Tag Archives: Meijer

I dreamed I rode a skateboard

Posted on June 8, 2012 by funnygurl2

The other night I dreamed I was riding a skateboard. Not doing any tricks, but just riding it down the sidewalk, feeling the wind rush past my face. I was going faster than I ever would dare in real life and very sure of myself that I would not fall off.

After I woke up, I kept thinking about the nice rush I got in the dream. Sort of like riding a bike, but in the dream it seemed like less work. I let my mind wander to what I would put on my skateboard if I could have a custom picture on it. This is what came into my head. Then I had to draw it to try to get it out of my head. It is sort of like Harajuku girl meets Punky Brewster, with a little bit of Cartman when the aliens make him sing because of the probe in his ass.

The skateboard design in my head


The only skateboard I have ever actually owned as a kid was a skinny red plastic one from Meijer. I liked it, but fell off it a lot. I never had one of these fancy wide wooden boards that the teenage boys have today. If I won the lottery tomorrow, I just might buy one to horse around on, just because of this dream. But I forget that I am old and the ground is harder than it used to be. And less forgiving. And that I would never have a picture this cool on my board.

I’m not stalking you. is NOW ON FACEBOOK! “Like” that I’m not stalking you and get an update when there is a new post to read. (It is sort of like YOU are stalking ME.)

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Boxelder Bugs Must Die!

Posted on April 13, 2012 by funnygurl2

Ugly little sucker.

I never really had Boxelder Bugs anywhere I had lived, until I moved into my house. I was told you only have them when there is a Boxelder tree nearby. As far as I know, we only have Walnut and Maple and Pine trees near us. Maybe a better name for them would be aluminum siding bugs, since that is where they love to hang out at my house.

I find Boxelder Bugs totally gross. But I was willing to only kill the ones that made it into the house. It is convenient that my dogs will eat them as “treats”. But then came the bad year. The Boxelder Bugs filled up my hard in big piles. I wanted to spray them with nice, poisonous bug spray. But my husband said that would kill the grass. I should never have listened to him. (Sorry Honey, but I think the grubs are doing in your grass faster than my bug spray would have.)

Mating. All over my porch.


So, I let them live that day. Then they started coating my house. They fornicated all over my porch. They laid their nasty little gold eggs all over my house siding and chain-link fence. I was overrun and distraught and disgusted by their very existence. I complained to everyone I knew. Finally, someone told me the secret. The wonderful murderous secret I use to my advantage to this day.

Dawn dish soap.

Yup. The same dish soap you buy at Meijer. The one that has pictures of cute little penguins on it and claims to help save wildlife. Dawn dish soap has been responsible for the murder of thousands of Boxelder Bugs at my house. I fill up the weed sprayer with a small amount of Dawn and lots of water. And I suffocate the hell out of those mother fuckers.

It took a lot of time and determination that year, but I did get the Boxelder Bugs under control. The mistake was letting them lay eggs, because Dawn doesn’t work on the eggs. The only way to kill the eggs is to smush them. They are small, so sometimes they just fall off too. Your best bet is to spray them when they are tiny little hatchlings with only fur for legs.

Threesome.


This year looks to be almost as bad, with our easy winter and early summer temperatures. But I saw them outside my window mating. So promiscuous. I grabbed my weed sprayer and went to town on them. Oh yes. My husband has an old ice shanty he leaves sitting by the driveway, against the house. And his toolbox for his truck. And they live there. I should move those obstacles, because I bet there are just red nests teaming with colonies of Boxelder Bugs under there. I have to be sure to spray not only the side of the house, but also the front and then the back, as the sun moves throughout the day. It will take a few weeks of daily spraying, but then they will be knocked down for summer.

I wish I had a hazmat suit to wear when I spray. After years of seeing their numbers decimated, they are starting to fight back. I can’t stand those THINGS landing on me. On my legs, arms, in my hair. One even landed on my glasses-ick! I come back into the house and can’t even enjoy a job well done because I feel as though they are crawling all over me. I am all buggy.

Some PETA person might think what I do is awful. It is the same policy I have against bats, birds, squirrels (don’t get me started)—all creatures. They can live wherever they want, but not in/on my house. No freeloaders. And nothing with wings or feathers or creepy crawlie attributes.

Did I mention the live ones eat the other dead Boxelder Bugs. They are CANNIBALS! You know why they have red markings, don’t you?

They were created by the devil.

I’m not stalking you. is NOW ON FACEBOOK! “Like” that I’m not stalking you and get an update when there is a new post to read. (It is sort of like YOU are stalking ME.)

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You Give Hoodies A Bad Name

Posted on April 1, 2012 by funnygurl2

World English Dictionary
hoodie (ˈhʊdɪ)
— n
1. a hooded sweatshirt
2. a young person who wears a hooded sweatshirt, regarded by some as a potential hooligan
–from Dictionary.com

Hoodies have been in the news a lot lately. This post has really nothing to do with any of that.

When I was little, I had a blue zippered sweatshirt jacket I loved. You know the type, with two pockets and a drawstring for the hood. Many pictures exist with me wearing it. After the blue jacket, I believe I owned a red one. Then a grey one. Then a yellow one. For several years, I didn’t have a sweatshirt jacket, as they were referred to around my house. I don’t even think I realized they made them in adult sizes. Plus, at that time, jean jackets were all that was cool to wear.

Then when I was in high school, I found a red sweatshirt jacket adult-sized at my local Meijer store. I bought it and wore it all the time. It was just like the one I had as a kid, with the drawstring hood, zipper, and two pockets. When I was in college, I had no winter coat. I didn’t have the time or money to get one. But mostly, I probably just thought they were bulky and uncool. So I always layered my denim jacket over my red jacket when it was cold. Yeah, I was cool.

On Saturday Night Live, Adam Sandler sang a song called “Red Hooded Sweatshirt”. I totally felt he was singing about MY red hooded sweatshirt. I loved that song, although it never became as popular as say “Lunch Lady Land” or “The Chanukah Song”. The highlight of the SNL performance is the reaction by Adam Sandler to Sir Paul McCartney’s cameo.

I only had that one hooded sweatshirt for many years. After all, you only need one, right? Then I started a new job and met a crazy girl with green hair. (Of course she was crazy, she became friends with me, right?) She had a hooded sweatshirt for every day of the week, and then some. That is the first time I ever heard anyone use the term “hoodie”. I had to admit, it was kind of catchy. And I totally blame the green-haired girl for badly influencing me to increase my hoodie collection exponentially. I should probably also blame my employer at the time for keeping the building so cold that people had to run heaters under their desks to keep warm. And for a casual dress code.

The purchase of my favorite hoodie was the result of bad planning. My mom, soon-to-be-husband, and I went to Put-in-Bay, Ohio for the day. As it was summer, I didn’t take a jacket, completely forgetting that land surrounded by water (a.k.a. islands) are cooler than the mainland. So I found a totally overpriced hoodie in a souvenir shop and bought it. I thought I would wear it that day and never again. But, I have found, that sometimes impulse purchases are the best ones. (Or the worst ones, but I digress…) It is a beautiful sort of dark rose color. It has two snaps at the neck, which thank God, have never triggered my nickel allergy. It is just the right amount of too big for maximum comfort. It has a pouch on it, rather than two individual pockets. Brand new, the inside was super fleecy and warm and fuzzy. My green-haired friend (before she went on Paxil) coined a great term called “cocooning”. It is when you don’t really want to be at work or around anyone and anxiety is eating at you and you just want to hide in a cocoon away from the world. My Put-in-Bay hoodie was perfect for that. Nine years later, it is no longer as fuzzy. And the elastic cuffs on the sleeves started to rot off, so I had to cut them off. But it is still one of my favorites. And I am wearing it right now as I type.

Following Put-in-Bay, one of my favorite hoodies is my black “Spotted Cow” jacket. It was also super fuzzy when I bought it. Not so much anymore. When I wear it, everyone asks me if I work at the Spotted Cow (Uh, no. Duh. Why would they assume that? I just want to stay warm!). And then there was the time I told my friends it would be funny to have a shirt that said “I’m not stalking you.” Because, you know, that is just what someone who is stalking you would say. So I ordered myself a hoodie with that saying on it for my birthday.

I must admit for a while my hoodie addiction was out of control. And I have to control it every day. You never get over hoodie addiction. It is a disease you have to deal with one step at a time. By my estimate, I currently own about 16 hoodies, including one for bedtime. My favorites get worn more than the ones that are not. I must admit, during the summer I miss slipping into a comfy old hoodie. I even had a maternity hoodie when I was pregnant. It was blue. Very similar to the color of my first hoodie I can remember.

I still wear my red hooded sweatshirt, even though it must be around 20 years old now. (Damn, is that right? Time for a new wardrobe.) I know they make me look casual and sloppy and sometimes homeless, but I don’t care. Comfort shall reign supreme in my clothing kingdom. Eat that, What Not To Wear. And if someone shot me just because I was wearing a hoodie, I believe I would die happy:)

I’m not stalking you. is NOW ON FACEBOOK! “Like” that I’m not stalking you and get an update when there is a new post to read. (It is sort of like YOU are stalking ME.)

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The Church of Common Decency

Posted on November 30, 2011 by funnygurl2

The Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

What if there was a church where you didn’t have to believe in God? What if all you had to believe in was the goodness of each other? Believe in being nice to each other?

I want to promote people being good for the sake of being good. Not because they need to get into Heaven or stay out of Hell or stay on a deity’s good side. Everyone would just be nice to each other because it feels good, and for the potential universal karmic payback. If you are nice to someone today when they need it, maybe someone else will help you when you need it.

That is my new dream.

I must admit that this idea came out of experiencing the driving habits of inconsiderate drivers over and over again. My main example is when I was in the Meijer parking lot and had my back door open on my car. I was buckling my infant son into his carseat. A woman came out of the store, got into the van next to me, and proceeded to back out. She did this as I still stood there with my car door open and my easily squishable body behind it. I got so angry. How could someone take the chance of injuring two people and going to jail, rather than sit in her van for two minutes? Asked like that, doesn’t it seem obvious what the correct choice would be?

I had a very similar situation a few months earlier. My senior citizen mother was getting out of my car at the bank. She was getting her purse and her cane, the front door open behind her. A woman came out of the bank, got into her car directly beside us, and proceeded to back out. When she had parked, her front tires were turned. This caused her car to head right for my car door and my mom. It being summer, the woman had her window open and heard my exclamation, something like “Hey” (short for “Hey, what the hell are you doing?). Of course, she had been only looking behind her, with no regard for who she was about to squish. I think she gave a half-hearted apology, straightened her wheel, and back out the rest of the way.

More than just vehicle etiquette, there are tons of other situations in our daily life where we could help a stranger and it would create a big pay off. I guess maybe it could also be the Church of Common Courtesy. The mission statement could be something like:

Church of Common Courtesy
Our mission is to promote the good that is in everyone, encourage helping one another as much as your means and abilities will allow, and discourage evil and rude behavior.

I guess the problem is, people don’t like to be nice and polite. It is not a human’s natural state. That is why we have laws and religion already–to force people to follow the rules and get along when they don’t want to.

Ah, but a girl can dream…

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OMG, who is going to read this? What are they going to think of me? Is my blog just totally lame…

Posted on October 15, 2011 by funnygurl2

Anxiety: 1. the state of being anxious. 2. concern about an imminent danger, difficulty, etc.
Anxious: 1. uneasy in the mind.

I have anxiety. It often changes how I go about living my life, but I do the best I can to not be beat down by it. For people who don’t have it (or don’t have it in large quantities), it is probably hard for them to imagine what it is like.

My most recent example is that I wanted to buy two $5 gift cards from McDonald’s. I was afraid they would yell at me for not buying food too. Then I was afraid they would yell at me for only putting $5 on the gift cards. I ended up deciding to buy only one gift card, and I bought it at Meijer while I was already there so I wouldn’t have to face the anxiety of McDonald’s at all. (Of course, in all this I forgot that the people at McDonald’s aren’t paid enough to care about anything. That is a dig at McD’s, not at the employees.)

I have dealt with anxiety all my life. When I was younger, if I felt overwhelmed by anxiety, I cried. Which is why I got picked on in school (creating more anxiety, creating more crying, etc.). The prescription drug company commercials used to make me think I had depression (which I have had twice in my life), but that is not what I have every day. My friend had pretty serious anxiety too–maybe even more than me. But she went on prescription drugs and now that is no longer one of her biggest health issues. I don’t want to be a slave to doctors & pharmaceutical companies. I don’t want to deal with side effects. I don’t want to have to take a pill everyday for something that may only hit me a few times a week. Now, if there was “FAST-ACTING ANXIETY NOSE SPRAY FOR URGENT RELIEF”, I would be all over that. The most common time anxiety hits me is when I am trying to fall asleep. I have anxiety attacks about how I don’t want to be dead one day & cease to exist. Ugh, it is making my chect tighten & my stomach churn just to write it. Nose spray would really come in handy at these times.

Here is an excerpt from an old journal I recently found which provides a nice example:

Last night at the casino the food court was more like a cafeteria and I was scared to tell the grill guy that I wanted a cheeseburger. Then I was too scared to go up and get a refill. I just feel like everyone is always going to yell at me.

And no one has ever yelled at me for such things. Here is a poem from around the same time:

Worried
11/2/2000

I worry about things
I know about
I worry about things
I know nothing about
I worry about things
I have never done before
I worry about things
I do every day
I am beginning to feel
worried
that I worry
2much.

My husband doesn’t understand when I ask him to do something for me because I just cannot do it myself. This usually manifests as asking for help for something in a store and having to talk to a sales associate. Or giving my son a bath. I know that when I start the bath, if he starts crying or bumps his head or something, I can’t freak out and leave him in the bathtub naked. I have to finish the bath, no matter what, all the way through to putting on his PJs. And I find this scary. And too often I let my husband give him a bath because 1. he likes to & 2. I don’t have to overcome my anxiety to do it. Anxiety is probably one of the things that kept my mom at home throughout her twenties.

Sorry. Just felt like venting. I have been cleaning my house & unearthed some old poems/emails/journals that got me on this line of thinking. I wanted this blog to be a mish-mash of my life. And this is a big part of my life, even though many close to me do not know it.

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