Archive for the 'trips down amnesia lane' Category
-image-Yet Another Facebook Revelation
So there I was, innocently and wastefully playing Words with Friends, when I checked backed into FB and noticed a ‘friend suggestion’ who I recognized as a boy I knew from middle school…
and Wednesday nights at the roller rink.
He did attend my school and was a grade ahead of me. My good friend and neighbor, also a grade ahead of me, had a crush on the boy, so we’d be giddy on the busride home Wednesday afternoons fantasizing about this boy (and the many other awesomely 80s-tastic boys on 8 wheels).
After lacing up our rental skates and tying on my rainbow pom-poms, we’d head out for some laps and check who showed up. Halfway through the night, the DJ (seriously) would announce some special skate where the boys would be on one side, girls on the others, and you could skate out and ask another person to skate, hand in hand.
That. Is what it was all about.
My friend and her crush often skated hand in hand. Mostly, I stood and waited and…then shuffled to the edge and grabbed a surprisingly delicious hot pretzel and melty cheese from the snack bar.
Or, just as often, I’d skate to the bathroom and put that big ass comb from my back pocket to work on my feathered locks.
Fastforward to now, when my friend’s crush, the boy, popped up on FB, and I clicked over to his profile.
He’s married with children. Not surprising.
He lives in the south. Somewhat surprising.
He and his children are a religious country singing group. um, what?
He owns a salvage company. For UFOs.
The end.
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
9:55 pm |
-image-Addiction Sucks. Then You Go to Prison.
Two people popped up as suggested friends today on Facebook, who the last I knew, were both incarcerated.
Two. In one day.
They both served their time (one, for the second time) and are now out, free to update their Facebook statuses and well, hopefully, get their lives back on a less illegal track.
One of the men was someone I graduated high school with (where I didn’t learn how to end a sentence without a proposition). I found out he was in prison before our high school reunion this past fall.
I always wondered what happened to him, and I wasn’t too surprised that he was in jail. My heart sank because he was one of those kids that you knew could go either way. I don’t know if he was into drugs in high schools, but in the past few years, he dabbled in meth– both partaking and cooking it. Meth sucks. I’ve watched enough Intervention to know that it’s not a pretty picture (like heroin! so chic! note the sarcasm), well, and I’ve also seen my friend’s prison photo. Jeeez. Not a good look for him.
I’m so glad he’s alive. I’m not sure I’m happy he’s out — don’t most people fall back into their same patterns, same group of “friends,” same lifestyle? I hope not for him and for the little baby he’s holding in his Facebook profile picture.
The other person who popped up as a suggested friend is the man from whom I bought my first car and who my family used to buy their cars from. C was an awesome salesman, kind, funny and one of those people everyone referred to as “SUCH a nice guy!”
When my dad told showed me his prison picture online over the holidays, I could NOT pick my jaw up from the floor for hours. I had no idea C had a problem with alcohol which tore apart his marriage, family and career. He repeatedly drove drunk and spent several years in jail. My heart goes out to him, too, and I hope he can rebuild the relationships that surely suffered.
This post really has no point. I’m not offering any new insight. I surely can’t give advice without sounding like a pompous a-hole with no experience in addiction. I just wish them the best and hope they accept my friendship.
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
9:20 pm |
-image-It’s Been Five Blogiful Years!
Happy blogiversary to meeee, happy blogiversary to meeee…
Happy FIVE YEARS OF VENTING and posting pictures of my adorable kids…
happy blogiversary to me.
I’m accepting gifts of the wooden variety. I prefer the traditional gift suggestions rather than the modern.
I mean, are they SERIOUS about a desk set for the 7th anniversary? Would thought up that? I’m guessing my old boss from my work in the corporate gifts world. May he suggest an engraved brass plaque on the front? Because that’s so what every person wants…to bludgeon themselves with.
I digress. It’s what I do. And let’s face it, you want me to digress and blast off some crazed obscenities about a perceived injustice. I began my blogging days bitching, and really, what a sage post that twas. I may have a few new suggestions/life rules to add, such as “call your children and grandchildren on Christmas, especially when you send nothing for them…possibly when your histrionic alcoholic shrew-wife passes out, then she won’t give you the silent treatment for a week, although if I lived with her, my goal would be silent treatments.” While that might not apply to everyone, I think one can pull some applicable tips for ones own lives from it. Such as: lower your expectations of your father-in-law.
Thank you for always having my back, supporting me when I’m down and never making me feel guilty for a poorly worded post or lack of postings. Thank you for your feedback and your friendship.
I’ve changed from being a new mom to being a part-time working mom to being a mom of two to being a mom of two who has an obsession with crafting and Veronica Mars. Note to self: crafting of Veronica Mars… oh the possibilities.
Who knows where the next year, let alone 5, will bring. Thank you for reading!
Keep reading or the blogger gets markered…and it’s permanent.
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
3:35 pm |
-image-Skinny Ankles
Alternate title: Why I’m Returning The Jeggings.
They didn’t even make it into the suitcase. Which, incidentally, got lost after I flew three different airlines (THREE) (SEPARATE) (AND NOT-YET-AT-LEAST-MERGED AIRLINES) to arrive five (cinco) hours late into my 20 year high school unfortunately-non-musical reunion.
But who really cares when you’re traveling without kids and you’re in need of a serious mental health break from the ones driving you into crazytown.
Back to JEGGINGS!
Apparently, these babies make me look like I have “two triangles for legs…or the world’s skinniest ankles.” (Thank you, dearest husband) They are sooo comfy though, but that’s no excuse, right?
*STILL*TO*COME…my 20 year high school reunion. To sum it up: the only way it could have been better is if more people would have come; and, I’m SO happy I went.
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
10:03 pm |
-image-Insecurity Resurfacing in the Form of…
JEGGINGS.
OH MY DEAR LORD I just purchased leggings…made of denim…with cargo pockets…and ZIPPERS AT THE ANKLES.
I completely blame my insecure high school self — it has to be her. Who else would be mourning the donation of her old Benetton and Esprit sweaters at a time like this? And my light pink hightops? At least I can find some thick black eyeliner in any solid drugstore, RIGHT? Good.
And if the fullblown Panic Shopping isn’t enough self-imposed drama for ya, how ‘bought my sophomore year boyfriend poking me on Facebook?! Out of the blue!? POKING ME. Not requesting to be my friend, but just POKING ME! That’s soooo him. BAH!
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
1:13 pm |
-image-A Little Early
Word around Facebook was that my 20th high school reunion wasn’t going to happen. People weren’t getting responses after emailing the class president, and another graduate decided to have her own get together over the summer since it looked like an apathetic no-go.
I was bummed. Me! The one who didn’t care about missing her 10th reunion and only keeps in touch with one friend. I thought about flying home for the summer get-together, but then I heard more about it, and it seemed like anybody who knew anyone from our class was welcome to come, and while I’m usually very inclusive, I felt like it wasn’t “special” enough.
20 years! TWENTY. Can’t we pull it together for a 20 year reunion? A good number of us were together from Kindergarten through graduation. We graduated with around 160 students from what the larger, surrounding schools called “Farm Country.”
I really was surprised at how disappointed I was that we weren’t going to have an official reunion. I tried to rationalize that Facebook could be the new reunion site… create a group, find our friends, and catch up there. I basically have caught up with many of the same people I’d be hoping would attend the reunion.
But then some people rallied and dates and events have been set. One of the organizers surprised me, as Billy (now Bill) wasn’t an extracurricular kind of guy that I remember. Someone who mocked organized anything…but now he’s the dad of four and willing to laugh and acquiesce to my repeated requests to call him Billy throughout the reunion weekend.
The reunion isn’t until the Fall, but my body has already reverted to high school full blown zit status. It’s probably not too early to start practicing my mall bangs.
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
8:13 pm |
-image-6th Grade Squirrel…Collage Style
I had to look up the directions for this assignment because the collage does not make sense. Hmmm, well it appears the assignment simply asked me to “make a self collage …showing your interests, experiences and favorite things.”
It appears I really,
really loved fried chicken. Who doesn’t? I ordered it all the time from the
restaurant my grandparents used to take my brother and me to. I think it was the giraffe. Or the lion. See, all the kids meals were named after animals. You’d think it would have been “the chicken.” But it wasn’t. They also had some majorly ridiculous biscuits and honey before the meal. And if it was your birthday? You got a free 2 story chocolate cake. Yes, 2 story. You knew I liked
2 story houses, but cakes? Oh yes. My mom always made 13×9 cakes (evident in the Stir ‘n Frost box pictured), so to have the circular 2 layer cake? Dreamy.
Back to the collage…One would think, what with three dogs featured, I love dogs. While I don’t mind some dogs at this point in my life, in 6th grade, I definitely didn’t like dogs. They jumped, yipped, nipped and chased me. So why in the heckola did I put three dogs on this stupid collage? AND THEN THERE’S THE CAT! WTF little Squirrel?
Some things make sense — the McDonald’s sign, Coke, the rainbow, I
can do a cartwheel. And a round-off; I can even do a front walkover… not that I’m bragging (note: 11 year old Stacy would have had to prove that for you and would have been bragging). Ok. Maybe I’m bragging a little. Because I’m sad.
What’s with the little 100 rectangles? I think I just liked the pattern. I’m reaching here, people.
This clustermess makes a whole lot more sense when I realized what I had to work with in order to make this collage. Thinking back at the magazine stash available, all of these things came from my mom’s
Good Housekeeping. Can’t you see it now? Doesn’t it make a bit more sense?
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
8:13 pm |
-image-It’s Been 9 Days
since my last (and first) confession.
It seemed to do you as much good as me (and I don’t think any of you left me for good over it, right?). RIGHT?
Here’s my next confession:
When I was little (maybe 7 or 8), I remember riding home in the back of my parents’ car and looking out the window to the right. In the lane next to our car was a rusty sedan with a full backseat. I could tell three kids sat in the back, but I could only see the boy in the window next to our car.
Then, what I can only describe as a wolf boy leaned forward from the middle seat and looked right at me before sitting back quickly. He didn’t look quite this hairy, dark or old — he seemed more my age, but it all happened so quickly.
I sat shocked, mouth open in the car, as his car pulled ahead of ours. I never saw that car nor that wolf boy again, but I swear on everything I hold dear that I saw a boy afflicted with hypertrichosis and no, it wasn’t Teen Effing Wolf. I think that came out years later.
Does anyone else have weird shit like this happen to them, that you SWEAR happened but you’re kind of scared to admit it because you know others will think you’re crazy?
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
10:06 pm |
-image-Facebook: Hiding Behind the Name
Can you tell I spend a lot of time on Facebook?
I still haven’t convinced Mr. Squirrel to get on Facebook, in spite of me being ‘friends’ with several of his college friends. Actually, I think he prefers it. He doesn’t have to maintain the connection, but I can inform him if something important happens, like that his best friend is in the states or it’s so-and-so’s birthday (not that he’d actually, you know, contact this person to extend best wishes). I don’t mind actually. It’s just funny.
The whole Get Mr. Squirrel on Facebook Campaign came grinding to an official halt, however, when I noticed two photos of my friend’s husband uploaded from a high school friend of his. One was a class photo from 2nd grade — little V clad in a plaid color wider than his shoulders. He looked adorable. I’m pretty sure I cooed; and really, you can’t hold a 2nd grader responsible for what I’m sure was hip polywear at the time. But then a most unfortunate 8th grade dance picture surfaced with V sporting a shirt straight from Chess King and a (you might want to sit down…except you probably are since most people don’t read blogs standing at a computer so never mind) black fedora. Yes. A black fedora with a white ribbon.
Oh V. Say it wasn’t so…but it was. It was the 80s and I FEAR what I was wearing that same night in my midwestern hometown, cuz I was no doubt uglyin’ up something fierce…just not from Chess King. More likely a Forenza sweater and some truly horrific bangs.
I showed Mr. Squirrel the pictures, and well, Facebook is dead to him. No way will he let himself be publicly ChessKinged by old “friends.” I can’t say I blame him.
I realized that the embarrassing pictures which can surface (in addition to my low self-esteem) could be why I haven’t changed my name on Facebook to include my maiden name. This allows me to hide in a way that most married men cannot do, since most married men don’t give up their name. I like it. I can add my maiden name at any time to take a step into the past. If I want. I’m still debating.
=====
That 80s blog I stumbled on for the Chess King reference had me crying. Check out the review of Trapper Keepers. Classic.
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
10:32 pm |
-image-Holiday Gift Suggestions (1 of Many)
I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW. It’s Halloween. I KNOW.
But my favorite catalog arrived in the mail yesterday, and I must share with you some of what I’ll be purchasing for my friends and family this holiday season.
For the past five years or so, I’ve ordered from this company, and the gifts never disappoint.
Two Three OK, all the new Demotivators in particular crack me up this year.
I can’t wait to include them in some made-to-order calendars.
My husband usually makes a calendar for one of his sardonic coworkers.
I tend to buy some notecards. Maybe this year I’ll get a tshirt. I’m so excited.
Maybe my love for Demotivators stems from the overuse of Successories by one of my first bosses.
I once cataloged his ridiculously (un)impressive collection of motivational audio and video tapes, which lined his office walls. Maybe if he’d spent less money on syrupy motivational posters, conferences, books and tapes, he could have afforded a therapist.
Seriously, this guy was a monumental asshat who spouted mindblowing quotes like “I’m sorry that that happened to them. But we’ve got work to do.” (when we heard about the Oklahoma City bombing), “that’s their problem” (regarding his daughter’s generation and his disinterest in recycling/reducing energy usage), and “we should call you perky” while looking at my chest.
He also coined this gem about his alarm clock: “I think of it as an opportunity bell!”
During weekly staff meetings, we were forced to stand because that’s what the Japanese do.
But buy a car that’s originally Japanese (like my beloved Toyota Corolla or his wife’s Honda Accord)? That was frowned upon. After I leased my Corolla, he announced a company perk wherein if you purchased an American made car, he’d give you $500 towards it. My Corolla was made in Tennessee, but that didn’t count.
I could go on and on, but then you’d want me to send you his address so you can send him a giant balloon bouquet in the shape of a turd, and I don’t have it handy since he left his wife for a woman he met online. Damn.
AND there ya go. My first of many holiday gift suggestion posts. Don’t give up hope on finding that perfect gift, my friends.
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
8:55 am |
