING PURPLE.

And they've got a double tongue. I LOVE THE DOUBLE TONGUE.

Please take that as innuendo, because these shoes are pure, All-Star sex.

I suspect a Converse habit is forming. Especially since I found out you can custom design your own shoe online.

Like these:

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

ALL THE SHOE PORN!!!

Yesterday when I had to change out of them and into my work shoes, I got sad very quickly. The day went down hill from there.

In other breaking girly news, I also bought a purse this week.

I fucking hate buying purses.

It's just a container with a zipper. I will never understand how one could pay $10,000 for a bag to put one's shit into.

But then again, those same people might not understand the strong urge I have to hump Converse.

The tone of this post was so intellectual.

You're welcome.

We're Gonna Need a Big Cake to Fit All Those Damn Candles

Chuckles turns 50 today. :)

Chuck has been walking around yelling, "IIIIIIIII'm 50! 50 years old!" this whole last week.

You probably want to watch this video if you don't know what I'm on about.

Chuck's high kick isn't quite as high as Molly Shannon's, but then again he is missing a lung, so let's forgive him for that, shall we?

Some people celebrate their 50th birthdays by throwing a huge party, inviting friends and family from across the continent/world, just to congratulate them for making it this far or to make fun of them in front of everyone for being old. Or both.

What is Chuck doing for his?

Skydiving?

Running a marathon?

Scaling Mt. Kilimanjaro?

None of the above.

Chuckles shares his birthday with the Superbowl this year. We're going over to a friend's house to watch the game, eat some homemade corn dogs and clam chowder, and have just a few other good friends to help him celebrate.

And make fun of him for being so old. :)

Currently, he's lying in bed in his pyjamas (which he never does this late in the morning) watching nature shows. 

What a badass, huh? Well, he got his wildness out years ago, thank the sweet baby Jesus in the manger.

He's done a lot in 50 years.

Was born...obviously (Chuck's the one sitting in the middle)

Went to school and played sports... (ball's behind you there, little Chuckles)

Joined the Marines after high school...

Got out of the Marines and grew a beard...

Shaved off beard and met an awesome, hot, young, Canadian chick...

Survived cancer...

Married awesome, young, hot, Canadian chick...

Went on adventures to see all sorts of awesome things...(and he did get to climb a mountain as you can see, just not one in Africa)

Married off his oldest daughter...

....and his favourite, finally got to see a UNC Tar Heel basketball game in person.

Like, I said, Chuck's lived a full life in 50 years. Sometimes a little too full, there are stories I've heard about him that I don't even like to think about too hard, let alone blog about. Yikes.

Glad I got to spend the last 7 of Chuck's years with him.

I remember when I met him, he was just about to turn 43. I thought, "Wow, in 7 years, he'll be 50! And I'll be 30... That's so far away though...")

Well, 50's here now.

Happy Birthday, Chuckles!! You're 50!

50 years old!!!!!

Here's to the next 50 years!!

(And yes Chuck, I can hear you grumbling right now, "Not gonna make it another 50 years...*grumble*", and you can just stop it :) )

What I Did on My Winter Vacation

After being off for 12 days, getting back to work was super fun.

Most people were saying to me, "Oh, but aren't you glad to go back? I'd be bored out of my mind!"

Two words: Piss off!

I LOVED my vacation. I would've been happy to have another couple of weeks off. I pretty much got paid last week to play on the internet. I have a feeling I sort of looked like this:

I started a new blog on Tumblr in an attempt to stop irritating the fuck out of everyone with talk of Sherlock and Teh Cumberbatch. I've gained 80 followers in like...6 days. Took me almost 2 years to get 119 over here.

Apparently I've been writing for the wrong demographic. 17-year-old fangirls think I'm hilarious. So there.

(Oh, shut up...:P)

I've also done some fiction writing. I haven't done that in quite a few years, just sat down and wrote about something that didn't happen to me. It's nothing of any import, but I'm lovin' it. (I sound like a McDonald's commercial)

I had a rough few days there last week when my co-worker Hannah died, so all of these things were a nice escape. I still don't think I'm quite right about it all. I've still been sad a lot. For a lot of reasons.

So I am happy to be back at work where all my friends are. We spent the last couple of days laughing a lot. Well, I spent the last couple of days trying to make everyone laugh and succeeding. Yesterday morning I had all of my makeup cried off (from laughter) by 8am.

I think they missed me. It's nice to be missed.

It's also a good thing I'm back at work anyway, because I think I was starting to turn into a man. A filthy, lazy bachelor. If I could've grown a beard, I would've.

I kept forgetting to eat because I was on the internet so much (I really need to market 'The Internet Diet'...had my hands in so many tech cookie jars, that I didn't have any time to stick them into real ones).

Anyway, at one point I thought I had better tear myself away from the computer for some victuals or starve to death, and I found myself staring into sort of an empty fridge.

We did have a large bowl of cold roasted leftover potatoes and onions in there. I was too lazy to put them in the microwave, so I stood there in front of the fridge, eating cold potatoes out of this giant bowl with a fork. There may or may not have been cold gravy involved as well.

So yeah. Not much exercise got done last week. But with the forgetting to eat (and also the cultivation of a serious tea habit) I think everything got balanced out.

It's really died down at work, traffic-wise. Occasionally you can hear crickets if you listen closely.

Kind of nice not to be run off my feet the first two days back, but the days seem loooooooooong after what I was used to for the last few months. I shouldn't be surprised, it happens every year and I've been there for four years.

But, you know. I suppose it's like a having a baby. You go through a lot of pain, and then promptly forget how much pain you went through so that you can do it all over again next time.

I just compared bookselling to having babies. Wow.

Anyway, thought I'd give you an update on Kyna. You know, just in case you missed me. ;)

Sexual Innuendo Magnetic Poetry Monday

Warning: Serious Kyna Ahead

Went to a funeral last night for the first time in 10 years. Last one was my dad's in 2002.

A girl named Hannah that had been working with us at Barnes & Noble (usually I don't say the name of where I work, but since most every other bookstore is gone I might as well, right?) for the last few months died in a car wreck last Friday.

She was riding in the car with her boyrfriend late that night and they turned around at a really bad spot in the road (car accidents happen at this particular intersection all the time)  and the passenger side where she was located got plowed by another car. Her boyfriend lived and she died at the hospital she was taken to.

Extremely sad. The girl was only 21 years old.

Last Saturday, Chuck and I and a bunch of B&Ners went to a concert out in Atlantic Beach (I mentioned it a couple of posts ago).

While Chuckles and I were driving, there was a lull in conversation. I was silently looking out the window at the darkness, watching the beach houses go by. For no particular reason, I started wondering what would happen if one of us at B&N died. What if I died, actually.

Would the company send flowers? Would they close the store for the day? Would my co-workers show up for my funeral?

Yeah. Exactly. Why the fuck would I be thinking this? We were driving up to see a fun concert and hang out with friends. I guess it's just one of those uncontrollable things that brains do when they're bored.

Anyway, we get up to Atlantic Beach, and Chuckles and I stop to get a couple of subs to eat before the show.

I had to pee, and while I was in the bathroom my phone went off with a text alert in my bag hanging on the back of the stall door. The venue for the concert was in the same parking lot as the sub place, so I thought maybe one of my friends saw us drive in and wondered where the hell we were.

It was a text saying Hannah had been in a car accident the night before and had died.

Talk about a punch in the fucking gut.

I came out of the bathroom in total shock. I had just been thinking about the death thing on the way up there, and then I get this text?

Yeah, I know. Coincedence. Synchronicity. Or maybe I just felt something. I don't know. It all gets chalked up to 'freaky'.

I'm not going to pretend Hannah and I were best buds or anything. She hadn't worked at B&N for very long. If it had been one of the people I'd known there since the beginning, you'd be scraping me off the floor with a spatula right now. I'd be completely non-functional.

But Hannah was a sweet and lovely girl, and only 21...there one minute, and gone the next.

Do you know how relieved I am that I was nice to her the last time I saw her?

Last Wednesday (the night before my vacation started) she was my person for customer service and I was the manager for the evening.

Hannah had been having a very bad day and was not herself. Normally the girl was like sunshine personified...like a happy puppy (and I'm not saying this just because she's dead, she really was one of the most positive people I've ever met) but she was just so sad that night.

She asked me around 7:30 if I wouldn't mind her going home. Since it was pin-drop quiet (I normally would use the term 'dead', but in this case that's inappropriate) in the store that evening, I said sure and that I hoped she had a better night. And she died the day after that.

I'm so glad I didn't make her feel bad about asking me to leave or anything like that. Not that I'm a fucking doucheface all the time or anything, but at work sometimes we can all get under each other's skin and say things to each other that we don't mean when we irritate each other. I'm glad this wasn't one of those times, because I would've felt like an asshole forever.

B&N is my family. We all love each other like family. We get on each other's nerves like family. We fight with each other like family. We spend more time with each other than we do with our 'real' families.

Last night, pretty much everyone that didn't have to work (the store did indeed stay open through the funeral...I think maybe if she had worked there longer, there may have been other arrangements made) went to the service. B&Ners took up two whole rows of seating. I was proud of us.

There was an amazing amount of people there to pay their respects. We stood in line for about 30-40 minutes to file past the open casket to the seating area.

Poor Hannah did not look like herself. I know it's a cliché thing that people say when viewing a dead body, but she just didn't. The effects from the accident were very apparent.

I didn't think it would affect me that badly to see her. My heart started beating really fast. My knees and hands started getting all shaky and I started tearing up. She was just so fucking young.

And they were playing what I assume were some of her favourite songs while we were waiting for the rest of the people to file in. The girl loved classic rock, and apparently she had a huge vinyl record collection. We remarked to each other that a few of us would have to alter our iPod playlists. I can never listen to 'Break On Through' by The Doors or The Beatles' 'Yellow Submarine' again without thinking of Hannah lying there in that casket.

It's amazing how much you learn about a person at their funeral. Oh, I know it's all the good things about a person and never the bad, but that's ok. I think all of us deserve a time to have wonderful things said about us, that everyone can hear.

I don't think any of us at work knew just how talented she was. She loved music and art. They had quite a few pieces of it on display. She was very mischievous and fun-loving and what Southern people like to call 'wide open'.

Even though I wasn't close with her, I lost it twice. The first time was when they played 'Come Sail Away' by Styx in between eulogies. Jesus, I don't know why that one got me, but it did.

And the second time was while they were describing what kind of person she was. Independent, different, spirited, living life to the fullest, was always trying to make people happy...I felt like I could be sitting at my fucking funeral. That's what I imagine people might say about me. That took away the rest of my mascara...

We all had to hug it out in the parking lot afterwards.

I came home with no makeup and a headache. There's nothing like facing down your own mortality to give you a good one.

The day before the funeral, I also got a text saying that a good co-worker friend's sister had died on the way to the doctor that morning. Two death texts in one week. Jesus. I'm afraid to open my phone now.


Some good news though. The dude that was in the band that we went to see? Bennie? He became a father that very same day.

Two lives end and another one begins.

Yes, by all means, cue up 'The Circle of Life'...

I'm going to really need a new damn dress though. I wore the same dress to two weddings and a funeral in the past 6 months.

Two more weddings, and I'd have a Hugh Grant movie.

Anyway, I just had to get that all out. Writing really clears my head.

I know I'm not normally this serious, and I don't like bringing my readers down. But y'all are also my friends, so I figure you wouldn't mind a non-happy, nearly pictureless post once in awhile.