My poor, poor future family..

So I've been thinking a lot about Pioneer Day lately. 

Yep.
It stemmed from a book I visually inhaled yesterday, Half Broke Horses by Jeannette Walls, I highly recommend it if you, like me, are in love with American lit and secretly wish you grew up on a ranch in some hidden valley in the hills before America was so gay. I mean, come on. John Steinbeck and I could have had some great times together. Unfortunately for me, I was born in Visalia in the 90s, and never learned the necessary survival skills to live that lifestyle...but damned if I won't learn to ride a horse before I die! (If anyone wants in on that, let me know. I'm not above taking lessons with like 4 year old little girls who are better than me.) Moral of the story is, this book made me feel like such a little overprivileged turd. And made me feel like American culture was actually fantastic before it turned to a big steaming pile of shit.

So obviously, the conclusion I came to was that if ever one day in the far distant future I have a child and family, and don't yet live in a tiny secluded valley with a one room schoolhouse and post office/jailhouse, we are going to have Pioneer Days where I deprive them of all things newfangled and fancy-schmancy and make them churn butter and wear bonnets and the like. Ok maybe not that extreme. But probably something equally infuriating to us modern folk. It will definitely involve kerosene lamps and peeing in the backyard.
[In elementary school, our teacher made all the girls wear curlers in our hair for Pioneer Day and we weren't allowed to use any form of electricity or technology for the entire day. I think I cried because of how retarded I looked with those curlers in. I know I cried. And I'd like to think that pioneer women were too busy walking across a continent with covered wagon in tow to worry about curling their hair, so that will officially NOT be involved in my day.]

Anyway, I felt I needed to share this. Don't marry me if you ain't down to churn some butta.
There's me and my future child.
Loadin' up the ol' wheelbarrow.

I'm probably a little crazy.

Goodnight.

Forty Seven: No comment

I guess since I don't really know where to start, I'm just going to dedicate this page to weirdness. Lots of weird times and weird things that went on in my life...for instance, Charlie burying Lauren in a huge pile of balloons and her erupting from them dramatically in a Lauren-esque fashion. I miss the poolhouse days! I do not miss a certain person's remote control Naziism. Just kidding, I do.
Or Charlie, Eric and I running/interpretive dancing/posing in the road wearing big sheets carrying broomsticks and assorted household items.
Or talking shit via hangman about some obese lady who looked like Ursula from the Little Mermaid on our Greyhound bus carrying an umbrella on a dry, hot, sweltering summer day in Southern CA. (It was definitely not a parasol.)
Or talking calculators.
Or pencils with faces!
Or blood cells with heads, arms, and legs!
Blood sells.
Blah blah blah even this post is weird.

Forty Six: Oh yeah, I have a blog

Forgot about that.

Forty Five: robot dee-stroy

My Reek-end

Spent with Christine Anna Nicole Zeeb was the best! As evidenced by...

This drunken mass getting condoms and animal crackers rained down upon them from the balcony.

 This giant bubble overtaking other little bubbles.

This fucking delicious plate of lobster heaven.

This ridiculousness.

Loves it.

It's official.

I despise the dentist's chair. My supposed "check up" today resulted in a 3 hour grueling process of cavity filling. Apparently dentists are not aware that keeping one's mouth wide open for two hours straight is not exactly comfortable..oh yeah, and neither is flossing with a miniature saw blade. Yeah, I saw that Dr. Asian man. Nothing is quite as comforting as seeing an assortment of bloody tools laid out as you exit the room. And to top it all off, I get stuck waiting in a room full of chatty dental assistants talking to me about who knows what, and I can't even smile, let alone speak like a functioning human being because my mouth is too damn numb! Soo they pry think I'm a bitch but hey. It's worn off a bit but my right side is still a no-go. Would you be my friends if I always smiled like this?

Forty Four: I'm tired!

Original coloring by Chelsea Metzler! It's too bad a 20 year old still doesn't know which way the letter L is directed..real shame. And also I'm confused as to how that dinosaurs back legs are situated.

More importantly..

Charles, I know you are going to make me go through every single blog when you get home and probably claim you forgot how to read on your mission so I have to read them out loud to you, so I'll just write this to future Charlie, in the knowledge that future me will be dictating it.

Charles Hatch, I MISSED YOU SO MUCH. If today was still Wednesday, November 3rd 2010, I would probably be sitting in my room looking at the picture on this page wishing we could go walk around on the train tracks and take pictures and maybe do a little painting (well, you would) and talking and laughing and drinking lemon lime Gatorade and all that good stuff. I would also probably be at the point where I'd allow you to use my mouthwash again, even though you bled all over it last time and I haven't used Listerine since. Moral of the story, time needs to go by faster.