Action Figures And DVDs

Well....  Since our kid is still drooling and shitting in diapers, SSL and I have not (as neurotic parents say) "baby-proofed" our place.  I could have a bunch of samurai swords laying around and rest easy knowing that my little monster can't yet reach  them.  While he is still confined to the places that I put him, a world where everything is padlocked and disinfected has not conjured it's way into my brain. 

Recently though, my sister, who has a four year old, came to visit us.  The day before their arrival I cleaned and hid inappropriate shit.  I couldn't imagine what exactly influences the sponge like brain of a four year old, so I put up the normal shit.  All of my vitamin bottles were sealed extra tight and put out of reach in the back of the counter.  My machete and switchblade were placed on top of a shelving unit, thank God, because while I was doing that, I found some of SSL's random DVDs that needed to be put away too.  I was in a hurry to vacuum so I just threw the DVDs in our bedroom.  They landed right on top of a Tupperware container and since I was so amazed that I had such great aim, I guess that I lost my train of thought...

So in walks my family.  We are just hanging out and bullshitting, talking about a bunch of nothing.  My sister's kid, being the precocious, DVD loving four year old, goes through all of my DVDs in the living room.  When that was over, he kind of fiddled around with some action figures that I had laying around.  Just like him though, I'd get bored and search for more treasure.  So he walks into my bedroom and the reflection from the back of a random DVD catches his eye.  Like a magnet, he walks over to the DVD, and as he is flipping it over, I saw and yelled out

"Casey, NOOOOOO!!!!!"

Too late, he sees it, makes a funny face, and (bless his heart) says

"This isn't for me..."

So my sister (his mother), sees my reaction and wonders what the hell he just saw.  She walks over, picks up the DVD, turns it over and sees this:

...Apparently I was so amazed that I landed the DVD on the Tupperware from across the room, that I forgot why I was putting it in my bedroom in the first place... 

                         So much for being aunt of the year.

My Trigger Finger Has Better Things To Do

(He's yelling from downstairs)

"Alexis!"

(Pretend like you don't hear him)

"ALEXIS!"

(Maybe he will think you are gone)

"AAAAALLLLLLEEEEEXXXXXIIIIIISSSSS!!!!!!!!"

(He's running out of energy.  Good.  ...Oh shit.  What's that?  Is that the dog?  It can't be the dog.  We euthanized her last week.  Crap.  It's him.  He's walking up the stairs.  Ok.  Plan B.  Pretend like you are sleeping.  Not light sleep either.  Make it seem like you are in a coma.)


(Knock Knock Knock)

"Alexis?"

(Don't move!)

"Alexis!"

(Stop breathing!  You're giving yourself away!)

"ALEXIS!"

(Great.  Here he comes.)

This is the point when I pretend like I'm awakening from a deep slumber so that I don't make it too obvious that I was pretending.  My eyes are little slits, my voice is muffled and I move at the pace of a zombie.

"...What?...  What do you want?"

And now comes the question.  The question that I've been trying to avoid.  The question that is the beginning of the rest of a horrible day.  In 1...  2...

"Can you take a picture of me?'

The misery.  I don't want to name any names.  For the sake of anonymity let's just call him... "Brad".  So I know this guy named ...Brad.  Brad is nice enough, but is going through a phase right now where he is utilizing one of those lame dating websites.  I just don't understand them.  Why not just get out and meet people?  Dating websites...  Don't even get me started.  Anyhow, for the website, each person that is affiliated with it needs to have a profile picture.  The profile picture being a sweet orderve that tickles the viewer's fancy and gets them amped up for the main entree.  The point of the picture is to use it as bait.  It's supposed to show how loving, outgoing, funny, intelligent, sexy, admired, witty and (most of all) how great you are in the sack.  Based on one picture, people are supposed to judge whether they would talk to you in real life or not.  Whatever. 

My whole contention here is this.  Brad is the WORST person to take a picture of.  Is he ugly?  No.  Actually, he has a pretty symmetrical face and takes nice pictures.  Brad's problem is that he treats everyone like they are professional photographers. 

"How should I look?  Is this a flattering angle?  Does the lighting illuminate my face in an angelic yet saucy fashion?  Should I stick my ass out more?  Girls these days love asses on guys.  How about my outfit?  Should I change it?  Is this good?  Maybe I should put my hand in my pocket.  Oh wait.  I was watching TV yesterday and it said that if your palm is facing out, then it looks like you are a giving and open person.  Now how could I project that in the photo with my heart?" 

I want to shoot myself.  Plain and simple.  The worst part comes after EVERY SINGLE PHOTO.  Brad is one of those people who can't just pose and let someone click away.  He's one of those neurotic bastards who has to see EVERY SINGLE PHOTO right when it's taken.  A process that could easily take less than 5 minutes surpasses an entire hour.  You would think that one would be thrilled with the results, but no.  After every photo-op with Brad, I get the same response.  He claims that he looks terrible and damns the websites that he uses.  He damns the camera, he damns his receding hairline and he damns me for not having a photographer's eye at capturing the essence of his true inner beauty...

"Well can you, Alexis?"

"Huh?  Can I what?"

"Can you take a quick picture of me?"

(Just off me right now)


"...Sure."

Back In Action

So I uhhh...  Apparently...  Ok.  This is only hearsay...  I was in the bathroom at a local bar and while I was taking a dump, I looked to my left and on the bathroom stall it read "Alexis swears too much".  Right in front of my eyes!  What am I saying... That was a lie.  Although I crave nothing more intensely than a stiff drink, I was not at a bar reading that.  (sad face)

I was told that though.  I was told that I swear too much by one of my readers.  And come to think about it, I was also told that by one of my family members.  Just to clear the uhhh... smoke, I swear mostly when I'm in the moment or being too lazy to come up with other words.  Right now I'm feeling a little bit of both, so to prove to them that I don't swear all the time, I'll type a blog without a single curse in it.  Let me clear my schedule.  This is going to take an entire day...

So what really ruffles my feathers that makes me really want to swear?  What recent event could I talk about that is bound to have me agitated?  Ah yes.  This new phone...

Although I'm a spry little beast that should get carded by the cops during school hours for being out and about while looking so doggone young, I have the soul of a 60 year old.  On top of that I have the technological skills of the most primitive person on earth.  I belong in one of those undiscovered villages deep in the jungle.  Capturing and biting the heads off of animals so that I can eat for the day sounds far easier than navigating through a computer.  Forget the computer.  I can't even navigate through this new phone.

Here's a nice little fast fact.  Alexis doesn't like cell phones.  Why are these personal low jacks so important to everyone?  Uggggggh.  I just can't stand them.  Amongst my friends I am known for having the oldest model cell phones in the most mangled conditions.  It takes me forever just to learn how to turn my phone on.  My last little baby made it through two and a half years strong.  When my charger broke though and the representatives at the kiosk informed me that they no longer made my model, I was forced into ...an upgrade.  And that is the point when I said "no thanks".

Having my phone charger break on me was a godsend.  Finally I had a reason to not be in contact with anyone.  Finally I didn't have to answer the "why didn't you answer my call/call me back" questions.  Finally I was free to just live.  It was perfect.  I'll be frank.  For the three days that I was without a phone, I felt like a new person.  My stress level went down, I looked ten years younger and I slept better.  I was over the moon.  SSL though had other plans for me.

I'm having this mind blowing time warp back to when cell phones didn't exist and every block had a pay phone on it when SSL walks into the apartment with a brand new phone for me.  Compared to my  ancient (yet very advanced for me) flip phone, this thing looks like a uhhh remote control for a rocket ship.  What on earth are all these buttons for and how does touch screen work for someone with fat fingers like me?  I don't get it.  The gadget drives me nuts.  While I'm still reminding SSL that the the CIA is getting everyone's finger prints from the touch screens, I long for the three days that I was out of touch.  I don't do technology. 

There.  I did it.  Not a single swear.  Don't call to congratulate me.  My brain is out of commission and my phone is off.  Suckers!

My Own Little Strike...

I refuse to make any more blogs until I figure out this celly.  SSL insists that I use a more up to date telephone and that's fine and all, but I really don't know how to use it.  If I cannot add photos to my blogs, then I will keep my thoughts to myself. 

-A retard with a phone