I think Im turning 28 I think Im turning 28 I really think so

Hi there Chickabiddies

I hope you had a festive Thanksgiving or whatever it is you may or may not have celebrated based on your country of origin. My Thanksgiving was delicious and plentiful with leftovers. I'm still eating them, even though I read somewhere once that you are only suppose to leave leftovers in the fridge for like 3 days before throwing them away, which I think is complete bullshit and probably a good example of why we are slowly becoming the Uncle Rico of the planet. I could explain that further but every attempt I made to elaborate resulted in a 5 line run on sentence that developed into too heavy of a metaphor for this early in a blog post.

So my 28th birthday is coming up. And normally my coolness would not allow me to post about something like my birthday since I don't like getting attention for things unless it has to do with you complimenting my ability to joke about dead babies or the jewish in a charming way, but I decided to put my ego aside for 7 seconds and admit that growing older has provided me with a plethora of ideas and realizations that I wouldn't have been able to vocalize if you asked me about them even as little as 5 years ago. Yes, part of getting older is agreeing to a trial separation with the high metabolism I have grown to love for the past 25 years, not being able to drink an entire Boones Farm without getting a terrible headache the next morning, and being called Mam by everyone but the dude at Brueggers that only calls me Miss because he for some reason thinks hes ready for this jelly.  *Side Note* He's not. 

But those realizations are boring and I'm sure Sex in The City has already monopolized whatever wisdom I could have gleaned from those things. Plus I don't want to get sued by Kim Cattrall's bio-engineered six pack. I'm afraid it will crush me in the night and I don't have the mental capacity to come back from something like that, I just don't.

What I have discovered is that my getting older has really just become varying degrees of not giving a fuck. That's pretty much it. And it's awesome. And I wish I could have gotten older sooner to get to this stage of my life. A lucky few people are just born this way, but I think most of us have to grow into it.  Not giving a fuck is a railroad track that runs next to the river of being comfortable with who you are, and the older you get, the easier it becomes to find that track next to that river. Levar Burton taught me that. He's a great man. With a rainbow and a dream. And a metal banana clip over his eyes that for some reason equates to him being blind. The future is a terrifying place.

But in case you are wondering on the specifics, here is a list of things that I no longer give a fuck about, aka, a list of things that no longer give me anxiety since Ive gotten older:

1) What I'm wearing 

2) What you think about what I'm wearing

3) Pretending to care about obscure music

4) Crapfest

5) Not knowing what you are talking about

6) Walking into an unknown place 

7) Dog hair

8) Ironing 

9) Washing my car

10) Road rage / car dance parties by myself while in traffic

11) Trying to impress strangers

12) Not knowing what happened on The Bachelor/Biggest Loser/American Idol 

13) Pretending like I want to go out drinking after 5 pm. I dont.

14) Church

15) Going out of the house without makeup

16) People knowing that I'm a conspiracy theorist about pretty much everything. I'm wearing a tinfoil bodysuit as I type this. 

17) Ordering breakfast with a side of fries at Perkins even if the waitress asks if I have tapeworms. 

After reading this list, you have probably come to the conclusion that I have transformed into a slovenly, angry hermit. You'd be mostly right. But in actuality getting older has allowed me to become what I really am, and what I always have been deep down inside. A slovenly, angry hermit. Its a blessing, finally being able to let go of who you thought you were for who you actually are. And one that should be embraced, no matter how long it takes you to get there. 

So do not cry my fellow late 20 somethings. Embrace your birthday each year with the knowledge that you may be getting older, but at least you got to taste Ectocooler and those Cheetohs that were shaped like the giant Xs and Os. Thats got to count for something in life. 

Enjoy your Weekday

~Maria

Leaves Leaves everywhere and not a fuck was given

Hey there everyone! I'm excited to announce that my husband finally replaced my laptop, and I sit here today typing on a brand new tiny Acer that was on sale at Target for a ridiculously low price. I got the last one in the state--according to the sales person--so I'm pretty much really important now. I'm going to be holding open houses every other weekend from 10am to noon for the next month so if you are interested in viewing the last electronic device from a 3 day sale, stop on by. Its a lot like if they would have held open houses for the Do Do or that rhino subspecies in Africa that was just determined to be extinct based on the fact that the researchers kept finding rhino poop that they genetically tested and it all came from the same already dead rhino.  Here, Ive captured it in imagery to make it even more real for you:

 

For some reason, the Midwest has been blessed so far this year in that we haven't had any earth shattering snowstorms yet. As nice as it has been to still be experiencing 55 degree days in the middle of November, this milder start to winter has forced me to acknowledge the fact that its not going to snow a substantial amount any time soon, so I better go outside and actually deal with the thousands of leaves that have congregated inside our fence. There will be no early snow to save me this year , and for that, I say fuck you global warming...or mother nature....or jesus...or whoever is in charge of weather, I'm not really sure, I haven't been to church in like 9 years.

To be clear, I don't actually mind the raking part of dealing with leaves. Its a pretty good work out and the autistic side of me really enjoys putting things into piles. Its the bagging that makes me want to die a thousand deaths. Because I suck at it. In fact, 2 years ago--last year we were blessed with early snow, so I didn't rake at all and in the spring we were treated to a backyard that was basically 7 giant patches of dead grass--I raked the leaves into like 23 piles, looked at my handiwork, thought "good job Maria" and then just turned around and washed my hands of the entire affair. I think the piles sat there for a few weeks before my husband was finally like "wtf, we cant just leave those there"

I have lived in this state my entire life. I have been forced to participate in raking duties since I was 10. By all estimations, I should know how to bag a piles of leaves, in fact I should be far superior in my bagging abilities than someone from a more mild climate. But I'm not. I'm terrible. I have tried various bagging methods, I have purchased different bag holders, nothing works. I like to think some of it has to do with the fact that I have tiny alligator arms, and maybe because I'm not able to reach as far or hold as many that the frustration mounts and I just get to a point of indifference quicker than other people.

Much like the noble T-rex here, my disability causes me immense frustration, and I end up getting annoyed somewhere between bag one and two. My neighbors all either have normal people sized arms or fancy machines that suck up the leaves for them. Unfortunately, the amazing leaf sucking machine that our backyard neighbor owns, doesn't fit through our gate, so I sit in my house, looking out the window in envy as he sweeps his yard clean of debris while remaining seated. But such is life. I awoke this morning with the same stumpy arms, and I know that tomorrow I must do this task that I hate more than most any other yard related duty.

So to all of you out there facing the same dreadful task this weekend, I wish you the best of luck. May your leaves be few, and your reach be long. A thousand blessings upon your bag choice, and may a strong breeze pick up during the night, so that you awake to a yard void of foliage, as it has all blown into someone else's yard, and is thus, now their problem.


Love you forever,

~Maria

Letter to my Mom, where ever she may be

Mom:

Tomorrow marks the 3rd year since you took the plunge into the great unknown of what happens after this. Its terrifying for me because in one way it feels like this is how life has always been, and on the other hand, my head is full of this multitude of memories involving you and things you have done, and what your voice sounded like, and how you always made me feel...though some of those memories have begun to fade. Even though my memory makes me question and wonder about the realities I may or may not have recorded correctly in among the synapses and neural connections sparking around in my head, I know that you existed because I exist. That's the most basic proof. The truth right down to the root of it. I'm here because you were here once. 

Even that is sometimes not enough to make me fully recall that you used to walk and talk and breathe and cry and laugh and cook and yell and sing and dance. Sometimes its just not enough. I guess I have come to realize how incredibly and stubbornly physical we as human are. We need to make things tangible in order to code them as real or not. What about God or Santa or Heaven or Aliens or Ghosts or Angels or Leprechauns? We are constantly striving to make the intangible, tangible. We make houses for Gods, light candles for Angels, leave stockings for Santa, try to capture Ghosts on film. We cant accept that things can exist purely as an idea, a concept, a thought, a memory. Its too difficult for us to master, we need something more. 

And so in my own way, in my own search for meaning, for proof, I turn to the physical evidence; pictures of you, notes or cards or books with your handwriting in them, your jewelry box--your watches still smell like your perfume--gifts you have given me, your Christmas dishes,  a shirt you used to wear, your sheets, gifts I gave you for holidays that have now come back to rest in silent spaces in my own home. Here is the proof. Its all here. And its still not enough.  

And I'm coming to accept that it never will be enough. Because in my staid mammalian brain, I haven't reached that level of enlightenment, the moment of Zen, the highest reaches of consciousness that would allow me to accept that you are really still out there, even if I don't have the capacity to fully sense your new form. People tell me that you will always be with me. You are always part of me, and in a sense that's true, since I literally came from you, you helped create me. But I'm also told that your presence is around me, and always will be. That you can sense me and that you know whats going on in the world of the living, that you may still even have a vested interest in the mostly mundane, and sometimes wonderful things that go on around here. That is the part that I don't agree with. I think its just something people say for various reasons. 

I don't know where you are now. I don't know if you are actually around me, when I feel you sometimes, or if its just my memory of you that for whatever reason sometimes takes a trip outside of my brain and goes wandering around this physical plane, and that memory of you is what I sense. What is a memory anyway? Why does my recollection of you have to be any less real than how you were when you were here? It all comes back to the physical again. You cant hug a memory. A memory wont cook for you when you stop by out of the blue, hungry and happy to be home. A memory wont answer the phone when you just need to talk. A memory cant give advice. Metaphorically, sure. Memories help us learn from the past, but when all you want is to hear that person's voice, a memory falls short. Its like an echo from across a great divide. You know it came from somewhere, you know something made it, but you cant find the source. 

Mom, I think of you every day. Even if I'm not consciously aware of it.. I see you in everything, notice things you would have liked or made fun of or been angered by. And the older I get, the more I am able to recognize the parts of me that clearly came from you. And the older I get, the more clarity I receive on why you taught me the things you did, why I was raised the way I was. I am exceptionally lucky. I got to say thank you before you left. Almost no one gets that chance. 

We hear a thousand times a thousand repetitions of the phrase Life is Short. It starts to lose its meaning. It becomes just another thing to say. We are easily distracted by the things that we have assigned meaning to, that mean absolutely nothing. Its hard to be fully present 100% of the time. I would say its almost impossible. But the anniversary of my mother's death is a yearly reminder for me to cut the shit out, and focus on what I think it means to really live. From death, springs an eternal reminder of life. Another reason to say thanks. Thanks mom. 

Love you, Miss you always.

~Holly Marie Stadnik~ June 12th 1957--October 22nd 2008

Confessions of a Fat Kid

Oh hey there everyone. I trust this day finds you in splendid health. I decided today was as good as day as any to write, mainly because I woke myself from a dream in which I had driven my car off a cloverleaf only to know without a shred of doubt that I had to get out of bed and go get some mother fucking donuts pronto. Like, there's no messing with this shit, I must get up and attempt to find a donut shop somewhere within a 50 mile radius of my home. If you think I wouldn't drive 50 miles for food, you sir, or madam are sorely mistaken. And thus brings us to the crux of the matter. I am a self proclaimed fat kid. Which is not the same thing as a foodie. Lets learn something today, shall we?

This is a fat kid: Notice the multiple options of shitty food present, the fact they are all in large quantities, and how there is no one else in the room but Shilo here. Its also important to note that Shilo has in fact eaten himself into a diabetic coma. But don't worry after a few hours of dreamless sleep, he will wake up feeling refreshed and ready to start eating again.

This is what constitutes a fat kid, among other things. Fat kids can be any age,  race, socioeconomic status or gender. And they don't even have to be physically fat. They just have to love the treats more than most other things on earth, and maintain a blatant disregard for being able to distinguish good food from bad food.


Steve and Cheryl here, on the other hand, are foodies:

Foodies are what some fat kids morph  into as they age. Its important to remember that not all fat kids become foodies, but all foodies were once fat kids. Foodies are generally middle-upper class, and enjoy spending their free time browsing various restaurants that other high brow coworkers or neighbors recommend. Foodies also posses the all consuming treats-lust that fat kids do, but because it is veiled in a cloak of snobbery, it is much more socially acceptable way to cram large amounts of calories down your gullet in one sitting. Foodies have also developed the illusive "ability to share" mechanism that most fat kids are unable to access, as seen in the photo above. Foodies can discern good food from bad food, and because of this, will refuse to eat in certain dining establishments, mainly ones that poor people like going to. Here are some places that true Foodies would never go to:

Whitecastle. Applebees. McDonalds. Taco Bell. Perkins. IHop. Sonic. TGIFridays.


Now that we got that all cleared up, you may be wondering what category you fall into. Ive come up with a list to help you discern what side of the line you fall on. As I am a fat kid, I can only give you the definitive facts that make me what I am, and thus am unable to tell you more about Foodies other than what Ive already shared.

So: HOW TO TELL IF YOU ARE A FAT KID


1) You think about what you are going to eat next, while you are already eating
 I do this. And its embarrassing. Most of the shit fat kids do is embarrassing, but shame doesn't  seem to be a big enough deterrent to sating the food-lust.  I will literally be eating a meal, and thinking about how I want to eat Annie's Mac and Cheese or Chipotle steak tacos, or something from Big Bowl at some point later in the day. I think this mostly occurs when I'm eating something not super tasty. Much like fantasizing about someone besides your current life partner while having sex, I fantasize about eating something more appealing while eating the horrible excuse for a burrito from my work cafeteria.

2) You get food anxiety when at a place where a set amount of food must be shared between a large amount of people
I used to work at an office where we would get free lunch catered in on a fairly regular basis. And I'm not talking free generic subs from grubway. I'm talking the good shit: Chipotle, Panera, some fancy Mexican restaurant that I cant remember the name of, but that had killer cheese enchiladas . And because I would get so nervous that by the time I was allowed to get food at 12:30, all of the good shit would be gone, I used to sneak out and go get a giant plate of food, which would then sit on my desk until break time, getting cold. For fat kids, a large amount of  delicious cold food is better than a normal amount of warm, mediocre food.

3) You have specific food rituals you adhere to, and if one of these rituals are disrupted, you freak the fuck out.
For example, I do not eat fast food or carry out food in the car unless I'm on a road trip. Why? Because if I start causally munching on fries one by one while driving back to my destination, by the time I get there, there will only be like half the fries left, which is unacceptable and just makes me disappointed. I need to have a large amount of food when I finally sit down to eat, as well as a great variety. If I'm forced to eat my spicy chicken fingers or quesadilla burger  by itself, I get real ornery and tend to lash out at others around me.

4) Which brings us to our next point: If your food is messed up, you become full of rage
My husband can vouch for this. I get ragefully angry if something I was really excited to eat is messed up in some way. This doesn't mean I freak out at whoever messed up the food. It just means whoever is around me gets to listen to me bitch about it for the next 5 minutes. A constant stream of expletives, insults and spit issues forth from my mouth until I have tired myself out. Its like going through the five stages of grief only there's just two, and they're called murderous rage and begrudging acceptance.

5) Eating something delicious or that you have been craving makes you so happy you could cry
God this is so embarrassing. I have been brought close to tears before from delicious food. I'm not even kidding. You cry when you see your child correctly recite a Shel Silverstein poem at the school talent show. I cry when I eat the Benihana Triple after not having it for a few months. Hater why you hate?

By now you have probably already made a decision on whether or not you are a fat kid, a foodie, or you are one of those elusive people that doesn't use food as an emotional backboard in the game of life. Either way, make sure not to judge whatever category you don't fall into. Some of us just really really love the treats--shout out Madrad--and that's ok. Don't be ashamed for liking food that tastes good, even if its not the best for you. Just make sure you take breaks from eating the deliciousness to cram in an apple or some green beans or chug down some V8 juice every once in a while.

Have a splendid weekend.

Love Forever,

Fatty Mcfatterton....aka Maria

My soul is a raver

Oh hey there long lost friends! I trust this morning finds you well. In case you care even a little bit, my good for nothing husband has yet to fix my laptop, hence my absence. But I missed doing this and missed the emailed death threats piling up in my inbox every morning, so here we are!

Alright so if you weren't already aware of this, I am kind of mildly obsessed with dancing. As I have aged, I have found that my ambition for actually getting off the couch and attempting to assemble an outfit that doesn't involve sweatpants and a sports bra on a Friday night in an effort to go out to some kind of dancing facility wanes with each passing year. Also, to be honest, its pretty difficult to find a place to go out dancing that:
1) Is big enough so that you don't feel like you are having unauthorized sexual contact with the 732 other people packed into a room that's meant to hold 50.
2) Plays good music
3) Plays good music
4) Is full of people who are also just there to dance, and not there to have unauthorized sexual contact with parts of your body
5) Plays good music

Because of these barriers to me actually enjoying myself, and because I am not cool enough to know what radio station to listen to to find the location of the secret rave in the abandon warehouse, barn, or some one's parent's basement, I have resorted to dancing in my living room. With the curtains generally closed. With my husband and my dog, which sometimes turns into this:

And I do have a good time. **Side Note** Find a life partner that you can dance like a complete asshole in front of without feeling like a complete asshole. But even though I have fun, I still miss the drama and the intensity of actually going to a location other than my house to dance. Tying Christmas lights on the dog just doesn't give me the same feeling that standing next to this dude, under a leaking water pipe, in an abandon mental asylum does.


In the last few years, there have been a handful of pop songs released that make me freak the fuck out when I hear them. I literally can not sit still if one of these songs begins to play, be it in my car, walking down the street, or sitting in my cube at work, I must dance. Its like some subconscious compulsion, and no matter how hard I try to fight it, I never win. Much like that first puff of methsmoke after a week of sobriety, I lose my shit. After much deliberation, I think I have come to a conclusion on why these particular songs affect me the way they do. They all have that noise in them. You know the one. That high pitched electronic thing that crescendos--I was in choir in high school, impressive---right before the beat comes in. THAT is what I am allergic to. That is what takes over and makes my heartbeat like I just did 4 eightballs off the crack of some stripper's ass. That is what makes me go into super-crazy-freak-out mode. That noise is the method behind my madness. To give you some examples, here are my current top 3:

1) YES. http://m.youtube.com/#/watch?desktop_uri=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DJwQZQygg3Lk&v=JwQZQygg3Lk&gl=US

2) Double YES http://m.youtube.com/#/watch?desktop_uri=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Dwyx6JDQCslE&v=wyx6JDQCslE&gl=US

3) God Bless this one. This is the one I use the most at home if I feel like really getting crazy: http://m.youtube.com/#/watch?desktop_uri=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D-Fe4dk0Jtcw&v=-Fe4dk0Jtcw&gl=US


Now, I'm aware that its not cool to like these kind of songs. Most cool people think this shouldn't even be considered music, and that only lame white kids like this shit. My response: That would be correct. I figured I would close by showing you a video of me and some of my friends dancing under a via duct in the middle of the day. Enjoy. And remember to always rave safe. Only take pills from people you know from experience are giving you good shit and always have a bottle of water nearby so you don't dehydrate and have an aneurysm.

http://www.youtube.com/create_account?action_creation_redirect=true&next=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DO_IGuUsqJwQ%26feature%3Dplayer_embedded%26noredirect%3D1

Happy Weekend

~Maria

Adele, you frighten me

Oh hey there everyone!! So Ive been gone for a few months. I could tell you that its because I got a book deal, and Ive been spending all my free time working towards earning the multi million dollar check I received but I think we all know that's a load of crap. Actually, the real reason Ive been absent is that my loving husband broke my laptop after attempting to show me a pic of a naked dude from some movie with the hopes that we could debate whether or not the dude's penis was real or CGI. After I yelled at him "don't fucking click that link, its going to be a virus" about 7 times, he did it anyway and my computer is now being controlled by some 12 year old in Guam--credit where credit is due, my good friend Ashley came up with that line.

So yes. I decided today that its time to get back in the saddle, even if that means trying to write and draw pics on my husbands computer which sits atop a giant fucking desk where my feet don't reach the ground, and I continually struggle to find a comfortable position for the time it takes to do one of these. So you dirtbags better appreciate this. I was kind of uncomfortable for a few hours today on my day off from work while I sat and wrote nonsense and drew childlike pictures on one of our households 2 computers.

Ok so I'm sure you have heard of the singer Adele. If you haven't, this is what she looks like:

 She blew up in the United Stated after releasing her second CD, 21, in January of 2011. She had a previous CD, called 19---that she released when she was 19, creative!--that didn't do as well on the American charts, and whose only real success was some horrid song about chasing pavements, which I never understood and always wondered "who the hell sings this piece of crap?" whenever I heard it come on the radio.

21 was a different story. There are 10 songs on this album, and musically speaking, they all sound pretty good. Adele is undeniably talented, and the range and depth of her voice is kind of amazing. I decided I liked this enough to want to own it and rushed out to *buy* this CD. After *getting it home*, I listened to it nonstop for about a week. Even my husband liked Rolling in the Deep---before it was destroyed by being played every 34 seconds on every station know to man. And I admit that I was excited to see a chubby female solo artist making a name for herself---"good for her, what a great role model for young women everywhere! excuse me while I go throw up the 20 piece McNugget I had for lunch."

Like I said, I really did enjoy 21. Until the day I realized that this entire CD perpetuates and encourages people to stalk the fuck out of their exs. Now before you get all defensive, I get that Adele is young. She obviously got dumped by her first love, and this CD is her way of expressing all the feelings she feels inside about that relationship and the subsequent end to that relationship. Fine, great, whatever. But you can make a great CD about being dumped and not sound pathetic or insane in an uncool way: i.e. Jagged Little Pill. Alanis was able to take her pain and transform it into this giant beast of anger and rage, and when you listened to it, you knew that Alanis was hurt, but that she was not about to take it lying down, she was ready to kick some mother fucking ass. The only time you got a hint at the actual sadness Alanis was feeling was the hidden track that everyone thought they were super cool and the first ones to know about it.

The reason I get upset with Adele, after actually listening to the lyrics on this CD, is that I think about how fucking pissed off I would be if Adele were my husbands ex and I had to deal with this shit. I mean, really, look at some of these. I'm only putting up three examples since I'm lazy, but this sentiment can be found in almost every song but Rolling in the Deep:

"Don't you remember, Don't you remember the reasons you loved me before?

Baby please remember me once more"~Don't you remember

I'll be waiting for you when you're ready to love me again

I put my hands up, I'll do everything different 

I'll be better for you

I'll be waiting for you when you're ready to love me again

I put my hands up, I'll be somebody different I'll be better for you"~ I'll be Waiting

AND THE KICKER, all the lyrics to Someone like You. Holy F:

http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/adele/someonelikeyou.html

I mean, what in the hell was she thinking? She basically says, I know you're married and happy, but fuck that, I'm going to stop by randomly and unannounced because "I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it" ......is this not the exact definition of stalking? I'm fairly certain it is. And even though every song isn't this blatantly insane, the entire album encourages  rampant sentimentality, that its ok to live in the past, that its perfectly acceptable to waste your entire life waiting for someone to love you again, and that changing everything about yourself so that someone will love you is alright.What?? My feelings on that:

So as much as I acknowledge the talent of Adele, if I were her ex boyfriend's current wife, Id probably take out a restraining order....and make sure our address and phone number were unlisted....and invest in a solid security system. And I get that when you are alone after a breakup that you didn't initiate, its hard not to remember all and only the good things about your ex and the time you spent together. But there has to be a point when enough is enough and you are able to step back and move on with your life. So Adele, do the women of the world a favor and make sure your next album is about how rich you are now and how awesome your life is since this loser dumped you. Otherwise he wins. And that's really what life is all about isn't it? Making sure you life kicks more ass than your exs'. 

Thanks for stopping by. Have a good Monday.

~Maria

Tiniest Toad in the World

So last night the husband and I were out for a walk with our giant dog because if we don't exercise him, he is an asshole and breathes in our faces when we lie on the couch and squeaks his squeaker toy really loud during movies and crap. So we let him run around these woods by our house and now that the foliage is really tall he loves hopping through it like a gazelle whilst grabbing large chucks of grass in his mouth and eating it which is really annoying since this either makes him puke or shit weird.

ANYWAYS

On the way back home, I spotted something that looked like a cricket hopping on the side of the road. I didn't have my contacts in, and am still waiting for my new glasses---hurry the F up Spectacle Shoppe, your added e is already annoying enough without lying to me about my glasses being ready in a day--so I bent down to see what a cricket was doing in the road since they usually prefer to hide in places like my grandmas basement or in a dusty part of your garage.

And to my great joy and amazement, I discovered that this creature hopping on the side of the road, was not in fact an insect, but the worlds tiniest baby toad. Now, I used to be lucky enough to have a cabin to go to as a child, so I can safely say I have a pretty extensive knowledge on things like baby toads and baby turtles and whathaveyou since I used to collect them by the bucketfuls back in the 80s. And I have never seen a toad this small. Ever. He was so small, I couldn't pick him up with my fingers for fear of squashing his delicate little insides. Because my husband is an engineer, he figured out that allowing the toad to hop onto a small leaf, and then picking up said leaf would be the safest way for us to get a closer look at this beast, as I sat there struggling with the frustration of needing to hold this thing, and not being able to pick it up without smooshing it to death. **Side Note**There is a reason some people are born with logical thinking brains, and that reason is to help the emotional thinking beings like me figure out ways to pick up a baby toad without killing it. Because if I wasn't able to hold this thing, I would have freaked the F out.

After all of these words, I'm sure you are hoping for a picture. And thanks to the magic of technology, I do have a decent photo to show you. The appendage you see in the picture is the tip of my thumb. I just measured my thumbnail, and it is 3 centimeters long to give you some perspective on the size of this guy.

So yes. There you have it. The Worlds Tiniest Toad. We only held him long enough to take this picture, and then let him go back on his merry way. I realize there is a good chance that this small of a creature might not survive to adulthood, and later on in the evening we even discussed how much money it would have taken for one of us to eat him---Me--couldn't do. For any amount of money. You can not kill something that cute. Its like worse than kicking a puppy. Husband--10 bucks---but I thought it was cool to see something that small that actually has a tiny brain and heart and skeleton and nervous system and junk. I am kind of a science dork at heart along with liking fantasy novels. Just in case you forget, I am the coolest.

So yes. Have a lovely weekend and go outside sometime in the next few days and appreciate nature for once you assholes. 

~Maria

Applebee's Birthday Extravaganza 2011

Hey there and good morning to you. If you came back after last week, thank you, you get a gold star. Don't worry, I'm back to hiding from the worlds problems and drowning my sorrows in family sized fries from Culver's, so there will be no ranting today.

Alright so last night as I was driving home from work I heard a radio DJ announce that his station was giving away meet and greet passes to attend Nicole Scherzinger's birthday party in Las Vegas. If you don't know who Nicole Scherzinger is, she is the former lead singer of the Pussy Cat Dolls, and  happens to be one of the only women I am in love with mainly because shes one of the sexiest people on the planet. See photo below.

So sexy in fact, that the PCDs broke up since the group could have easily been renamed "Nicole Scherzinger and some other people"  and no one would have noticed or cared as long as Nicole was still front and center in every video being her glorious self. **Side Note**- holy fuck, how the hell did that red head get in....don't worry she was replaced within a year by a  cuter red head with more palatable facial features.

So anyways, like I said, this radio station is giving away passes to go hang out at Nicole's birthday party in Las Vegas. And after hearing this, all I could think of is how incredibly awkward and fucked up that prize is for all people involved. I mean, here Nicole is, a simple celebrity trying to throw herself what I'm assuming is an extremely lavish and wasteful birthday shindig in Sin City for all 500 of her closest friends, and now she has to worry about these 2 assholes from Minnesota showing up and wanting to talk to her and take pictures with her and pretty much just loser up her birthday party in general. And, even though I am in love with her, there is no way in hell I would ever want to show up to her birthday party. Birthday parties are for actual friends and relatives. Not creepy creepers that are hyperventilating at the thought of being in the same room with you for 45 minutes. I would feel like such a douche at this thing if it were me. I mean, what do I really have to talk about with people who spend more money on their hair extensions than I will make in 10 years, you know? Celebrities have been so far removed from what real people do and how real people live on a daily basis, that any attempt at conversation would probably end in tragedy. 

Because this radio prize is such an awkward mixing of social classes, I thought it would be really awesome if instead of being flown to Vegas to creep on celebrities that could give two shits about them, these prize winners were driven to my own birthday party celebration at Applebees in White Bear Lake. Below is a transcript of how I imagine the interaction would go: 

Prize Winners: (getting out of limo) "Hey, what the heck, this isn't the airport! Why are we stopping at this Applebees?? Our flight leaves in 25 minutes!!"

Limo Driver: "I just do's what I'm tolds. They says to bring you twos here, so I dids."

Prize Winners: "Maybe they want us to get something to eat for the plane ride or something" "Yeah maybe"

Me: (walking out into the parking lot): "Hello my good friends, The Prize Winners!!! Welcome to Maria's Applebees Birthday Extravaganza 2011!!!! Are you guys ready to get your grub on?! I hope so!! Hey you're a little dressed up for the occasion, but what the hell right? Come on in!"

Prize Winners: "Ummm, what are you talking about?"

Me: "Oh they didn't tell you, did they...those bastards, haha, so basically, what happened is, Nicole Scherzinger decided that she didn't want people she didn't know at her birthday party, so instead of partying with celebrities in Vegas, you'll be having dinner at Applebees with me. I can see you're pretty pumped and you should be. I  just ordered the restaurant's entire supply of green beans fries. Hoooollllllla!!"

Prize Winners: (girl starting to cry) " NO! This is NOT FAIR!! I mean, I spent $500 on this dress, Chad went out and rented a tux, we were at the salon for 4 hours today making sure our pores weren't too big, this is crap!!! I'm going to scream!!!

Me: "Look, I don't what to tell you. She changed her mind. Shes rich and famous and beautiful, so she can pretty much get away with that kind of crap. But, on the bright side, you are about to enjoy a kick ass meal from Applebees all at no cost to you or ChadBro, so really, you should be grateful Nicole changed her mind."

Prize Winners: (Chad begins to get angry, girl is sobbing hysterically) "Look bitch. I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but me and my lady were told we wont tickets to Vegas, not tickets to come hang out with some fat ass loser at an Applebees. This is bullshit. I'm calling the radio station. Don't worry babe, Ill get this shit worked out"

Me: " Good luck with that Chad. In the meantime, 'hey you Girl, why don't you come sit down at my booth and relax a little. The first bushel of green bean fries should be ready by now and you look a little peeky'."

Prize Winners:  (Chad, in background, waiting on hold to talk to radio station employee, shouting angrily at the sky, Girl crying harder, now laying on sidewalk) " NOOOOOOO!!! Why me, life is so unfair!!! OMG I cant even believe this, I told like 700 people that I was going to meet Nicole and take pics with her, and I was going to use it as my new FB profile pic and everyone would be so jeal and she was going to hear me sing and ask me to be in a 2 person female pop duo and we were going to travel all over and I would be famous and rich and then Chad would propose to me and we would get married and have 2 perfect blond children and I would stay at home and wash his socks while he watched football with his friends in our living room!! Its all ruined!!! All Gone forever, I hate my life whhhhhhy meeeeeee!!!!!"
Me: " Thats seriously what you thought was going to happen as a result of winning these tickets?"
Prize Winners: "Well duh, Yeah of course! Why do you think people want to win tickets like these so bad you idiot?"
Me: "Right. How silly of me. Well, I'm going to head back in to get started on those green bean fries before my friends finish off the first batch without me. You and Chad are welcome to stop in if you feel so inclined. And you should know, if you finish your entire meal, you get a free strawberry cheesecake dessert shooter."
PrizeWinners: (Chad threatening to kick the radio station employee's ass, Girl passed out from crying too hard)

In conclusion: forced hang-age with celebrities or the very rich that you aren't actually friends with will not result in you yourself becoming rich or famous or being invited back to their summer beach home on Fire Island. It will however result in you feeling bad about yourself in an innumerable amount of ways, and wishing that your life was different. My advice to you would be to avoid these interactions at all cost, and to be excited that you are lucky enough to eat at fine dining establishments like Applebees whenever you want.

Later Gators

~Maria

Whats Really Going on in Florida

As of late, I have been reading a lot of stuff on FB, and on blogs, and forums, and online news sources and whathaveyou about the proposed legislation in Florida where Welfare recipients would have to submit to a mandatory drug test before being approved for any kind of  monetary government assistance. It should be noted that this legislation is specifically targeting TANF-which stands for Temporary Assistance for Needy Families, Families being the operative word here, meaning that anyone applying for any version of this program has children that live with them. 

This legislation is supposedly going into affect in Florida starting July 1st of this year. All applicants are required to pay for the mandatory testing out of pocket, and if they pass, would be refunded their money, and allowed to begin receiving benefits. If they do not pass, much like the dreaded renter's damage deposit, they lose out on their "I'm applying for welfare" deposit, and are banned from applying again for a year; 6 months if they can prove that they have successfully completed a drug treatment program, which they would have had to fund themselves. Two failed drug tests in a row, and you're blacklisted for 3 years.

If a person fails a test, there is the option of delegating another adult to receive the benefits to ensure that the failed test bearer's children will be accounted for and able to receive help. Of course, the delegated adult must also be able to pass a drug test, or the children of these failed drug test applicants are pretty much shit out of luck. **Side Note**If one looks closely at the footnote of this proposed Bill, you can see the following sentence in italicized writing "Sucks to be you Poor Kids! Next time try being born into a family that doesn't suck at life you dumbshits!! Tea Party 4 Lyfe!"

Now, reading the general population's thoughts on this bill over the last few days has been somewhat of a struggle for me. If you keep up with this blog on a regular basis, you're aware of my short temper, foul mouth, and inability to deal with stupidity for more than 5 seconds at a time. But over the last 48 hours, I have reached an entirely new level of rage, one that burns so white hot, its almost undetectable.  I'm going to try very hard to keep my cool, because yelling at you and calling you a stupid asshole does nothing to help you understand where I'm coming from or to really hear the facts that are being presented to you.

So. Lets begin at the beginning. Which for me, stems from who this legislation is being proposed by. Enter one, Rick Scott. To prove to you that I'm not using a completely biased news source, I'm submitting the link to Wikipedia's entry about this man: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rick_Scott . Dear Wikipedia: I don't know how your copyrighting rules work, but anything I take directly from your site, any complete, full sentences, I give you credit for. Please don't sue me.

 Rick Scott started out as a lawyer in Dallas, working for Johnson & Swanson during the late 80s, early 90s. At some point in his career, Scott became interested in hospitals, and took it upon himself to head a new business endeavor entitled,  Columbia Hospital Corporation, along with 2 other businessmen. Columbia Hospital Corporation, founded in 1988, experienced such rapid development over such a short time frame, that it was recognized by Business Week Magazine as one of the 50 Best Performing Companies of the S&P in 1997. To really understand the full scope of CHC's success, a timeline is necessary.

*1989--First year of business, CHC acquires 4 hospitals in El Paso, totaling over 833 beds
*1992--CHC merges with Basic American Medical, adding 8 more hospitals to their total
*1993--CHC buys out Galen Health Care, 90 more hospitals acquired.
*1994--CHC finally buys out Hospital Corporation of America, 100 more hospitals gained
*1995--CHC purchases Healthtrust, 80 more hospitals acquired
*1997--Over 350 hospitals, 130 surgery centers, and 550 home health care locations owned by CHC. CHC is bringing in a revenue of over 23 billion dollars, and is the 7th largest employer in the United States, and the 12th largest employer in the world. You read that correctly. The world.  Rick Scott is Chairman, and CEO of all of this.

*March 19th, 1997--FBI special agents raid dozens of CHC hospitals in an attempt to recover evidence of the millions of dollars in Medicare fraud that several whistle blowers, and former CHC employees claimed to have been  privy to over many years.

*2000 and 2002--CHC pleads guilty to 14 felonies and agrees to a $600 million dollar fine--the largest fraud settlement in US history. Rick Scott resigns as Chairman and CEO, but is awarded a 9.88 million dollar settlement, 10 million shares of CHC stock, and does no jail time.

Scott goes on to become a venture capitalist, forming Richard L Scott Investments, which has stakes in health care, manufacturing and technology companies. He co-founds Solantic in 2001, a Jacksonville based urgent care center that provides urgent care services, immunizations, physicals, drug screening, and care for injured workers. As of March 2009, Solantic had 24 centers, all located in Florida. Solantic has been the target of numerous employment discrimination suits, including one that settled with 7 plaintiffs for an undisclosed sum on May 23, 2007. These suits allegedly stem from a Scott-directed policy to not hire elderly or overweight applicants, preferring 'mainstream' candidates.

Scott assumes office as the 45th Governor of Florida on January 4th, 2011, after reportedly spending $78 million dollars of his own money to fund his campaign. His opponent, Alex Sink, reportedly spent $28 million.

So...


Why did I just tell you all of this? Because you should want to know it. The man proposing mandatory drug testing for all welfare applicants in the state of Florida is banking on the fact that you are an idiot. He is hoping that you will be more interested in the upcoming results of the Bachelorette than the moral integrity of the people running your country. He is laughing that he was in charge of the company that boasts the largest fraud settlement in US history, and that he did absolutely no jail time for it. He giggles thinking about how he was paid millions of dollars for washing his hands of the whole thing and knowing that America will let his greed and indiscretions fall off their radar, and in fact, will forget to the point that they decide he is the right person to run the state of Florida.

And he privately owns--now recently transferred into his wife's name--24 Urgent Care Centers in Florida, all of which offer drug testing as one of their services. This is the kind of person trying to put into place legislation that has previously been determined unconstitutional.


So now you know. And I can hear 3/4 of you screaming at me "So what!!! We don't give a flying fuck what Rick Scott has done in the past!!! We like what hes saying, because I'll be damned if my tax dollars go towards funding someones drug habit, when I bust my ass every day to pay my car loan, and rent, and buy toilet paper and Cheetos, and Reebok's". And I get what you are saying. I actually do. I understand why you are frustrated thinking that you work hard for your money, and that you think it is unfair that there are other people in the world that can meet their basic needs without having to work. My response to that sentiment:

1) : Lots of things in life aren't fair. Stop being a little bitch about it.**See comments section for further explanation of this, if it made your hackles rise**
2): There is no such thing as self made; everyone who has become financially successful did it with some form of help, no matter what they say. Being born into the right family, having at least one teacher that helped you with college applications or believed in you, living in a home that values work and working and passes those values on to you, these are all things we take for granted. Lots of people don't even experience one of those things.
3): You have no idea how vastly different your life could have been had you not had some form of help along the way. If you were born into a different family. I wish there was a way I could show you what might have been. If thinking you are better than someone applying for welfare makes you feel good about yourself, I alternate between feeling pity towards you, and wanting to smash your face in with a baseball bat.
4): If I'm interpreting you correctly, what you are really saying is that you are upset because 'using drugs' is not a necessary or legal act and as such, poor people should not be allowed to partake in something "unnecessary or illegal" on the tax payers dime. Lets deal with the "unnecessary" part first. What about welfare recipients abusing nicotine, alcohol, or prescription drugs? How does that make you feel? All 3 perfectly legal, but not necessary for survival. Should we demand that they be tested for these substances as well? It would stand to reason, with your logic, that yes, we should. What about making sure they aren't eating frozen pizza and hot dogs and blue mountain dew and oreos every night? Certainly these foods are not necessary for survival. We should probably add those to the pee test list as well. It's a very slippery slope, and passing legislation like this only paves the way for more invasive measures and larger forms of Big Government. Now for the "illegal" activity part. Can you say Government Bailout? Was that not the biggest example of taxpayer money going to support illegal activity ever??? What about every shady senator or Governor or Representative whose salary is funded by your taxes? Why are we ok with funding their acts of fraud and theft on the grandest scale, but yet we demand that Joe Everybody piss in a cup before signing up for an EBT card because the $8.50 hes making working 40 hours a week at McDonald's isn't cutting it to support his wife and two kids?  

The enemy is not the poor. You are being programmed to look below you on the social ladder instead of above you.  All I'm asking is that you take 5 minutes to really think about the big picture. Put this in perspective. I'm leaving you with the words of a good friend:

No drug, not even alcohol, causes the fundamental ills of society. If we are looking for the source of our troubles, we shouldn't test people for drugs, we should test them for stupidity, ignorance, greed and love of power.

If you made it to the end, thanks for taking the time to read this.

~Maria

Im Working Today

Alright so, I started working on Fridays a month or so ago, and I figured its time to admit to you that working a 10 hour day on a day where I would normally be spending 5 hours to create a new masterpiece for you  is starting to stretch me a little thin. So some weeks you will have a wonderfully long post full of lots of hand drawn pictures and well transitioned paragraphs, and limited spelling errors, and other weeks, like this one, you will get a few paragraphs and maybe some picture I found on google images since I was late for work and I'm scheduled to see 8 people today, and since this blog isn't helping me to pay my Qwest bill, I must defer to actually doing work while at work. See? I don't even like cats, and look at what I'm forced to resort to in the name of trying to hurry the fuck up:

 So because I am so terribly pressed for time, I'm going to list some actual real life things that have happened to me in the last 48 hours. Maybe this will help you to understand why this blog exists:

1) A gay man told me I'm built like a brick shit house.

2)  I watched an old lady in the grocery store go through a bag of cherries, pick out the ones she didn't like, and then hand them to the cashier while yelling angrily: "Yes, well I don't think I'll be taking these 5 home with me. I don't think I would enjoy eating something like that at all." and then she proceeded to take 10 minutes writing out a check for $7. ** Please see my posting on My Struggles With Ageism, aka why it was difficult for me not to slap the shit out of this woman after witnessing this spectacle**

3)  I watched my dog eat like 15 of those big, hard beetles that come out in summer after dark, that fly into your face and get caught in your hair. I tried to stop him, but the light on the deck was on, and because of this there were like 700 of them out there flying around stupidly and slamming into the sliding door, and bouncing off my dog's head and he just kept catching them in midair, and I was too scared to open the door since I knew that 50 of them would get in the house and crawl into my shirt, so I just stood watching him eat bugs to his hearts content safely behind the glass.

4) I ate a chipotle burrito without any rice. Because they forgot to put it in there. I wouldn't recommend it.

5)  A blue jay followed me for a block while I was on a walk. It kept hopping from tree to tree staring at me. I don't know what this means. Either I'm magic, or hes magic. I'm betting its me.

6)  I watched a dude with goggles on and spandex shorts do stretches in the middle of a bridge by my house. Do you need goggles for running now? I'm not hip, I don't know these things.

7)  I went to target and purchased  two things: a Stouffer's large Mac and Cheese and a can of pumpkin filling.

8) I ate an entire box of those ice cream cones with the chocolate coating in the inside. And they have that end that's filled with solid chocolate, and when you get down to it, you hope you still have a little bit of ice cream left so that you can pretend you are a giant holding a person sized ice cream cone, or alternatively, you will be able to find a squirrel or other small mammal and make them hold it and eat it the tiny cone like a person would for your amusement.

9) I started to reread the last Harry Potter book again because the final movie is coming out soon, and I want to be able to judge how accurate the movie is in comparison, and because that book is like 900 pages long, I have difficulty remembering all the details, so I started high lighting in it to ensure I remember which scenes to get pissed off about after they fuck them up, or change them.

10) I took a picture of myself and my dog with the phone on my camera, and ended up capturing what looks like some type of ghost or portal on the screen instead and then I deleted it because it was scaring me too much, and I couldn't stop looking at it. 

11) I attempted to creep by the blind man that fills our vending machines because I didn't want to bother him while he was working, so I tried to be extra quiet, but that sneaky bastard heard me and then I felt like an asshole because I didn't want him to think I was avoiding talking to him, I just didn't want get in his way, but how do you explain that to someone without sounding schizophrenic? Answer: you cant, so I just mumbled a awkward hello and took my breakfast sandwich back to my desk in shame.

12) I have checked the radar on my phone over 50 times. Its tornado season, you can never be too careful.

13) I debated whether or not I could come into work today wearing VS sweatpants with the reasoning being 'my washing machine broke'. I determined I would probably not be able to get away with this.

14) I opened a packet of Gushers that was entirely all red ones.
15) I woke up at 4:50am wondering why in the fuck birds sing every morning so god damn early during the summer, and I lay there thinking about what would happen if they didn't sing, and I decided the sun probably wouldn't come up or they would all explode, so given the alternative, I guess I will just have to deal with being awoken before my alarm and having to shut my window every morning for the next 90 days.

The End:

Bicycle, Bicycle, Bicycle, I want to ride my Bicycle I want to ride my Bike

Guten Tag, and Good Morning to you, on this Friday of Memorial Weekend. I will assume you are all busy packing your coolers full of Bud Light and Zima and Gatorade and trying not to forget your sunscreen or fishing pole or Nerf football or swimsuit as you get ready to embark on what is sure to be a glorious Memorial Weekend get away. I'd like to stop here, and take a moment to let you know that as you get ready for your superfunhappytimesexypartydrinkfest this weekend, I sit typing during my lunch hour, trying to enjoy the $6 chicken sandwich I just bought at a deli across the street. As if that weren't depressing enough, a coworker about 4 cubicles away keeps making this awful hacking sound, in an attempt, I assume, to remove the giant ball of phlegm that must be coating his throat.  

Because of this, I can no longer bring myself to eat another delicious french fry, which is a shame really, as the one covered in hot sauce that was on course for my mouth, just had to be set back down since I was this close to vomiting all over my keyboard. I would like my $7.99 back sir. 

Alright so me and my husband looked into the mirror a few weeks ago and were both like, shit. We are getting fat.

**Side Note**For the love of Christie Brinkley, do not correct me. I get that there are people larger than me out there, and that when anyone smaller talks about being fat, an alarm goes off in their head, and they freak the fuck out and get all angry and sad and crap. I understand where that reaction comes from. I really do. But everyone has an average, comfortable body weight, and once that weight has been breached, it should be socially acceptable to announce to the world "I'm on my way to getting fat". So, here goes:

Because of this recent breakthrough in acceptance of how we actually look, as opposed to how we think we still look, we decided that purchasing 2 family sized delight pizzas from Papa Murphy's for dinner once a week--that's the second time I referenced them in 7 days, I'll expect my check in the mail sometime next month Mr Murphy--probably isn't the most effective way to keep a trim figure. Also, the blasted MN winter hasn't helped, as after about 4 weeks of grey and cold, your body immediately goes into "not doing shit" mode, and your couch and ass automatically grow opposing magnets that are so powerful, it is near impossible to remove one from the other, so come June, you are lucky if your entire lower body hasn't atrophied and you are still able to walk.

So, since we--mostly me--cant handle not eating delicious food--as in I'm not dieting, kiss my growing fat ass--we came to the conclusion, that we will work on smaller portion sizes, and actually do something active after work. And because we--me--cant run worth dick--unless I'm being chased by a rapist--we decided to start riding bikes. 

And I have to tell you, I absolutely love it. Riding bikes is the shit. Your 9 year old self didn't lead you astray on that one; having your own bike and being able to ride it all around the town in the sunshine and look at all the animals and people and junk in the world is one life's most rewarding activities.

Now, like everything else in existence, there are people out there that will find a way to fuck bike riding up. They can take this simple act and morph it into something over complex and trendy and obnoxious, essentially killing the soul of what should be a fairly simple, lovely process. Riding my bike makes me feel at peace and one with the rest of the universe, which is no small feat considering the rage and anxiety disorders I am privy too generally make me want to kick the shit out of  99% of the population 75% of the time. So meeting anyone who dresses riding a bike up, or turns it into an exclusive activity is an automatic downer for me.  Luckily, I do know many people who are avid bikers, and not douchebags. They are helpful, and kind and not exclusionary, and willing to pass on their knowledge to you. These people are wonderful and should be held in the highest regard. That being said, I have some choice words for the rest of you aholes out there.

I have nothing against being competitive--in fact me and Jimbabwe--shout out to my Boo Andrea H for coming up with that kick ass nickname for my lifepartner--often get competitive as hell with one another while riding, and will see who can get to the top of a hill fastest, or who can ride no handed the longest. PS-Its not me. I don't ride no handed because I'm not a douche and because I'm too much of a pussy. Anyways, what I'm trying to say is, that's cool if you want to ride your bike competitively. I don't care if you want to sign up for races and buy lots of expensive equipment, and wear spandex even if you shouldn't. Go you. What I do mind is when I pass you on the street and you don't wave back or acknowledge my head nod because I'm not dressed like you or not wearing a helmet or  not sponsored by Erik's. That's when I get pissed. Because you are taking something I love, and turning it into something shitty. So really please, all I'm telling you is,

Hipster scum, don't think you are absolved of this crime either. You also practice exclusion, just in a different, more subtle form. Yes, I bought a new road bike. I didn't find it in my Uncle Marty's garage and fix it up myself because I don't know jack about bikes besides the fact that all Pink and Teal Huffys from the 80s rode better if they had neon colored clackers on the spokes. My bike didn't come with a cool shoulder satchel backpack, and I don't roll up my trendy thrift store-esk Urban outfitter jeans when I ride because I wear cutoff sweatpants like a normal person since I enjoy being comfortable. I don't pretend I think driving a car is equivalent to beating a litter of children to death with a sack of oranges because I'm a realist, and get that its not always plausible to ask someone to ride their bike 25 miles to work every day from the suburbs.  So if we happen to run into each other in the bike shop since I got a flat tire and I want to learn how to fix it, I would appreciate it if you didn't roll your eyes when I ask someone to show me what I need to buy.

All I'm asking, is that for this Holiday Weekend, we all just be cool with one another. We all like riding bikes. That's what its called. Not Cycling. You're riding a god damn bike. End of story. So lets all be nice and give each other head nods and smiles when we pass each other on our two wheels these next few days. Lets let riding a bike, be just that, and enjoy the sunshine and animals and fresh air and not having to be at work. Wow that was emotional. See, I told you riding a bike makes me a better person.

Have a good weekend Muffintops

~Maria