how to tell if it's a good day

You know it's a good day if someone you've never met posts a comment on your blog, and his name is superflywebpimp. There is just nothing wrong with that!



arrivederci, rebecca marie

see? it's not a DISorder at all!

Remember when I said it should be called obsessive compulsive in order? Well lookie lookie what I found! Drew's take on OCD yay!

arrivederci, rebecca marie

P.S. Drew is a brilliant web comic. more of his drawings can be found at toothpastefordinner. i also highly recommend his sister's site which is called nataliedee, but she is brilliant for much more offensive reasons and you can only click that link if you are over eighteen. i have no way of verifying your age, so we are all on the honour system (honour with a u, as it is more honourable that way).

i've seen the face of satan

The other night I really really wanted ice cream really really bad. Bad, real bad. So I got in the car, in my yoga pants, a turtleneck, a zip up hoodie, and my socks. I didn’t feel that the occasion called for shoes. Someone told me once that it is illegal to drive without shoes, but I think they were just trying to scare me, since I do it all the time. But sometimes there just isn’t time.

Anyway, I got sidetracked. Dairy Queen is quite a way down the road, but that was what I wanted. Bad, real bad. I will settle for a McFlurry, in a pinch, but I’d rather not, as I find the word "McFlurry" offensive, and I resent McDonald's for making me say it. I can turn on the resentment for any reason, consider yourselves warned.

Man, lost my train of thought again! So anyway, I’m driving down the road to Dairy Queen, hoping the whole time that they take debit cards, as I had no cash. I got there, pulled into the drive (I’m having a hard time not rapping right now "pulled into the drive and ordered two big macs and two large fries and cokes….. " I loved D.J. Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince!) to check the window for the old visa logo.

Well, I didn’t see it, and I had on no shoes, so I couldn’t go in and ask, and I refuse to be the idiot stuck sandwiched in the take away line who can’t pay but can’t get out, so I left. And headed for the Golden Arches onaccountabecause like I said, I really really wanted ice cream. Bad, real bad.

So about halfway there? I realized my debit card was at home on my desk, cause I’d been doing a wee bit of shopping online. So I had to go home. With. No. Ice. Cream.

And that my friends? Is what evil feels like.



arrivederci, rebecca marie

dreadful sorry, janni laine

arrivederci, rebecca marie

i dig stripes

yeah that's right, stripes. i really really like stripes.



arrivederci, rebecca marie

everyone's gotta soapbox

Sometimes people are just begging for me to hate them. I’ll give you a quick example. I have a hard time saying no to kids selling stuff, pretty much I’m a sucker. I was coming out of the grocery store on Friday, and the girl scouts were there. So, when the sweet little nine year old said “Ma’am? Would you like to buy some cookies?” I wheeled my cart right on over.

So there I am, buying my cookies, when the sweet little girl repeats her schpeel to the woman behind me. The woman says to the girl “Well, I don’t know, are the girl scouts still putting partially hydrogenated vegetable oil in their cookies?”

The poor little girl was dumbstruck. She just stared, open mouthed at the woman. So the woman says, “Well, lemme read the ingredients…”

I was unable to resist comment, so I said to the woman, “Oh, just buy the cookies and crumble them up and feed them to the birds!”

Her reply? “Well! I really don’t think that it would be very healthy for the birds, either!”

I’m not kidding. Woman! Get off your zero Trans fat high horse and at least be kind to the girl scouts! Be healthy, fine. Just don’t make the little nine-year-old feel bad about it.

So I leave the store, and she leaves too, and she’s all shaking her head in disgust. Man, I really wish I’d bet the girl scouts mom what kind of car the Trans fat woman was driving, cause I would’ve nailed it. Subaru Outback. Could it possibly have been anything else?

What makes me the happiest about all of this? She’s somewhere telling this story right now, and I’m the bad one in her version and it’s cementing her case for over-all hatred. Right On.



arrivederci, rebecca marie

no no no no no no no no no no

So April comes in and she goes, "Hey Rebecca Marie! You wanna hear the grossest thing ever?"

And I’m all like, "Word! You totally know I do!"

And she’s all like, "Yesterday? Mario came in and went to the bathroom, right? And he freaks out in there….."

And I interrupt her and I’m like, "Oh no, worms?"

And she’s like, "No….."

And I’m all, "!!!!! Grosser than worms?"

And April, she goes, "There was a great big rat drowned in my toilet!"

And so of course I’m all, "Liar!!!"

And she says to me she goes, "No! Gabe and I accused Mario of bringing in a dead rat to trick us, but he swears it was realy just in there!!!"

And I’m like, "LIAR!!!! This is an URBAN LEDGEND!!!!"

And she’s all like, "I totally swear!"

And I said to her, I go, "You. Have. To. Bring. Me. A. Picture."

And she says to me "Okay, I’ll email you it over the weekend."

I swear. This conversation just happened.



arrivederci, rebecca marie

the happenings of things

Some days, things happen. What I mean is like, some days, you lose your keys (well, Elvis has them, but whatever), some days you forget how to spell, some days you want to grouch at people all day long. Some days you keep misjudging the door jambs and you keep ramming your shoulder into them, some days you burn your dinner, some days you can’t remember your own phone number, some days you sit on your butt and watch the news till you’re late, some days you pick at a hang nail until it’s hamburger and then press on it because you kinda like the intriguing pain, some days you can’t get your radio to tune into the political talk fella on a.m. that you like, some days you find an ant in your coffee cup, some days you get a paper cut with a file folder right between your fingers, some days you have to scrape ice, some days you forget to watch something on the television that you were looking forward to, some days you wish you had some lime Perrier but you don’t, some days you can’t find your eyeliner and so you look very very surprised all day long, some days you have your mail stolen, some days you ate too many carrots, some days you wish you were listening to Simon and Garfunkle but you can’t find your disc, some days you feel like shouting at people for no reason, some days you check out a talking book from the library and it’s one of those annoying ones that never says "end of side blanketie blank" so you listen to dead air for a real long time before realizing it’s time to turn the tape over. You see what I mean, some days, things happen.

Why is it today that I keep writing on my fingernails by mistake? I’ve got the prettiest French manicure and I keep inking it all up. Dang it. I wish I’d’ve just found an ant in my coffee cup again. That’s a better thing.



arrivederci, rebecca marie

ode to vickie

With absolutley no warning, I feel ill. But, being the kind girl that I am, I still gave the receptionist a break. She was complaining, loudly, and with lots of bad swears, about how if she doesn’t get a break she’s gonna like, slash my tires and spit in my coffee cup and stuff (that was all a lie, she’s a delightful woman, and only says kind things). So I was all "Back off Vickie, I’ve got the stomach flu, I’m pretty sure, but by all means, go gallivant around town while I puke into your garbage can." (that wasn’t true either, in fact, Heatherina and Estephanie both offered to cover for me, but I said I’d be fine.)

So, Vickie came back from lunch and saw that I was at her desk, all breathing on her stapler and stuff, in between swigs of Pepto Bismol and Seven Up. And she said "Oh great, the sick girl is all breathing on my stapler and stuff."

HA HA HA HA HA. No one tell her I licked all over her phone, kay?



arrivederci, rebecca marie

P.S. I totally didn’t lick her phone, but I told her I did, then she said, "you probably did, and now you’re gonna put that in your blog." So, basically? This was all just for her onaccountabecause I dig her.

i fear change

(watch out, in the following two sentences I’m going to pretend to be from the UK and Texas, it’s gonna be awesome) My favourite colour is black. All y’all who want to tell me that black is not a colour can just cool it. It is to me, so there.

Maybe I like it too much though. Today, I’m wearing black shoes, black socks, black pants, a black shirt, and a black pashmina. Actually, rarely am I not wearing black. My coat is black, my denim coat has a black fur collar (rabbit, and it’s real too, thank you Janni Laine), all but one pair of slacks are either black or grey. I’ve about forty black turtlenecks. Probably fifteen pairs of black underwear (why is it called a pair?). Black socks too, they are everywhere.

Now, you are probably picturing that I’m some goth girl. Well, you just couldn’t be further from the truth. Nothing goth about me.

Anyway, the only reason that I’m telling you all this today, is that I’m gearing up for a change. Up to this point, I’ve been so happy about my love of black and happy to surround myself with so many nice black things. But, this morning, I was late to work because of black. I was looking for shoes, and I found SIX shoes, all black, and not a single one from the same pair. I actually shouted at my closet, I was so aggravated. I told it, "just give me a match already and I’ll wear it!" Well, it did, and it happened to be the pair with the gremlin in it, so that was fine. But it was too late, and then, so was I. And then? My boss beat me to the office.

So now, I’m going to have to buy some things more representative of the rainbow. The last thing I want is to lose my job over my love for black and then have to hate it forever.

Don’t cry black! I didn’t mean it!! I take it back! I'm sooo sorry! I will always love you!



arrivederci, rebecca marie

why isn't it called "obsessive compulsive in order?"

So what if I count all my steps? Who cares if I'm unable to write with a pen whose lid is not lined up with its letters? Does it matter at all that I'm unable to enjoy a glass of ice water if the cubes were not removed from the tray in a specific order? I'm the only one who is affected by my inability to wear shoes that tie because I can't get them tied to equal tightness on both sides. I am so okay with my obsessive compulsive in order.

But, take warning. I may kill someone in the next hour. You see, I've got one pesky strand of hair that I can't keep out of my face. And, one strap of my camisole won't stay up. In my constant quest for symmetry, these two things are enough for me to go flying right off the edge of my proverbial cliff. Once i explain myself on the witness stand, this information will be enough to get me off if there is but one juror who also suffers from obsessive compulsive in order (or, enjoys it as the case may be).

And, if I need to go with insanity? Fine by me. I hear they are doing lovely things with padded cells these days.



arrivederci, rebecca marie

happy birthday janni laine!

I hope this year is full of special blessings for my Janni Laine. The cake is cherry chip. Janni Laine rules the school.



arrivederci, rebecca marie

p.s. just for today, tomorrow *I* go back to ruling the school, thank you very much.

if you love me, you'll give me just a dash of credit

Of course I get that "wrekt" was a play on the word wrecked. If you know me at all, even a little, you will know what about that I don't get.

Thank you for your emails. Now stop it please.



arrivederci, rebecca marie

as it turns out, i don't have all of the answers

I like to think that I possess above average intelligence, Actually, I know that I do. My IQ is 135, and 126 – 135 is considered "gifted borderline genius." One more point and I’d be considered "highly gifted and appearing to be a genius to most others." That could have been the difference between having eaten breakfast or not the day of the test. There are some things I struggle with. For example, I have a tendency to over apostrophize. I get to typing in the yakkety box and I put apostrophes in where they don’t go. That’s just one silly example of something that I struggle with. I figure, there is so much stuff in my brain, I just can’t fit the rules of apostrophizing in there (hee hee, I love that word!).

However. There are just some things that I just don’t get. If I don’t get them, with my above average intelligence, how is man-about-town supposed to get it?

Like the vanity plate I saw the other day that said "wrekt." Hmm? I’m sorry, but what?

Or the voice over ad I just heard on the radio that said "You can’t count on the guy in front of you to use his turn signal, but you can count on Liquid Plumber." Wait, what?

Or the "fun fact" I heard last Friday (I wrote this down, so I’d remember it, I was so baffled) that stated the following; If half of the people who watch the super bowl discuss it for 10 minutes during the work day, and the average wage per hour of the demographic that watches the super bowl is $25.00 per hour, it will cost American employers $212,000,000.00. Who figures this stuff out? I don’t get this.

What about the fact that I’m not Irish, yet people still expect me to wear green on March the 17th?

Or Mayonnaise. I don’t get that.

How about people who send you email forwards without cleaning them up so that you can see everyone who they sent it to? I don’t get that either.

Oh no, do you see what just happened here? I thought that I was going to tell you all about things I don’t understand. But it turned into therapy. Right on.

So, here’s a picture of something else I don’t get. For no good reason.



arrivederci, rebecca marie

devilish wee beasties

Gremlins are neato. Or maybe it’s gnomes, or trolls. I’m not sure, but whatever it is, they make cool crap happen. Like, there was this gremlin that lived in the front passenger wheel of Wade’s Datsun 210 (you wanna talk about a sweet ride, make that car your topic of conversation). It made a pretty sweet clanking noise, so that’s how Wade knew there was a gremlin in there.

How about the gremlins that live in your dashboard. They are pretty righteous too. The run all around, making all kinds of racket, then, when you smack the dashboard real loud? They get scared and hush up for a minute. They forget that they were supposed to be on the down-low however, and after a few minutes they start right up with the racket again.

I’m not particularly fond of the gremlins that sneak around knocking pictures off the wall. You know, they wait till you’re really distracted, like by the talking picture box, or the cat puking under the kitchen table, and they run by and knock the Van Gogh print off the wall. They always hide real real quick after they do it, too. So you whip your head around and they're nowhere to be seen, but there’s your picture, on the floor.

What mystifies me right now is the gremlin living in my shoe. I’ve got these shoes, black, with a big fat stacked heel. They’re pretty new still, but there’s a gremlin in the heel of the right shoe. I hear it in there, jazzercising or something real rowdy. I thought it was a stone or something, but I examined the heel, and there is no opening of any kind, where a stone would have slipped in. So all I can think is it was sleeping in there at the factory and when the heel got glued on, he was trapped in there.

Man, I hope my shoe doesn’t stink when it goes teats up in there.



arrivederci, rebecca marie

mojo nixon is a liar, it's not elvis who is everywhere

I have this friend called Tom. I must be missing him lately, as this is the second time I’ve mentioned him here. Anyway. He’s a really handsome guy, and he’s got a bee-you-tee-full wife called Paula. I’ve only met Paula twice, but I know I totally dig her, probably because she’s nice but also because she’s Tom’s wife, and that makes her pretty good to me.

Brandon said that Paula looks like Maria Shriver. And by golly he was right! I almost didn’t want to write that here, as Paula is so much prettier than Maria Shriver. She’s more like a younger, softer, less angular Maria Shriver. But, that has nothing to do with this post, so I’ll move on.

Tom looks like everyone. No, that’s not right. Everyone looks like Tom. I don’t know if he knows this or not, but everywhere I go (okay, maybe more like three fourths of the places I go) I find myself blurting out, “hey, you’re Not Tom.” There are Not Toms all over the place! I don’t really understand this, but there it is.

Janni Laine said that there is a mysterious lack of Not Toms in Central Oregon. I was too busy being horrified by eleventy billion other things while I was in Central Oregon to be on the look out for Not Toms but I’ll be sure to watch for them next time I’m there.

In college, there was a fellow who was especially Not Tom. By especially Not Tom, I mean that Jim looked exactly like Tom. Exactly. It was creepy. Shifty even. So, Wade goes and he writes Jim a note in Mr. Way’s English class. It said; “Dear Jim, You look like Tom. Love Wade.” He folded it up and passed it along to Jim. Jim pretended to be a little confused when he opened it and read it but I know that deep down inside he got it.

I mean how could he not get it? Not Toms are everywhere!



arrivederci, rebecca marie

combination extravaganza

Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper. That has nothing to do with anything, but I just saw a commercial for it and it fascinated me, so I thought I’d start by saying it. It was just as nice to say as I thought it would be. I’m gonna say it again, even. Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper.

I think there should be more things like that. I mean, just in general. Like, Caramel Cinnamon Chocolate Kettle Corn. Or, better yet, Low Carb Caramel Cinnamon Chocolate Kettle Corn. I mean, if the Dr. Pepper People can do it everyone else should get to do it, too.

And while we are in the midst of flavor combining, lets just throw other stuff into the mix as well. Like, I dunno, jobs. Here, I’ll try one. “When I grow up, I want to be a Juggling Midwife Janitor Salesman.” Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to sell juggling midwife janitors, I want to be a midwife who juggles, keeps things clean and sells stuff. And maybe you could be a Firefighting Editorial Receptionist. I dunno. They both make as much sense to me as Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper.

How about taking a look at appliances while we are at it. I can think of several circumstances where a Toaster Dryer Drill Burner would come in handy. Or maybe a Pencil Sharpening Ice Crusher Curling Iron. I’d never leave home without mine, no siree-bob.

For some reason, I am in the mood for a Tupperware Lingerie Costume Mary Kay party all of the sudden! I’d better find some Country Rap Rage Ska music to listen to.

Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper. Jeesh. Actually, I’ll be honest; I’m curious what it tastes like. Maybe I’ll just hop onto my Pogo Stick Rocket Car and head on over to the Beauty Supply Shoe Baseball Card Grocery Store and check it out!



arrivederci, rebecca marie

i'm too grouchy to blog today

arrivederci, rebecca marie