Aliens have green boogers and love Saltine Crackers

The next time I run into my 1st grade teacher at the supermarket, I will have to question her about my 6 year old self. Although I try to forget the details of my life before I harvested my prized boobs, I would like to verify my suspicions that I was a heavy mouth breathing child, sitting in the corner of the classroom, eating glue while my peers peacefully pasted popsicle sticks together for their parents’ refrigerator.

I was an awkward kid, there really isn’t any question about it. I remember spending hours with my best friend in the woods behind my parents’ house, searching for the ocean to sail to Europe. Although northern Vermont was a great place to grow up, it was not a sufficient region to find salt water, unless my saltine crackers happened to fall into the bath tub. Unfazed by the inconvenience of living in an inland state, we hiked through the wilderness , pretending that we were orphaned children escaping from our evil caretakers. I vaguely remember finding an alien spacecraft during one of these adventures, and maybe time traveling machine or two. Normal things.

In some ways, I think that I may still be the same kid with the overbite, admiring my boogers on the playground and protecting my family from creatures from another planet. That’s okay, this blog as well as my everyday life would be far less entertaining if I made more of an effort to fit in.

Recently I have come to terms with the fact that although I may not be like the other kids, I have nothing to be ashamed of and I have decided to only surround myself with people who appreciate my quirks and inspire me to be who I am. I may never be able to wear a white shirt without spilling my applesauce on it and I may always pick my wedgies in public. I am far from perfect, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I would rather be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.

Drooling Catholics hate poetry of the 18th century

I believe that it is a universal truth that sometimes meetings and lectures are boring. I think that we have all been in a situation, weather it was in high school pre-calculus class, a college lecture hall, or in a meeting at work, that we have felt like/or have actually fallen asleep. I am lucky that my current job keeps me entertained and that even the most boring of meetings, although sometimes painful, have never inspired me to doze out of consciousness. Although I currently have no use for this plan, being the caring and thoughtful citizen that I am, I have developed a set of directions to help napping enthusiasts escape the consequences of their inappropriate slumber. I do wish that I had thought of this three years ago when I was taking a course in 18 th century poetry. I am also posting this because I am self involved and I am craving your praises and feedback.

If you ever fall asleep during a class, meeting, or at dinner with the president of the United States; there is an easy and (I am assuming) effective way to dodge judgement.

1.) As soon as you realize that you have in fact taken an inappropriate nap and that you are not actually at Disney land with out your pants on, discretely remove any drool from your mouth. If you are dreaming about making out with johnny depp dressed as a rugged pirate, feel free to finish before continuing on this mission. This step is very important because the exercise will not be effective if there is slobber flooding your face. You can also consider yourself screwed if anyone, specifically the boss, teacher, or Barrack, catches you wiping your cheecks. Like any quality nose pick or butt scratch; discretion is key.

2.) if and only if you have successfully completed step 1 this mission should you bother with your continuation of your journey to escape. Once drool is removed, silently practice in your head the level of volume that you will use to speak when you finally raise your head. It is going to need to be in the form of a whisper, but loud enough for and onlookers to hear you. Imagine the voice that you used to tell your mom that you had to pee when you were in church or a theatrical performance. A whisper, but a whisper loud enough to to turn the heads of Catholics three pews in front of you. The kind of whisper that would still trigger a mother/ daughter discussion/ scolding about being an embarrassment in public.

3. Take a loud and exaggerated deep breath and slowly raise your head. It would not be a bad idea to rub your gas station lucky rabbit foot, and hope that people are acknowledging your performance.

4. slowly open your eyes and simultaneously not-in-church-whisper, " and in Jesus' name... Amen."


- professional freakshow

Bill gates makes lust to a pirate on roller-skates

It turns out that being single is not a terminal disease after all. Although for quite a while it was feeling like the only male attention I was receiving was from the mailman and I was convinced that I was destined to be a woman with twenty to thirty cats, it turns out I was wrong. I am not trying to make excuses, but one of the many reasons that I have been neglecting my freakshow blog, is because I have been dating the same boy for two months in a row. No small task.

I am hoping that by sharing with you the story of how we met, you may forgive me to being so lazy.

We have a plethora of mutual friends, but we had never been formally introduced. I had recently moved in to a house down the street from my favorite watering hole, and although this has been great for my blog and my amusement, my liver is a little sore. One night, When I was in the mood to make strangers feel awkward and out of place, I decided to do some social research.

My friend, Amanda and I worked for a solid five minutes to create a survey for some unexpected strangers to complete and we were confident that we could make some grown men squirm. Side note about Amanda: we have only been friends for a few months, and I adore her. When I tell her that I want to run down the street in broad daylight, dressed as pirate, she not only supports my decision, but offers to run next to me dressed as a dinosaur. Kindred spirits. I need to be surrounded by more people who inspire be to be myself, despite the social norms that are violated as soon as I step out my front door.

Here is a copy of the survey that we created. Please picture this hand written and on a piece of receipt paper. I am resourceful. Very Mcgyver like.

1. Do you believe in magic? Y or N

2. The perfect wife:
A. Cleans gutters
B. Wears blue and cooks bacon
C. Can suck a nail out of a 4 x4
D. All of the above

3.I wish my ________ was bigger and my _________ was smaller.

4. I make lust most like:
A. The big bad wolf
B. A goldfish out of water
C. A giraffe on roller-skates
D. Bill Gates

5. What do you hope to find at the end of a rainbow?

Will you marry me? Y or N

If no, could you hand in marriage be bought with a ham and cheese sandwich? Y or N

Still No? How about extra cheese? Y or Y

Naturally, I decided that this survey was best suited for either the sketchiest lad in the bar or an elderly woman. I knew though that I could not have my first read through with my creepy prey. I would need to warm up. I then spotted John and decided to approach him with my survey. Although he refused to answer the questions, he laughed and confirmed my self beliefs that I am hysterically delightful. We chatted for a while, and I knew that I was in trouble. Not wanting to try too hard to win his attention, and because the riot of the survey was dying out, I knew that I needed to devise a plan that would redirect the room's attention back to me.

I moved on and found a tattooed man with gaged ears. I asked the survey questions, he answered, but was in no way interested in marring me. He may or may not have tripped over his own foot trying to run away. For the rest of the night, whenever he would walk past me, I would whisper "husbannnnnd" in his general direction, in the most creepy of ways.

I didn't talk to John for the rest of the night, but I was happy to see him when I joined the running/ drinking club a few weeks later. I was not so happy when he watched me eat the pavement fifteen feet into my run but I figure that if he can watch me fall on my face and harass tattooed men and STILL ask me to dinner, that has to be a good sign right?

- professional freakshow

Pleasuring electronics

I recently purchased an IPad and I am not ashamed to admit that it has quickly transformed into my family, best friend, and lover. I have no new freakshow stories to share with you this morning,but I wanted to test the convenience of blogging from my new obsession.

Cheers


- professional freakshow