Baking with Taste of Asia.

As you may have all come to realize, the people in my life are somewhat insane and should probably be under psychiatric care. I completely agree. However, one of the best examples of this statement is my best friend, "Taste of Asia". Why call her "Taste of Asia"? you might ask. Well, Frankly, it suits her. A few years ago, KFC introduced its "Taste of Asia" meal. It was essentially their standard fried chicken covered in an Asianesque sauce. It was something very white on the inside at its core, and Asian looking on the outside. Hence the resemblance to my comrade. One thing the reader may need to know about Taste of Asia is that she is a genius. Like most people that come from rigid Asian families, She is extraordinarily gifted in her academic pursuits. I frequently inform people that she is going to cure cancer someday. The downside to this wonderful talent, is that she can be completely retarded when it comes to simple every day things that anyone with an IQ over 40 could figure out. Sometimes, with the little things, her failure to grasp the concept makes me want to punch her in the vagina. Knowing Taste of Asia however, she would probably inform me that it was an insufficient way to harm someone and proceed to retaliate effectively. I could go on for hours about Asia and her many quirks, but you will all just have to trust that she is indeed, a "special" individual.

On this particular instance with Asia, I had called her on one of her few visits home from school to inquire as to when I might be able to see her slanted eyes and enjoy her akwardly sunny disposition. Upon speaking with her I was shortly informed that her friends dog had died and that he was pretty down in the dumps about it. I shared my sympathies for the dog at this juncture, but was completely aloof as to how its misfortune was going to effect me. Like many times I have been sucked into Asia's insanity, this had completely blindsided my ass and I was about to be taken on a ride. I was about to be hugely displeased. "Mads, I asked if there was anything I could do, and he said cookies might help. So I was thinking I'd Make him cookies. What do you think?", this alone should have tipped me off seeing as Asia has the cooking abilities of someone with anorexia. But a lass, it did not. " I think it's great dude, but can you even make cookies?"...."well, no. I was kinda hoping my best friend would help me??..." I could sense her puppy dog eyes through the phone and was pretty fucking pissed that I was falling for it. I find people of Asian decent always seem to look extra sad to me when they're upset, and Asia was no exception. "Ok, ya but, well, how many cookies am I making here dude?"..."just a few different kinds you know..."...At this point I made the horrible misconception that Asia's mathematical skills would transfer to a baking environment. WRONG. WRONG.WRONG. But I continued on my self destructive path. "Ok well how about after your work you come by and we can make them, I'll pick some out and then go get the ingredients. You better help though bitch! I'm not fucking around!" I informed her as I flipped through cookbooks and quizzed her on various varieties of cookie. By the end, we had picked out seven cookies that we were going to make in a matter of 5 hours. Yes I was out of my fucking tree and about to regret it the way I assume birds do when they get hit by a city bus. However, I enjoy a challenge, especially when Asia was involved. I feel any form of patience I show her gives me a fuzzy feeling much like helping an elderly person struggling with dementia remember that toothpaste goes in their mouth and is not a laxative.

Once I had gathered the necessary items I started what I could until Asia arrived. I knew any prep work I could get accomplished would definitely help out when she arrived and keep me as sane as was possible. Upon Asia's arrival I immediately set her to work. Her fear/inability to properly crack an egg baffled and amazed me but I pushed on. I have been told on many occasions that I am an impossibly talented baker, this I can only credit with endless practice and being a spawn of Platypus and somewhat related to my Grandmother who makes the best cookies on earth. You may protest at this point that it is in fact your Nana that makes the best cookies, but no. You're wrong. It's mine. Pre Asia's arrival, I had coordinated all the recipes vis a vi, time, steps and baking temperature. This was a well oiled machine and I was on a fucking mission to get this shit accomplished, despite the shortcomings of my pal. Things had been developing pretty well, and we were making good progress with a few incidents here and there. Asia was starting to feel as If she wasn't helping enough and wanted to start another cookie on her own, with minimal intervention from me, just to prove she could do it. At this point, I was elated that she was showing such fire for the cause and stupidly let her venture off on her own. I imagine the feeling that happened next is how parents feel when they allow their children to help with dinner and it ends up tasting like shit or having lego in it. You feel stupid and displeased all at once.

Before I describe what happens next, I would like to explain to the reader that the sugar/egg/butter ratio is VASTLY important to the shape and integrity of a cookie. Its a fact and I am adamant about it. Chef Michael Smith has even told me personally that he is impressed with my civilian understanding of the gastronomy of the cookie, I know my shit. I'm no noob.

I allowed Taste of Asia to explore her culinary skills while I fluttered my tiny kitchen trying to keep things together in regards to our other baking ventures. Then all the sudden, Asia wished to assume my task. I allowed it and went over to observe her cookie. I looked into the mixer and knew immediately something was wrong. I have a sixth sense when it comes to baked goods. I'm like Spiderman for cookies. "Asia?..what did you do?..." I inquired, Asia was irate at my implying that she was sucking at anything, and told me to calm the fuck down and stop being such a know it all. I asked her to repeat every action she just went through...sugar, egg,...butter.

I'd like to stop again and inform to you that butter comes with a measure on the inside of the package that indicates the denominations with which you can distribute your butter. People like myself with mad skills can figure this out without the ruler, but noobs, like Asia, are why the nice butter company provides you with this information. "Asia, how much butter did you put in?..."..."A cup like it said..."..."Um...no....you're wrong. Show me what you think a cup is..." At this point, I was ready to cry or laugh and I was still deciding which. Stupid confusions like this really piss me off. Because society tries to prevent dip shits from engaging in these activities by providing neat things like the butter fucking ruler, and if you don't know that by now I'd like you to go kill yourself, right now, because you suck. Asia got the butter and indicated what she put in.....1.5 cups.... greattttt.... how anyone could fuck that up considering that the butter is a single unit, and half of it is a cup, I REALLY don't know. How Asia failed to intake this information in her youth, I don't know. I guess they don't put butter in fortune cookies. But, I digress. At this point, I proceeded to completely lose my shit. " OH MY GOD YOU'RE COMPLETELY STUPID DO YOU KNOW THAT??? HOW OH HOW COULD YOU FUCK THIS UP????"

Asia seems to love when her pure stupidity causes me to lose my freaking mind and all the veins to pop out of my neck. This is the same woman who threw a shit fit when BBM ( Black Berry Messenger ) went down and she wanted to speak to her boyfriend, IMMEDIATELY. I tried to offer her options like texting but no, she wailed at me like this was the most in-excusable option anyone could present her with. " No Mads, It needs to be instant!" she yelled with the same inflection as someone negotiating in a hostage situation. " WELL DIPSHIT, there's this thing, it's called a phone. You call someone, on their phone, and they answer and you talk and then they talk and so on and so forth" , I was baffled to be explaining this to someone in an Honors program, but clearly she's a dumbass when it comes to basic compatibility with life. " No! it has to be Skype!!" ..." I don't have Skype, I'm not a newlywed with a loved one in Iraq or Oprah, I have a life"....Asia then proceeded to explain how I suck for not having Skype and how it was better. I realized in the 20 minutes it took her to infect my system with this program that she could be speaking with her boyfriend but this information was lost on Taste of Asia. She finally connected with him, proceeding to completely ignore me and leave me in the dark as to WHY their discussing nothing was so pivotal, but again, I try not to overburden her little mind with too much confusing stimuli. ANYWHO, back to the cookies.

"Calm down Mad's!! it's no big deal!" hahaha hahahaah ohhhh simple minded Asian, you DESTROYED my cookies. " You realize now we have to add an extra half the recipe worth of ingredients to make this work hey? I didn't budget time for that. However, considering you're assisting I really should have"..." What's that mean? Look I didn't know I'M sorry!"... I proceeded to yell at her for a good 5 minutes while she laughed hysterically at my aggravation. This little incident occurred at a time, Before Mancandy came into my life and mellowed me entierly, and I was a psychotic anal control freak. Any change in schedule would cause me to go bat shit insane like that shark in JAWS... I was displeased. I wasn't so much angry at Asia, I was angry at the school system for letting her down so incredibly. I think we may have been in the same home Ec class in Jr.High, so I really was mad at this kid falling through the cracks. However, in true fashion of Asia and I, She eventually got me to laugh at how irate I was Hugged me much in the same way you hug a kid who just fell off their bike, and calmly asked me what to do. Asia understands that at some point, I become the Hulk and want to rip her limbs off so she needs to cease her retarded behavior immediately. Good friends know when you're a second away from punching them in the fucking face. It's a good trait. Eventually, We actually got all 6 cookies and 1 type of chocolate truffle made. I was impressed. I felt much like I had just coached a special olympics team to a win. I was ready to fist pump and kick Asia the hell out of my apartment. Although our cookies came out great, as long as people like Asia exist in my life, It will continue NOT to be together.

** Asia, If you're reading this, know I love you and I treasure my dysfunctional moments with you. :) like when you had me listen to the spanish phone recording and then proceeded to fall through my blinds and rip your pants. :)

The Coaches.

So, For those not already aware, My man friend or as I so lovingly refer to him, Mancandy, Is huge. He is 6 foot 5 and has muscles like the Hulk. He is built to pay football. He played 3 years in High School and was incredibly skilled at it and as such, was scouted out and harassed by every head coach in the country as a result. Another great thing about this is that I find football to be the most sexual sport ever devised. Its men in tight shorts trying to slam the crap out of each other, what part of that is not incredibly erotic to you? Ya. Exactly. Any who, This was not a shock to me, only since he's incredibly talented. What did shock me however was the manner in which these middle aged married men approached my prize.

The only way I can describe it is in a fashion similar to how 13 year old boys feel when they ask a 13 year old girl out on a date for the first time. They are impossibly nervous, shower them in unnecessary compliments, and talk as if they are about to ejaculate any second. Not my scene, and probably why I didn't start dating till I was 15. Regardless, This is what these men were doing to my guy, and I found it fascinating. What I additionally found fascinating was that these men developed crushes on these players. I have read many a letter written to Mancandy demanding that he play for so and so, written at various points during the year and often followed with, " CAN'T WAIT TO SEE YOU IN THE FALL!". One card I found in his stack of letter, yes he has hung on to the stack of fan mail, included a stick of Extra gum and a note saying " We'll go the extra mile for you!". At this point, I vomited a little. It had become rapidly apparent that these men were going to continue to be a part of Mancandys life, and thus I was going to have to deal with middle aged coaches falling all over themselves. If this wasn't so oddly erotic to me, I would have been pissed. Also, his perfectly sculpted ass would look delightful in a pair of skin tight shorts, and I could not pass up a chance to stare at that. It would have been just plain not right. Mancandy and I are a team, and you must support your team mates. This is what I had learned in watching 12 straight hours of Friday Night Lights. I love football players, if the reader hasn't already realized that, their retarded.

My most recent brush with these vultures had come a week ago when Mancandy informed me that he has received several phone calls from a recruiter. When I inquired as to what his definition of several meant he informed me it was 3..in a row. At this point, I hope you all see my likeness of these men to 13 year olds with a crush on a reallly hot senior they want to got to the prom with. This was crazy behavior. This is why god invented voicemail. It was my first real interaction with large scale formal sporting situations, and I was a little terrified/excited. At this point I decided not to get ahead of my team mate, and be supportive. I decided to put the beautiful images of him in a uniform on hold and offer my support. I quizzed him on his desire to play again and what the man had said, yada yada yada, all questions I managed to come up with while googling the team who desired him to see what color shorts I could be seeing on his shapely rear. He answered my inquires and told me we could speak about it when I saw him. I did not like this answer but decided any over eagerness I exhibited could come off as a touch nuts, so I kept it to myself. Although quite frankly, the way these men spoke to him should have been more of a worry than my harmless little fetish.

When it finallllly came time to see Mancandy, he had informed me that he had spoken with the recruiter, and he agreed to a meeting with the coach of the team who wished to have him. The head coach for that team then called him 5 minutes later, and left a message. The fact that this man was legit sitting by a phone waiting to hear if my man "liked" him really solidified my feelings about these men being teenage girls. Never the less, seeing as I had acquired an interest with middle aged men fawning over Mancandy and his talent, I decided to do something I rarely engage in - Listen to every freaking word that was being said. Because my boyfriend is a genius, he told me he saved the voicemail's these men had left him. The first guy sounded like he was about to pee his pants. The second, this head coach, really was a special person. In a smokers cough type voice, he informed Mancandy's voicemail that he was A) ELATED that he returned his call, B) Freezing cold from practicing outdoors ( not something I would have shared with a potential recruit, but it was his funeral), And C) Upon ending his conversation used the phrase "OVER AND OUT". At this point I looked at Mancandy with my eyes a-glow and informed him he NEEDED to meet a man who used this type of jargon in every day situations and respond appropriately. Phrases such as 10-4, and Copy that would suffice.

At this juncture, I was sidelined from my original thoughts on Mancandy in tight pant garments and refocused on him being in a situation where I may interact with this individual. I love anyone who uses military type phrases in everyday life, and allows me a chance to use all my beloved quotes from Transformers. I convinced Mancandy he must go through with meeting this individual and at least hear what he had to say.

Then today, I received the text message I have been waiting most of my life for...." well, as it stands you're dating a football player :) "....I cannot even being to describe to you my physiological reaction to this statement. The air left my lungs, and my heart began to race, and I began to see stars. This reaction should have killed me. Thankfully, it did not. Dear 13 year old self with braces and cystic acne, CONGRATULATIONS!!! Finally, My life IS together.

The iPhone Paradox.

So, like most of my ramblings, I feel the need to inform the reader of a few things before they embark on my little literary journey.

1) My sibling has had 4 iPhones in the last 2.5 years.

2) My sibling has broken 4 iPhones in the last 2.5 years.

3) I have had 2 iPhones in the last 2.5 years.

4) I have had one break thanks to my cat Whiteness (that cute face in the paper bag in the photo above).

On this particular occasion, My sibling had smashed the screen of her phone completely while walking to class trying to balance it on her books. (Note :The iPhone is one slippery little thing and has a tendency to fly about when not encased in some sort of protective gear.) My sibling feels that protecting her phone from damage is "un-cool" and refuses to participate in this common cultural phenomenon. On previous trips to retrieve a new phone with my sibling I had made her purchase a case like mine (the best iPhone case ever made) and put it on in front of me so that I could feel confident in her phone ability to go on. She did so, however took it off about a month or so later and broke the phone again. Clearly, her expensive private school education is a complete waste of Popsicles monetary funds because if she hasn't figured out that their breakable by now, she's an idiot.

The next speed-bump in this little adventure was, as always, Popsicles inherently irrational way of trusting my sister not to do anything irresponsible. Additionally, Popsicle sometimes fails to realize how ass backwards his arguments are and refuses to listen to any sane rational individual such as myself. At this juncture, I had explained to Popsicle that my 8Gig iPhone was proving insufficient for my needs. This was an issue I was expecting the previous May when we got iPhones and Popsicle and my sibling explained I wasn't cool enough to need a 16Gig anything and did not have enough of a life to require such adequate space in my device. I told them they were assholes then and did not hesitate to point it out again now.

Me: "Ok Dad, heres the deal, My phone is out of space. My sister, has broken her 4th phone and is requesting a new one. What I suggest you do is get me a new one and give her mine. It's in perfect condition it's just not sufficient for my needs due to all the space the music takes up".

Popsicle" " well then delete some of your songs, there must be some you don't use".

Me: " First of all, they aren't something you "use", its not a pair of shoes. I need them. Thats like me telling you there's too much money in your bank account, get rid of some. Thats stupid".

Popsicle:" You're going to have to find some other way because you can't have a new phone, your phone works fine".

Me: " Are you providing my sibling with a new phone dad?"

Popsicle: " Well yes, she needs a phone hers is broken".

Me: " Wow. Dad. WOW. You do know she's irresponsible and thats why it's broken? Where as I, am highly responsible and am requesting an upgrade for my responsibility. You know, you are teaching her nothing by just giving into the fact that she's a dipshit. She THROWS it Dad! Throws! across a room! I've seen it !! MOM WAS THERE! How does this behavior qualify her for a brand new phone? That illogical dad. Even you have to see how stupid that sounds".

Popsicle: " Well she needs a phone, and it was an accident".

Me: " Dad, accidents aren't foreseeable. A mentally retarded donkey could see that coming. Its stupidity, which is defined as doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, hence this situation".

Popsicle:" Well then save up for one".

Me: " THATS NOT THE POINT DAD!!! Are you honestly telling me that my necessity of a device with larger space is a stupid request based on my past responsible behavior, BUT if I was to go out, be a dumb dumb, take it out of its safe surroundings and throw it around while intoxicated that I would currently be receiving a new phone?"

Popsicle: "while if it was broken beyond repair..."

Me: " OH MY GOD DAD DO ARE YOU HEARING YOURSELF TALK RIGHT NOW???"

Popsicle: "Don't get upset, it's not her fault she had an accident"

Me: " THEN WHO'S AT FAULT HERE DAD? BIG FOOT? CASPER THE FRIENDLY IPHONE DESTROYING GHOST? WHO? I'm sick of having to be responsible for being the bad guy here and explaining to my sister that she doesn't deserve a new phone. You're her parent, PARENT HER! she needs to learn!!!"

[Popsicle is laughing at this point, and I explained that I was done speaking with him while he was obviously high on drugs. I then decided to take parenting matters into my own hands. Somebody had to be an adult.]

The next step of this journey involved my sibling,Platypus, and I going to the apple store - on a weekend. As someone who has enjoyed the luxuries of shopping during the work week when stores were pretty vacant, I was not thrilled about being crammed into the apple store with like 80 other people. I do not do good in large crowed areas, its not my scene. On top of that, I had to deal with my sibling and Platypus who when together not only rent a time share in the same brain, but tend to get on my nerves. Separate from each other I can deal with them pretty well, But together they form this hybrid of themselves and It makes me batty. I cannot have a conversation with one, I have to converse with both, and they often take the exact same opposite stance to whatever I wish to be doing. In this case, I wanted a new phone and I was not about to sit idle while my parents royally screwed the pooch on this venture.

Upon gaining access to a stool in the apple store, I set up my camp while the sibling spoke with the geniuses. She then came back and informed Platypus and I that the cost to repair her phone was the same as getting a new phone. ( I to the day maintain that this was not the case and that she just wanted a new phone, but who am I to argue with Steve Jobs and his methods?)

I started to question Platypus as to why I could not have this new phone and why I was being forced to suffer insufficient data space on my device when I had been nothing but a responsible and upstanding member of the iPhone community. She did not share my passion for my case, a plight I should have suspected due to her lack of ability to separate her thoughts and feelings from those of my sister. I then mentioned that the siblings lack of desire to encase her phone in some sort of protective device was the reason for her many many issues, and demanded once again that Platypus take a stand as a parental figure. She declined, and much like with Popsicle, I was really starting to worry about her mental health status. But never the less, I was on a mission and would have to deal with her health issues at a later date.

I should point out that at this point I was incredibly irate, and overwhelmingly hot and not in any condition to have been in public. Additionally, I was surrounded by a gaggle of confused, overweight people and was not terribly impressed with my surroundings. I often find that when the fat are confused, they resemble mentally unstable children trying to outsmart a child proof pill container - sure its sad and kind of cute, but you really want to just go over in a fit of rage and open it for them. In this case, I was damn near running about trying to convince other store patrons that their issue were unimportant and try to force them to join me in my quest for a new phone. On a scale of one to Mel Gibson, I would say I am strongly against dumb people in aggravating circumstances. I was ready to rip my hair out and not enjoying my time at the apple store. Once again, I tried to engage Platypus in a discussion about the pros and cons of iPhone cases, and Why my sibling was insufficiently equipped for a new phone. She began to laugh and then joined my sibling in yelling at me about how I was a complete pain in the ass and that my sibling would in fact be giving up her new phone in exchange for my current one since I seemed to have felt so strongly on the subject. Apparently, this conclusion was reached ten minutes earlier but I was on a tangent and failed to intake the information at all. I tend to get like that when I happen to be incredibly pissed about my circumstances, I will reject any and all input from others that is not " I agree".

All in all we ended up leaving the apple store shortly after, with me being lectured all the way back to the car as to why I was being an asshole, and how my short comings in the arena of patience would undoubtedly result in my dying alone. ( I reject this conclusion entirely only because in what has been 3 months with Mancandy I had been incredibly patient with him. I maintain this is a result of him being constantly upbeat and having a genius level I.Q., and thus, his shit was together and he was consistently on the same page as myself.) All in all though, I did manage to accomplish my goals due to my persistence and my ability to completely lose my cool in large scale public situations involving confused obese individuals. Despite my mission being successful, I'll be the first to admit that my life is NOT together.

The Bank Incident(s).

SO, heres the skinny.

A while back, Popsicle had decided that he wanted to switch his banking service provider so that it would be "easier" for him to provide me and my sibling with any monetary funds we desired. This was assumed by Popsicle to be the case because it was an "international bank", which gave Popsicle the impression that they had their shit together and could in fact follow through on all the magical things they claimed. Popsicle could not have been more misinformed. Needless to say my experience with this bank has been a disaster. In an attempt not to slander this bank, I shall only inform the reader that is a bank of asian decent. I would also like to point out that the asians, to my knowledge, are not known for their financial prowess,They're known for their cars, technology and sex tourism. NOT BANKING.

When I quizzed Popsicle initially on how this was going to effect me he informed me that he could then put money into an account for me at this bank. When I noted that I did not currently do business with this bank, nor did I have a desire to relocate my funds from their current location he seemed uninterested in abandoning his chosen venture with the asian bank. "It has branches all over the world! I can send you money electronically with online banking! Isn't that great??" was his sentiment. Popsicle has trouble with a DVD player, but now wants to try his and at electronic banking? Give me a fucking break. But as I seem to do, I gave into Popsicles attempts to busy himself with a project, and allowed him to completely turn my life ass backwards. What follows are the events that transpired from Popsicles ill advised plans to involve himself with the asian bank.

ISSUE 1:

Popsicle calls me and instructs me to go down to the local asian bank and speak with his newest advisor. She is employed by the asian bank to assist Popsicles other advisor in his location deal with his money and me in my location. ( Already you're probably thinking this seems a little Enron right? Ya, I'm with you there) Popsicle informed me that she would set up my account, teach me to work it, and then provide me with a debit card. I agreed to go down and entertain this woman and her list of ridiculous demands for information since I really had nothing better to do that day except for lunch with Platypus. So, off I went to the asian bank.

Upon meeting the advisor she informed me that she would be setting up my account and asked me for a long list of information so she could set it up. It then seemed as if there was a problem at every step, but I decided I was going to be a nice person that day and didn't ask why this was such fucking chore for her if this is what she spent all day doing. 2 hours into my 20 minute meeting I was finally issued my debit card and allowed to leave the asian bank. I updated Popsicle on my success and went about my day.

A few days later I received a phone call from Popsicle inquiring about my new card. "Hows the new card working sweetie?" he said with his usually overly chipper demeanor, " well actually Popsicle, you never actually put money in the account so I really couldn't tell you. What I CAN tell you, is that I suggest you get your shit together and get me some money so I can pay my rent on time and not have my water shut off". Popsicle really hates it when I give him direct and specific tasks that need to be completed immediately. I don't know if its the 30 some years he spent as a CEO or the ample spare time he now had that causes him to be annoyed by these things, whatever it is its getting old. "Well , I haven't set it up yet, I was going to go see her tomorrow" was his response, I think the irony in fact he excepted me to use a card with no money on it was lost on him so I let it slide. "Hey, you know, you can do it right now with that nifty online banking you were talking about. Why don't you give it a shot?"..."Well I'm in the middle of a movie...".."Dad, I'm gonna be in the middle of the street if I can't pay my bills on time! Understand? I really thought you had a handle on this?". After much debate with Popsicle, I convinced him to try logging into his online banking. The asian bank had a stupid complex online banking system requiring you to answer several questions and do a damn song and dance to access your money, Frankly, I should have known that Popsicle was up against forces beyond his ken. Upon reaching the website for the asian bank the Popsicle could not remember any of the answers to his security questions. I knew all the answers, but he was not having any of that and told me he did not need my input. The conversation ended with him becoming irate and me receiving no money.

ISSUE 2:

Popsicle informed me he was coming to town and that upon his arrival we would both go down to the asian bank and sort out this whole mess, he also informed me he had my new, official debit card in tow. I was horribly excited about the thought of acquiring funds and wanted to meet with him as soon as possible. However as is typical of Popsicle I had to wait and make an appointment so he could give the illusion he was actually busy. At this point my Visa bill is about 2 weeks from being due and I am starting to become impatient because not paying it on time and in the correct amount makes me feel a bit like a felon and I think that gives me wrinkles.

Popsicle and I went to the bank the next day and then he came to face with his nemesis... online banking. The woman at the bank explained that if he wanted to transfer money to my account on a monthly basis that he would have to set it up via online banking. ( I would like to point out that between our last conversation and now Popsicle had set up his online banking again and received new passwords ect.) now with the bank woman present, he could not recall the answers he had set up twice now. I tried to remain calm and provide him with answers, and then suggested he write them down as I had so that he could fucking recall them. He told me I was being silly, and I told him that he was the one being unreasonable. After about 30 minutes of confusion the bank people managed to set up the transfer. Popsicle then suggested I try my new card to see if it works before we leave the bank. Once again, it did not. They issued me my 3rd card and sent me on my way.

ISSUE 3:

I come home from a week in Hawaii with Popsicle anxious to use my new card. I went to Starbucks for coffee and went to try it out, only to be informed that it had been declined. I was pissed. Not only did I have to put a coffee on a credit card, but It looked like I would need to go back to the asian bank. I called Popsicle and explained I was pissed, " DO you know how much of an asshole I looked like having the card I pulled out of my $300 wallet be declined? do you see how that might be embarrassing for me? Thats not classy Dad. Not at all". He offered minimal condolences and told me to go back to the asian bank. Reluctantly I did so and they offered me yet another card. For those keeping score at home, this was card 4.

ISSUE 4:

It had come time to pay my Visa bill using my account with the asian bank. I had been dreading it with every inch of my being because I knew the asian bank would find a way to make it hard. I typed in my card number as the screen instructed and it told me I did not exist in the system. I tried to remain cool and tried the 3 other card numbers, eventually having the first one be successful. I went to pay the bill when it told me that the function did not exist. I had remembered the woman at the bank telling me it existed so I was confused. I called the hotline on the back of my card only to be told by some prissy voice that my call could not be completed as dialed. I'm a 90's kid, I can work a damn cell phone. I also was fighting a cold while doing this and it had also snowed the day before, (by the way, it was fucking MAY) so I was not steeped about my adventure to the asian bank.

Upon getting to the bank in my neon pink Ugg boots and sweats, I was a hot mess. I made eye contact with the same bank woman who had helped me previously and she motioned me to sit down. She then asked what was wrong. I informed her that at his point I was one irate individual and that because her bank was clearly not organized, I could not pay my Visa bill and it was now late because the payment I thought I had made never went through since my account "doesn't exist", I told her that now they were interfering with my life and it was a fucking problem. She managed to gather a coworker who like most male service staff I interact with ,seemed more intent on hitting on me than he did about solving my problem. I told him to save it and get my fucking bill payed. He could not complete my request and suggested I withdraw the cash and go over to my bank and pay my bill in person. I told him modern technology allowed me not to and he had frankly already caused me enough trouble. I also told him I hate carrying cash because it makes me feel like a prostitute and asked him for his 3rd option. He said he could issue me a bank draft for the amount and I could take it over to them myself, I laughed at this, coughed loudly and told him there was nothing I'd rather do while violently ill.

He then directed me to a very fresh off the boat individual who was suppose to issue my draft. She too told me I did not exist and I told her that by now, her branch should be welllllll aware of my existence. 20 minutes later she located me in her thick asian accent and I went on my way to my bank. I then texted Popsicle to tell him I thought he was a real asshole in choosing this bank and that I wanted him to allow me to liquidate my assets and return to my bank of choice. He told me I was being silly and that it would work out eventually. I told him to save it for someone who had patience left.

The cherry on top occurred when I got to my bank and the teller there called over to the asian bank to verify the transfer. They, once again, told her they had no idea who the fuck I was. ( By the way, its a 5 minute drive between banks, and I made a mild scene while I was there) " I WAS THERE FIVE FREAKING MINUTES AGO!! HOW DO THEY NOT KNOW WHO I AM??? IM THE PERSON WHO'S SHIT THEY CAN'T SEEM TO STRAIGHTEN OUT!!" I cried, I was ready to get in my car and drive into the asian bank at this point. While I was handing over my bank draft to the teller I had explained my problems with this bank, she had her shit together and she understood that I just wanted to go home and sleep. She told me she would sort it out and call me personally when it went through. I thanked her dramatically and left to go back home where someone in my condition belonged.

ISSUE 5:

I finally accessed my money online to learn it was there on my last trip to the asian bank. Now, I wanted to test out card number 4. I went to pick up cookies for Platypus an thought I would give it a go. ... DECLINED. INSUFFICIENT FUNDS. Was the message I received from the debit machine. I was pissed, the was was no way my funds could not pay for $6 worth of cookies. No fucking way. I once again charged them to my credit card and went to lunch with Platypus where I ranted for 30 minutes about how I hated the asian bank and was ready to tear them a new asshole. Platypus thought my troubles regarding Popsicle were hilarious because they weren't happening to her.

I went back once again to the asian bank to retrieve an answer as to why they continue to fuck up my life. I was issued yet another card which does not work. Today, I am going to go down to the asian bank and liquidate my assets to go back to my home bank. I've had enough of Popsicle and his shit for brains bank. This blog was my way of psyching myself up for this little adventure as well as reminding myself why I am doing it, because my life is NOT together.

The Dog, The Bird, and The Broomstick.

As many of you with younger siblings may experience, there is a sort of joy in the family as the last one of you gets ready to decide on a career path and pick a University so they can move far far away from the rest of you and your stupid problems. My sister had reached this crossroads, and as far and I could tell was elated to get on with her life. We were sitting at the kitchen table going through her University guide trying to decide what schools she may want to look at; (By we I mean she was trying to do homework and I was feverishly flipping through page upon page of University statistics with an interest I often only reserve for online shopping). I had decided she wanted to attend a school with a heavy football focus, mostly because I adore football and huge athletic football players. Also, she was interested in education and I was fairly certain one could do that anywhere with ease, much like catching a cold and just about as interesting. While I was enthralled with the magazine my sibling had ventured to some other surroundings and I was left alone at the table to "watch the dogs".

Before I get ahead of myself I want to preface this by informing the reader that Platypus currently has in her possession 3 small wiener dogs, most of which were under the age of one. Being puppies they have a fair amount of useless energy and are bat shit insane. They are fascinated by everyone and everything they come into contact with and it can become rather tiresome for whomever my mother has put in charge of watching them. I often refer to them as "Pussycat" which Platypus fails to understand. I have no explanation for this abnormality other than it suits them and I have no desire to come up with a clever nickname for each individual dog. The smallest one of the bunch as luck would have it, is also the most destructive force nature has ever managed to put into such a small vessel. She is most certainly NOT the small package good things come in. Her sister, or "littermate" as you fruity dog fanatics would say, I had deemed "The Linebacker". The Linebacker is mammoth for what is suppose to be a "miniature" breed. I maintain her rambunctiousness and large stature come from consuming her other siblings in the womb and gaining all their puppy powers. Never the less, she is the most happy wiener dog I had ever interacted with and I love her despite the hostility I know her breed happens to have towards me. The third one is kind of a bit of an emo. He is smaller than both his sisters and is frankly a bit of a suck. He and Platypus have formed a somewhat parasitic relationship since she acquired him a few years ago. I only term it as parasitic at all mostly because they feed off one another and she is required to pick up his poop. Pretty parasitic if you ask me. But, back to the main plot of the story....

It was a surprisingly sunny day for my location, I say surprising only because in living here I have learned that any day you don't wake up to the worst weather of your life it's a damn shocker. I had my back turned to the "kids" as Platypus refers to them, and was deeply involved in reading about Acadia University's championship football team and desperately wanted to get my hands on a roster with full color photos and statistics for my bedroom. Needless to say, I was not providing adequate supervision for the little dogs, and was about to regret my decision.

The sibling had reappeared and was thumping around trying to get her shit together so she could return to school. She came out of the laundry room and was laser focused on my activities at the kitchen table when all the sudden I heard her scream violently. I jerked my head and saw her skidding around something on the floor. Much more interested in the jock meeting potential that lay in front of me, I ignored her cry's for help and went back to the magazine. A chorus of "EWWWWWW GROSSSS!!!" suddenly popped up in the background and I heard Platypus start to freak out. Still in my seat I was completely aloof to what was going on to say the least. I often have these moments with my family where something important is going on and I am either misinformed or have no fucking clue what is happening so I nod and ask open ended questions a lot. My sibling was in such a state of apparent shock that she could not provide me with sufficient answers to what was happening 12 feet from my person. All the sudden Platypus came to the rescue, " OH MY GOD HOW DID A DEAD BIRD GET IN THE HOUSE?! OH MY GOD!! HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN??? YOU LET THEM DRAG A DEAD BIRD INTO THE HOUSE??". Even after being provided with this information, I am so deep in la-la land that I am still confused as to the implications of this little scenario.

I would once again like to pull the reader aside and explain my family's thoughts on me. As far as my family is concerned I am completely fucking useless and don't really have any skills they deem sufficient. I am allegedly ill-equipped to do anything that even remotely resembles manual labor due to my lack of upper body strength, and defs not capable of dealing with any sort of dead animal due to the fact that I have an $80 manicure and a $200 haircut. Apparently because of my desire to maintain a pleasing outward appearance I am completely unqualified to do anything that may be classified as "outdoorsy". I would now like to state that Platypus has both a manicure and an obscenely expensive haircut, both traits for which I decline to judge her seeing as it is her right as a woman to be well groomed. Additionally, I would like to state that despite my family being horrifically misinformed I am in fact capable of doing basic plumbing and repair work, as well as engine diagnostics. However, due to their lack of desire to accept this information and the satisfaction they gain from stereotyping me, I allow them to continue on their train of thought and offer to stay out of any sort of activity with a male centered skill set they may be embarking on.

Now back to my sister and Platypus screaming like a bunch of sorority girls who just saw their first penis. Due to the fact that my delightful reading surroundings had been reduced to a state of utter pandemonium I was forced to get up from my seat and go investigate. Upon viewing the deceased animal I, although actually not terribly concerned, decided to scream as well in an attempt to bond with my kinfolk. We then all gathered in the kitchen to decide a plan of attack. Platypus then informs me that I am to take care of the creature and return it to its natural habitat. " Um, and WHY might I do that Platypus?, you're our mother! Genetics programs you to want to protect us from harm, and in this case, an excellent way to get Bird Flu". At risk of further solidifying my place in the family as the useless priss, I suited up in some rubber gloves and gathered a plastic bag. " GO GET THE TONGS FROM THE FIREPIT!" Platypus instructed me, " WE CAN USE THEM TO SCOOP IT UP". I'm not sure what it was I returned with but it was clearly the WRONG utensil, as Platypus and my sibling proceeded to scream and tell me I was mentally retarded. I have an I.Q of 147, this is defs not a possibility, however this information is lost on my comrades. I came back with a different, and correct, tool and proceeded to psych myself up for battle. I remember recalling the phrase "GET READY TO BRING THE RAIN!!" from Transformers, but I cannot recall now if I said it out loud or not. I like to say it in accompaniment with a sort of "round up the troops" finger twirl whenever a tense situation arises. I find it helps get me in the moment.

I approach the deceased with my weapons and ready Platypus with the plastic bag. Then, I make contact and somehow manage to convince myself that something I had previously believed to be dead had now moved, and was arguably a zombie. I screamed my head off and proceeded to run in panicked circles on the deck in an attempt to calm my nerves. ( It is at this juncture that I notice the roofers who were working on the roof across the way laughing their asses off at our current problem. I bet if they were in a situation where they were afraid for their fucking lives, and a possible death involving bird flu, they would not have been laughing). I eventually find my center and return to the living room where I manage to wrangle the deceased into the bag and instruct Platypus to dispose of the evidence.

Upon ridding the house of the bird, Platypus and my sibling return to the kitchen where I am sitting ready to lecture them on my valiant effort in the face of danger, and proceed to call them pussys. " What is wrong with you? why weren't you watching them?!" inquires my sibling, " Well, Asshole, it hadn't occurred to me in all honesty that they were capable of fetching a bird from the fucking sky and dragging it into the house. Their badger dogs, they hunt on the ground! Read a fucking book sometime". Still jazzed from my brush with death I felt yelling was an excellent way to make my point. "It hit the window dumbass, then the dog dragged it in here!"... " Um...No. Their small dogs reject, they can't carry a bird!" I cried. It was at this exact moment I knew things between the small dog and I were about to change big time. Just as I finish my speech she shows up in the doorway dragging behind her another fucking bird. Needless to say, I was pissed that she would be so inconsiderate as to bring this up during my rant. Platypus flipped out and proceeded to shoo the dog outside and debate what to do with the remaining birds, a plan which at its core was to leave them for my stepfather to deal with. This was what Platypus termed, a " Blue job" and she was over it. At this point, I decided it was time to return home and get in a shower pronto since I reeked of sweat and dead animal and my life was clearly NOT together.

The Individual.

Have you ever encountered someone new and for one reason or another immediately upon seeing their face you think to yourself, " This person is going to be a nightmare?".

(And before you all judge me, don't pretend you don't do this. And if you absolutely insist that you don't, you yourself probably are one of these impossibly annoying individuals.)

I encountered "The individual" last year in my third year of business school. He strolled into my 8am class with his small McDicks coffee and I immediately disliked him, his accent, and his face. First of all, McDicks coffee is diarrhea in a cup, NO THANK-YOU. Secondly, the sound of his voice brought out a rage in me that I normally reserve for the sound of small children who scream on long plane rides. When I reach this state of anxiety, something I try hard to avoid due to my stress issues, I feel a lot like I want to punch a gorilla. I want to do something violent and stupid immediately. However, It was 8am and my 5$ Starbucks had not kicked in yet, so I lacked the motivation to do anything about it.

As time passed, I observed this strange individual in what I consider to be my native habitat, A classroom. I tend to excel at any subject that is taught in english and graded, where as, he appeared not to. I quickly noticed that my peers felt similarly about the individual. One such victim was my unfortunately, married friend. The individual had appeared to have developed a crush on my poor friend. I maintain he chose the married one over myself because whenever the individual was in me presence he spoke as if he was so terrified he was about to wet himself, much like a scared puppy. It was this specific trait that made him utterly unlikeable. He also had a delusional tendency of thinking I was his friend, which frankly made me want to shoot myself in the foot. The individual also smelled like a mexican deli, which was even stranger because he was in no way mexican.

How is this all related? well, if you cool your jets, I'll explain.

Today, I was strolling early into my business class when I reached the hallway and heard a familiar and agitating sound that made my blood boil....I looked up from my phone to see....THE INDIVIDUAL. Honestly, I thought I was having a fucking stroke. Concerned, I started smelling the air to see if I could smell burt toast, in hopes that I was in fact having a stroke and that this was not really happening to me. But alas, it was. He informed me that he was in the class, and noted my absence in the first class. The fact he noted my attendance at all made me want to beat an ostrich with a hammer. I was pissed. Not only did I have to sit thought a mind numbing waste of time about international business and cultural diversity, I had to listen to him speak. ( and yes I realize the irony that I am sitting through a class on tolerating other races and I had a strong desire to beat this guy to death with a wrench. I get it, and I am not amused.)

I started to feverishly text my friends to get some sort of hold on the situation, as if there was anything they could do about my misfortunate situation. They offered their condolences, and my married buddy laughed his ass off. I told him he could laugh all he wanted, he was married, and thus his life sucks. ( I hate marriage. I really think its archaic and pointless unless you plan to reproduce. But thats a totally separate story.)

Upon the arrival of my mentally aloof ex boyfriend to the class, I explained the dire straights we had found ourselves in. He pointed out the irony and I wanted to punch him in the junk. He is a complete asshole and was really quite excited to watch the veins pop out of my neck when my anger was directed at someone other than him. Needless to say, much like my interactions with my small cousin and other mentally unstable people, I popped a mood stabilizer and attempted to chill out. Now writing this, I am a little fuzzy on the rest of the details of class, but at one point the individual noted that he worked for immigration. And frankly, if this is true, the government is in for real trouble. In fact, as a Canadian I feel downright jilted, yet another reason why my life is NOT together.

P.s- On another note, Platypus upon hearing this sent me an LOL and then suggested the most nauseating of all statements, " maybe he's into you, you should ask him out." I told Platypus to go jump off a fucking cliff. I did not need her hating on me. I informed Mancandy of this and he suggested we plan an attack.Then suggested Platypus hated him, I told him she likes him fine, It's clearly ME she hates.

The reason I should really work around more children.

In my ample spare time, I currently volunteer to mentor a 9 year old girl once a week at a local elementary school. She has ADHD and naturally, I am drawn to her. Due to my own plight with this disability, I find it very easy to connect with these children because I understand them, and they understand me. Ironically, these kids get a bad rap from the school system for being out of control and saying outlandish things, all true and probably the reason for my loneliness as a youngster. However, I LOVE these kids to death. Unlike normal children, they do not mean to aggravate the living daylights out of you. Their brains are just wired a little different, and they can't help themselves. So they just say and do silly things which amuses me entirely, unlike normal children who I feel just piss me off because their small and somehow feel they have the right to do so. Wrong. This is why upon any interaction with children I tend to eventually lose my shit and call my sister who ironically, was clearly BORN to interact with kids. Watching her is fascinating to me. She displays a patience with them that I was never afforded in my interactions with her.

An example of my sisters extraordinary gifts was demonstrated on a recent trip to Winnipeg to visit family, part of which includes my small cousin who is approximately 5 or 6 and has a very flat skull. For purposes here I shall refer to him as Flathead. My sister had been off visiting her new boarding school and I was stuck with Flathead all day, an extended period of interaction I was not looking forward to. My expertise is which children between 9-11, 5 year olds do not float my boat. Platypus, thank god, was present this day and was there to help out and suggested we go to the toy store to get Flathead some more Playmobile toys. ( For those unfamiliar with Playmobile, its small, and plastic, and a fucking nightmare. Enough said.)

Upon pursing the isles of toys, I had scouted out some dinosaurs and went off on a tangent to explore that, when I finished I located Platypus and Flathead and their new Playmobile set - A police car. Fuck. I knew my ass would be responsible for putting that shit together and I was not excited. I lack the engineering capabilities of my better half,Mancandy, and was positive I would completely Fuck this up. Upon paying for the toy and getting into the car, Flathead expressed his desire to open his toy and put it together. Platypus seconded this motion, and I felt the need to inform her she was out of her mind.

Platypus: " Come on, just open it for him"

Me: " Mom, it has small parts, and he will lose them, freak out, and there will be a scene."

Platypus: "He won't lose them."

Me: " Mom, he's like 5, trust me, this will end poorly."

Platypus: "Just do it ok?!".

It was at this exact juncture that I knew shit would eventually hit the fan, but I decided to play along with Platypus and her delusional line of thinking.

Me: [while opening the box] " Look here Flathead, Now against my better judgement, Platypus feels this is a good Idea, so I want you to know, that you NEED to look after these parts, because if you lose them you won't be able to put the car together. So, if you drop them, it's your fault, understand?"

Platypus: " that was a bit harsh don't you think?"

Me: " No. I don't frankly, I want it on the record I do not condone this".

Flathead gets his car and we continue our journey to pick up my sister, who I had never been more excited to see in my fucking life. I do not do children. Upon reaching the parking lot of the school, Flathead starts asking a million questions. This, is the SOLE reason I loathe small children. My belief is that they do this, only to be involved in conversation, and not to learn information. So, I popped a mood stabilizer and attempted not to totally lose my shit on the kid.

Flathead: "why are the school busses white?"

Me: " Because Unicorns have wings thats why."

[Flathead looks at me as it he COMPLETELY accepts the answer I just gave him]

Platypus: "wow you're crabby."

Me:" I have a headache and this isn't assisting me. He only asks so you talk to him, not cuz he wants to know."

Platypus:" You know, you really suck with children."

Me: " I know, thats why I'm on the pill."

Now, it is finally time to get my sister. I for one, could not be more fucking stoked to see her. Just as we are sitting in the car, I hear the words I have been waiting to hear...

Flathead: " I lost my wheels."

[I burst out in a hysterical fit of laughter]

Platypus: " What?? You said you would be careful!! I'll come look for it".

[ It is at this point Platypus is sprawled in the back seat of the Jeep looking for the Wheel. I, still laughing, am updating my Facebook status with the current events, and commending myself for being a genius.]

Platypus: " What are you doing? Why don't you help?"

Me: " Frankly mother, you brought this on yourself, and I am getting far too much joy out of watching it unravel."

It is at this point my sister reaches the car. I , elated at her return, inform her of what is happening, while sitting on my proverbial soap box in the front seat, still updating the world as to me genius ways with children. Finally, they find the wheel, and it is affixed to the car. Platypus, giving me a horrible look is displeased. As much as I really do hate to aggravate my mother, she was really being an asshole and needed to learn not to fuck with me when it comes to my expertise on the shortcomings of children.

However, I digress. Back to my 9 year old, who I like to call Macaroni. I had been working with Macaroni for a few months now and we had become quite close. Since I have the emotional maturity of a 10 year old, we were really hitting it off and happened to share many common interests. On this day, Macaroni had asked me if I ever said bad words. Not wanting to be a complete irresponsible asshole, I said yes, but only because I am an adult but I also try to come up with more creative insults and things to say instead. Partly because I'm a lady, but also because my 98th percentile vocabulary allows me to do so at the expense of lesser minds.

Macaroni: " So do you ever say the F word?"

Me: " well, I try not to. It is the trashiest of all the bad words I think, and also I like to take the opportunity to expand my vocabulary".

Macaroni: " So, the other words are ok then?"

Me: " well, no. I try and think of something more creative to say, like " well thats insufficient". See in addition to not lowering myself to my opponents level, I also reveal that I am smarter than them which often makes them feel stupid, so really, I still prove my point".

Macaroni: " Well, thats insufficient".

Me: " exactly!"

[Macaroni then continues to respond to almost everything I say using that phrase. At which point, I am incredibly proud of myself and feel it is time to leave.]

In reviewing these tales, It occurs to me that despite what other carbon based life forms seem to feel, I actually am rather good with children. Macaroni learned a new phrase to substitute for all the inappropriate slang she had learned in her inner city school, and Platypus learned an important lesson about not questioning my methods in child rearing. All in all I would say that It was a very valuable adventure, however my interaction with Platypus solidified my belief that thanks to her, my life is NOT together.

Welcome to my Life.

Hello World.

Thank you for taking the time from your fascinating modern life to read my delightful little blog. You may ask yourself while reading this, what kind of pathetic shut in writes a blog anyhow? And frankly, if thats the position you choose to take I suggest you ask yourself what kind of shut in reads some random college students blog anyhow?

Ya...you.... suddenly, I'm looking a whole lot cooler aren't I?

Anyways, you may now wonder what might motivate me to write this rather mundane low budget disaster in the first place. What an excellent question!

Well, like most people involved in interpersonal relationships with other carbon based life, i often find myself surrounded by people who have a tendency to say and do some pretty stupid things. However, I do not associate with your typical run of the mill assholes. These people, specifically my friends and family, are a complete unmitigated disaster. What makes these individuals such as complete and utter pain in the ass? Well, upon first examination I suppose I happen to come from a fairly normal "modern" family.

My parents have been divorced for 11 years, and split when I was like 9 or 10. I am now 20 and my parents have now finally completed their custody battle, or as I call it, a frivolous attempt to win my love via a seriously unnecessary over-budget legal experience. This may seem fairly mundane, however the bit of information that makes this little experience so typical of my family, is that I moved out 3 years ago to live on my own. Yes, my parents are insane. But more on them later.

My sister, or as I call her, "the reason people think double bagging condoms is a good idea", attends a boarding school in B.C.. She is a nightmare. She's 16 going on 21 and it is not enjoyable. She's what you'd call a hot mess. She also co-owns a share in a brain with my mother, Platypus. The two are incapable of separate thought. Much like tweedledee and tweedledum, different, but the same in a highly agitating way.However despite this, I love her.

[ In the midst of writing this, I received a phone call from Platypus,(aka.my mother). She and my sister conference called me to demand face time with me and my "boyfriend" or as I like to call him, mancandy, while my sister was in town. In the 2.5 months that are our relationship, they have yet to meet him which causes much upset in a family of complete busybodies. Frankly this delay is because I really happen to like him and would like to see where this relationship could go. Platypus then informed me that if she does not meet mancandy in the next week I am not longer allowed to see him. I laughed at this incredibly misinformed Platypus comment, and explained that If they all stopped their nonsensical yelling that I'd see what I could do.

My fear of letting mancandy interact with the fam, or "white circus" as we call ourselves, is that upon meeting them he will no doubt run for the fucking hills. It isn't even so much a fear as a concern that he will see me differently upon realizing that Platypus and my sister are bat shit insane and that I share common DNA with these people. Also, on the off chance Platypus and I happen to be wearing matching outfits that day,which can happen, he could think I belong to some sort of pseudo cult. Not good staying points for a man you hope to keep around for an extended period of time. However, I digress. The main point of this little sideshow is to demonstrate that Platypus is insane.]

The most significant, and my personal favorite in this merry band of "special olympians" is my father, Popsicle. Popsicle was married to Platypus for 10 years until he decided, he liked men. Popsicle in addition to being a homosexual, is also somewhat detached mentally from reality. Having retired fairly young, he now fills his days with vacations, shopping, and other meaningless nonsense. This cavalier attitude to the world around him causes Popsicle to more often than not have his shit be in a state of chaos, and this causing my shit not to be together and me to slam my head against a wall. He also has a tendency to wet himself while wearing white pants in tropical locals. I make it a point to speak with Popsicle every day, mostly because I love him, but also to check that he is still alive. Popsicle has a tendency to stay out late, and drink excessively with his other homosexual friends, who in my opinion have little concern for the fact he happens to be a father. I could go on, but you will all have to trust that this man is a bit of a mess despite being an incredibly savvy businessman.

This, sweet cyberspace, is my shitshow of a family. And if you choose to follow my blog I will inform you of their ongoing antics in an attempt to help make you life seem far more together than mine, because as you can see, My life is NOT together.