Archive | May, 2012

Why I’d Fail (or succeed) in Advertising

31 May

A few days ago a friend of mine, V we’ll call her, from MDA Camp came to me asking for some creative help in making a poster. She too is on the Help Susie Bandwagon and planned to share Susie’s Story with 20,000 nerds in an online community she’s active in. These awesome nerds have been very successful at helping raise funds and awareness for charities in the past. We both were hoping they would decide to aid in Susie’s quest for a new heart. Ultimately she designed this online poster and shared it with her nerdtastic peers!

 

 

As I was brainstorming a properly worded tag-line to go along with V’s Save Ferris idea, I got a bit side-tracked. V knows this is a hazard of working with me creatively and she welcomed my spin on things. Well, she welcomed the spins but she wasn’t going to use them, obviously. I came up with a number of mildly offensive yet wildly hilarious ideas. Most of which would have been upsetting to uptight people (probably the rich ones who could pay for the whole transplant). Some ideas I didn’t share with V because I knew I was completely out of line.

What I did come up with, I believe,  is nice balance of politically incorrectness and funny. I think it will work with the audience I am trying to reach. Ya know, the ones who can laugh? So here you have it! Do me a solid and spread it around please!

 

I was thinking to have V make a few more posters with varying world issues/crisis’ crossed out. And this my readers is why I would fail or succeed in advertising. You’d either love my work, or find it offensive. Either way though… You’d see it and you’d definitely remember it/talk about it (for good or bad reasons, it doesn’t matter in advertising). So I think that’s a win for myself and Team Susie!

Whether or not you choose to share either poster, please take a couple of minutes to read my Post About Susie, and Visit Her Site.

Thank you! And Happy Thursday Everyone!

 

PS – Suggestions for poster ideas are welcome! Please share in the comment box.

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Kreativ Blogger Nomination

30 May

Yesterday a fellow blogger nominated me for the Kreativ Blogger Award. His blog is great and is one of my faves! He deals out entertaining posts in 200 words or less that always provoke a thought or a laugh from me. With 200 words or less I always have time to read his posts in their entirety before B has the chance to interrupt. Bonus! Go check him out at http://the200.wordpress.com/ Thanks Jim for the nomination! Can I nominate you right back again? ūüėČ

When I received this nomination I immediately went to Google to find out all the details about the award. I had no idea it would turn into a 30 minute long Google Treasure Hunt. I ended up all over the place, trying to find the origins of this award. What I discovered was slightly disappointing. After reading many blogs that had been “nominated” and were in turn nominating 7 more blogs for the award (as the rules direct) I quickly realized that this award was in fact, just a nomination for an award that doesn’t truly exist. It felt like the chain letter for a blog award.

At first I felt extremely disappointed. I had gotten so excited about possibly receiving an actual blog award and my hopes were pretty high. And then they came tumbling down after unearthing the illegitimacy of it all. I sat in front of my computer, feeling sad and wishing it had been something more. Then I raised my head and allowed myself to feel proud and absolutely happy about the nomination for the imaginary award that will never be bestowed to anyone.

I decided to let go of the “award” and focus on the fellow blogger who found my blog worthy of a nomination. And he did list my blog 1st out of the 7, so I have crowned myself as his favourite. Jim Maher is an amazing writer who shares his talent with the world in between caring/running/worrying after his 3 sons who are under the age of 5. He’s a super stay-at-home dad, oozing creative writing talent and I feel honored to be recognized by him regardless of the award’s legitimacy. So thank you Jim!

Although this award will never be set on my mantle, (I don’t have a mantle. But if I ever received an award, I would buy one. No, have T make me one. Nah, just buy a house with one probably.) it will be celebrated. Being acknowledged by my peer has felt amazing and I am so thankful to all of my readers who enjoy what I write.

The “rules” for receiving this award nomination are that I share 7 things about myself and then list 7 blogs for nomination of this award as well. So here it goes.

7 Things

  1. I love the smell of rain (in Seattle).
  2. I’d like to backpack across Europe.
  3. I want to publish 3 books before I die.
  4. I have an addiction to Starbucks, Victoria’s Secret and Pad Thai.
  5. Raising my son has been the best (ongoing) experience of my life.
  6. I want to be a professional writer, photographer and chef. (I need to get busy soon)
  7. I look forward to being old and never having to use my “filter”. Old people can say anything they want…

7 Blogs 

  1. The Utah Progressive – Aids in my procrastination and delivers some jaw-dropping news.
  2. 29tolife – She’s taking on her 30’s and sharing the adventure with us!
  3. Shut Up Dad – Seriously, he makes me laugh hysterically and uncontrollably. I love how his mind works.
  4. Tinkerbelle or Laughter is Catching – She understands you have to laugh about life, so she shares her’s.
  5. My Life is a Romantic Comedy – Her life really is a romantic comedy.
  6. Jake’s Blog – Jake is a writer. He’s pursuing publications and life at it’s fullest.
  7. My Twice Baked Potato – Kelly is a mom doing the best she can with her twice-exceptional son. Her site is loaded with personal experiences and advice for parents trying to navigate through the complicated process of parenting a child(ren) with complexities.

And there it is. Thanks everyone for your support and encouragement as I play my hand.

BONUS CONTENT!!!

I told B why I was writing this morning and all about the imaginary award I was nominated for. I asked him if he’d help me make my own award to hang up somewhere and he said, “First we need to take LOTS of pictures. That’s what they (celebrities I assume) do when they win awards.” I asked B if he had any cool awards and he said, “Yeah. Like the Superhero Award, and the Policeman Award. Oh and the Nerf Gun Award.” Apparently, he’s outdone me.

A photo shoot ensued and B directed the whole thing. He shows real promise.

Help me, Help her.

25 May

I’ve been feeling a sense of urgency to write but honestly I have absolutely no idea as to how I should approach this cry for help. Every time I sit down to write I feel overwhelmed with emotions. So many memories race through my mind and all sorts of ways to reach out to you come into my head. I’ve been getting so wrapped up in the words I should use that I’ve actually delayed this post. And this post needs to get out there, like a week ago. I’ve decided to stop thinking and to start typing. This may not be my prettiest or my most cleverly worded post but it is the most heartfelt and sincere.

Here is a little back story before I get to the point of this whole post.

I attended MDA (Muscular Dystrophy Association) Camp through my teen years and had the opportunity to form amazing friendships which are actually more like a family unit. To break it down further, we’re pretty much an underground organization of super heroes, but I am bound by oath to not elaborate. These friends were (and are) a source of community as I struggled through all the crap MD brought me as a child, teen and young adult. They understood my pain, suffering, loss, and every day challenges. They understand the frailty of life, they appreciate each day as if it was their last. Because it could in fact, be their last. They are MY people. And I love them.

Joining this elite group of kids exposed me to many opportunities for growth. We taught each other how to live with pride and how to find happiness in the hand we were dealt. We built each other up throughout the year and looked forward to that one week out of the summer where we came together and didn’t feel handicapped. It was all about us, and having fun. Camp holds a very special place in my heart, as do all the people who attended or volunteered that week.

With all the reward that came with knowing other MD kids it wasn’t apparent to me that this group had a down side. Most MD diagnosis’s come with a life expectancy. At age 15 I was given the number 21. I never put it together that some of my friends, these close friends whom I loved and admired, also had a number placed on them. I was 18 and being healed from the pains of MD when I experienced the heartache and grief that comes with losing a friend. I also felt an extreme amount of guilt. Why was God healing me and not my friends? I felt so guilty that I was pain-free throughout my body, while my friends were getting worse.

The first friend I lost to this disease was a best friend, 7 years ago. Her name is Cassandra and we definitely were a dynamite team. Her wit matched mine, her passion for life was like nothing I had witnessed before and seriously, nothing phased her. She knew her limits and plowed through them whenever possible, she loved adventure just like me. Her and I connected from the day we met, which was my first day ever at MDA Camp. We were bunk mates through the years and inseparable at camp. We continued our friendship through telephone calls, sleepovers and fundraisers. We were a team to be reckoned with! OK, we actually were just sarcastic trouble makers who enjoyed eating all the free pizza…. but we did raise SOME money. I lost Cassandra in 2005 and not many days pass where I don’t think about her. Where I don’t wish that there was a cure for what she had or that God would have healed her too, that I don’t wish I could have made it to her funeral, that I don’t wish I would have returned her phone call sooner. I was two days too late and kept getting her voice mail for a few weeks. It wasn’t unlike her to not check her voice mail, so I didn’t think twice about it. A close friend had to tell me over the phone of her passing. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe. I feel the same sorrow now as I type this. I miss her. I miss her so much.

Soon after I lost Cassandra, I lost another close friend, affectionately nicknamed “Homie”. Homie and I met on my first day of camp as well. He was a “wanna be thug”, as I always told him. He’d wear his bandana and listen to (far too loud) rap music like he knew what was up. But in reality he was the softest, sweetest, most loveable guy I had ever met. We’d hang out when he was in town and I spent the weekend at his house with his family a time or two. I miss him.

Three years ago I lost another close friend, Matt. He was a jokester. He was fun and slightly mischievous. He also loved, no, was obsessed with trucks and race cars. He asked me to my first “Big Boy Dinner” at camp. Every girl wanted to be on the arm of one of the Big Boys (they were the oldest boys at camp, the dinner was always fun and delicious, and we got to dress up!), it was a pretty big deal for us. Whenever I hear the song “Free Fallin” I think of our first dance together, and every dance after then to the same song. Our song. I miss him.

I shared these very personal experiences of loss with you so you can better understand why I am so passionate about the following person. This post isn’t intended to be about loss, it’s about saving a life.

The life of a friend of mine, the life of Susie.

Susie and I met at camp. Since she is 4 years younger than me and in a different cabin, we didn’t have tons of opportunities to hang out. But when we became cabin mates during my final year at camp, I was blessed with the chance to get to know her better. The thing about Susie that stood out to me was her heart. She is kind, compassionate, loving, tender, caring, sympathetic, and sweet. Susie’s heart is what makes her so special!

Last week Susie informed me and all of our friends that she needs a new heart. But in order to get on the transplant list she needs to come up with a huge sum of money to prove she is a worthy candidate. This down payment so to speak will show that she can afford all the costs that come along with receiving a donor heart. For example; relocating closer to the hospital, follow-up treatments, and medications. Currently she has a pacemaker/defibrillator that is keeping her heart from stopping, but this isn’t good enough for the long-term. She needs a new heart to save her life.

I refuse to do nothing when I can do something. I couldn’t save Cassandra, or Homie or Matt. And I know I can’t save Susie all by myself, I need you. I need the readers of my blog. I need the fellow bloggers who enjoy my ramblings and interact with me on a weekly basis. I need the world-wide-web and the people living in it to use all their Social Media Super Powers to get her story out there! I know we can do this together.

Susie’s page can be found here (updated): http://www.giveforward.com/susieslvad¬† (This is her most recent site, to help her with the expenses surrounding her LVAD while she await a transplant.)

I’m not going to beg for money, although I’m not above that in the least. Today all I am asking of you is that you please post the link above to your Facebook page and encourage others to do that same. Or Send it in a mass email to your friends/family/coworkers urging them to read it and forward it on to their friends/family/coworkers. Or Twitter it (Tweet it? Idk, I don’t do Twitter)…please get the word out there as best you can. If you feel moved to donate, then do so. I thank you from the bottom, top and all sides of my heart for whatever action you are able to take.

This world needs people like Susie, and I need Susie in this world. I nearly fall to pieces thinking about mourning the loss of another friend. Please. Help me, help her. Let’s get Susie on the transplant list!

Thank you.

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Coffee Snob

23 May

We went grocery shopping last night. Amongst other staples, I needed coffee ASAP as I was completely out. The brand I usually get is the closest tasting to Starbucks that’s in my price range.¬† It’s not great, but good enough.

 

We made our way to the coffee isle. There was a sale on the Maxwell House brand. It was a whole $10 cheaper than what I usually buy. I hemmed and hawed, grabbed the darkest possible roast of Maxwell House, looked at it intently, put it back. Grabbed my usual, thought about it… Really, $10? How can I not buy Maxwell House? It just seemed so illogical at the time to buy my usual brand when something was so cheap. And it’s not like it was Instant Folgers or Tim Hortons…bleck!

T is looking at me like, “just pick one, it’s coffee”. He doesn’t understand. Every time I drink coffee other than Starbucks, a taste bud dies. Every morning my mouth holds a wake. He’ll never truly comprehend what I have given up in order to marry him….never.

I resolved to get Maxwell House with the idea that if I’m going to settle for sub-par coffee, I might as well save 10 dollars doing so. I hung my head as I walked back to the cart, I felt so defeated inside.

 

This morning arrives. I open the coffee. I am instantly assaulted with a miasma of disappointment. It smells like dirt and misfortune. Second, for a “Rich Dark Roast” it’s the color of terra-cotta. I was half-tempted to make tea and dump out the whole can, but I didn’t. This was about trying something new, and perhaps growing a little. I tried to be optimistic, really, I did try. I hesitantly loaded the grounds into the filter. I felt like I was abusing my poor Bunn. I made enough for 1 cup, and poured it into my favorite cup. I thought the cup may help up the enjoyment factor.

No, no, absolute NO! The first sip killed at least 3 taste buds, the second took out at least 5. Can’t do it, won’t do it, wouldn’t force this on my arch nemesis. OK, maybe I would… but not on anyone else.

I thought maybe if I doubled the amount of grounds it would produce something more palatable. I ran another cup through. No, worse. Oh balls.  How could it be worse?! All it did was enhance the taste of fresh death as it killed 6 more taste buds. I could not subject my mouth to this again. There was no hope for this coffee. No amount of cream or sugar would improve its bouquet or flavor.

I’m certain that if a unicorn appeared, serving me this cup of coffee from a tray it carried on its back, I would still be unable to drink it. (Honestly though, a unicorn would totally serve up something better than Maxwell House. Like magic guava juice or Starbucks with champagne bubbles.)

Down the drain it went along with my opportunity to grow.

 

I tried to settle and be content with my $10 of savings, but I couldn’t. I tried my very hardest to be optimistic but failure screamed down my throat as I swallowed. It burned my stomach lining with the acidity of mediocrity.

At least I can say I tried, and hey, it only cost me 4 bucks….

 

Question Period: Is there anything in your life you have to have?¬† We all have our “things”. Please Share!

The Cleaning Catalyst

18 May

Today I had planned to clean this house like the dirty girl it is… but I have failed miserably. I have cleaned the bathroom top to bottom which was no easy feat, and then took the easy route and tidied the living room.

I got on Skype to procrastinate by talking to my friend Adam.

I asked him to give me his best “Dead Beat Husband” message and yell at me to Clean the kitchen. He did pretty good considering he’s 20 years old and the farthest thing from dead beat or a husband.

Adam:  GOD DAMNIT GET URRR AS IN THE KITCHEN AND GET ME A BEER. AND WHILE YOUR IN THERE CLEAN THE GOD DAMN KITCHEN BEFORE I DONT LET YOU LEAVE THE HOUSE FOR A WEEK!

He tried, but failed. We chatted about my blog a bit and he said he saw the post about “period blood” and was going to skip it… There was a lull in the conversation. I assumed he started playing a video game or trolling around like he does. He messaged me a 5 minutes later with a quote from The “Period” Card. He was laughing.

Then he linked me this http://heyyeyaaeyaaaeyaeyaa.com/ and I instantly loved him more than I did 2 minutes prior. He encouraged me to turn it up really loud and show that kitchen who’s boss!
I’m getting my rubber combat gloves right after this post!

It’s on dishes!¬† It’s on counter tops! It’s on you dirty sticky nasty floor! ITS FREAKING ON!

 

Thanks Adam. It’s friends like you that bring a healthy balance of procrastination conversation and positive motivation to be productive…eventually, into my every day life. ‚̧

Do It Right

18 May

I might be 25 but I can still be a bratty little sister.

November 2011:

My mom is visiting me in Canadaland for 2 weeks. My sister calls on Skype because she is frustrated with her weight loss. (Leah has been dropping the pounds and rocking it! So proud of you Leah!)

Leah: Momma, I’ve plateaued.

Mom: This is totally expected hun. You should change-up your diet and increase your exercise.

Leah: Yeah, I know. But I don’t know what else I can do, diet wise….

They go back and forth brainstorming. My mom continues to encourage Leah, she seems to be unresponsive and set on being pouty. (I’m such a little sister)

While Leah and mom are having this LONG discussion I become a wee-bit bored. I’m sitting across the room from my mom so Leah can not see me. I start mimicking my sister. I’m moving my hands as I imagine Leah is doing, moving my head back and forth while flapping my mouth. Our mom is trying her best to ignore me. She does this quite well but at times she is a bit delayed in responding to Leah. Over time, she begins to crack and starts struggling with her facial expression and forming sentences. SUCCESS! Leah catches on. She knows I am up to something.

Leah: Lacey, what are you doing? (she’s a little annoyed but mostly curious)

I move across the room and stand directly behind the laptop. Leah can hear me, but not see me.

Me: In a very serious voice I say, “Leah, I have an idea to help you conquer this plateau.”

Leah: “Yeah? What is it?”

The look on my moms face… she knows me too well. She knows I’m about to say something dripping of sarcasm and completely insensitive.¬† She knows I can not keep it in my head, it has to be released. Mom is now working on her facial expression. She’s preparing to stay straight-faced after whatever I deliver.

Me: Do it right. (I say this in an obviously sarcastic way with a titch of condescension)

Leah: WHAT!?

Me: (I slow it down real good) Do… It… Right.

Leah: Oh Lacey! (this is the response I get when Leah thinks I am funny, but also rude/annoying/vulgar/or generally inappropriate)

Our mom gives Leah her best “above it all” face to Leah trying her best to not react to what just happens. She totally fails though. She thinks I am hilarious. SUCCESS!

They continue on with other matters concerning Leah. Next up for discussion was what she should do with her hair. Color, Cut, Style… I take the opportunity to pester once more.

Me: Oooo! I know! This would be awesome! I don’t think you’ve ever done this before….

Leah and my mom are interested in my amazing light bulb.

Leah: What Lace? What ya thinking?

Me: How bout’ you do it right.

Leah hollers at me and my mom once again is trying to keep composed. Leah insists I show myself on Skype. I deny her this blessing. It’s way too much fun not being seen. She doesn’t see these things coming and it’s way too entertaining for me!

I got a few more “Do it right’s” in there before they FINALLY wrapped up their conversation. As they were saying goodbye she shouted, “Bye Butthead!” I replied “DO IT RIGHT! AND GOOD NIGHT!”

She cursed at me but I wasn’t quite sure what she said. I was however sure that she cursed with a smile, and that my readers, was a great example of “Doing It Right”.

This recount of me saying “Do it Right” was playful and completely in jest. I love my sister and I did (between being a sarcastic brat) offer up real ideas and solutions to her dilemmas that evening.

 

 

BUT¬† there have been so many instances where I encountered an absolute moron. It takes “filter overdrive” to prevent myself from blurting out in utter annoyance, “Do it right!”

I want to design a “Do It Right” ticket/citation of sorts. There would be boxes I can check next to moronic behaviour, or things that I generally see people doing wrong. There would be space on the back for specific write-ups with pointers, books, or other materials that could aid them. At the bottom it would have big letters reading DO IT RIGHT with my number to call if they need assistance figuring it out.

The “Period” Card

17 May

As you may know, I usually write fictional stories to go along with my cards. I use the stories to help you understand how or when you might play the card at hand. Some times my stories are extremely relatable, at other times I make them a bit over the top. Either way, I hope to bring you entertainment.

Well today I am giving you a little treat (or making you very uncomfortable). I’m sharing the story of when I was dealt The “Period” Card. With no embellishment, no exaggerating… Just a complete recount of the first time this card was placed in my unprepared hand. If menstruation grosses you out and you do not enjoy period humour, I suggest you read a different card. Like the “I’m in Love” Card. That’s a good, safe one.

Excitement was bubbling out of me. I had been anticipating this day for weeks! My sister, Dad and I were packing for a youth retreat to Stehekin, WA. All of my best friends would be coming, and my crush would be there too! (A guy 4 years older than me and totally out of my league of course) We were going to be carpooling from Omak, Washington to the small town of Chelan, taking a 3 hour ferry ride across Lake Chelan to Stehekin, and hiking a few miles to our campsite.

I had worked up this trip to be the highlight of my summer! And boy was it… But not because I had the best time of my life. Not because my crush forgot about our age difference, confessed his love for me and kissed me under the blanket of stars. No, definitely NOT what happened. *sigh* I ended up avoiding him the whole time…

The initial leg of the youth retreat went amazingly. The ferry was fun, the hike was challenging for me but a couple of the guys took turns carrying my pack. We arrived a couple of hours later and set up camp. We started exploring and having fun like teenagers do in the woods. All of the chaperones were trying their hardest to keep track of us and keep everyone entertained and happy. That night we had a campfire and enjoyed the must-have camping treat, s’mores! Everyone went to bed. I was tenting with my bff and we stayed up giggling and drifted off excited for the next day.

The next day was super fun as well. We went on hiking excursions, played games, had a small bible study in the evening as well as my first snipe hunting excursion, enjoyed a bonfire and more s’mores, as well as singing around the fire. It was great! It was becoming all that I had hoped for. Sleep came to me quickly and peacefully.

When I woke up in the morning, something was wrong. My stomach was in knots and I felt so sweaty. I was wet all over. I could have sworn I had come down with some sort of forest disease. I unzip my sleeping bag to find that it wasn’t sweat all over me, it was (yep!) blood. *Freak out*

After I had thoroughly freaked out with my bff I realized what had begun during the night. Aunt Flow wanted to come camping too. Rude. Besides the utter panic I was feeling, I was so angry! I had been toting around a “just in case” army of feminine hygiene products for months. I knew it could happen soon and I wanted to be prepared. In all of the excitement to go on this trip, I had totally forgotten about my front-line tampons and reinforcement pads. Why oh why, dear God!?!

I needed my Mom but my sister would have to do. The bff brought Leah back to the tent and then got lost because I was looking all sorts of scary, like right out of Carrie. It was everywhere. EVERYWHERE.

Leah was more than helpful and thoughtful. Although this was one of my most horrifying embarrassing memories, it’s also one of my best memories to when it comes to Leah being the sister I needed. Leah went into Tampon and Pad scavenger mode. She was knocking on every tent with a girl in it and pleading for a donation.

2 girls and 1 chaperone had a stash. Out of which I was given 3 pads and a light days O.B. First off, seriously? SERIOUSLY? We have 2 1/2 more days here and I get a days worth of protection. My very close, nearly best,¬† friend had the biggest hoard of pads. A whole caboodle full, not exaggerating! She gave me 2. Really? For shame. I am half tempted to write her real name so I can get a freaking public apology! …. (Contemplating. Weighing Pros, Cons? Yep, doing it.) BETHANY! 13 years have passed since that dreaded day but I still remember. I love you always Beff. But I still remember…

Leah brought me back what she had scrounged up along with a wet soapy wash cloth. She took all my blood drenched clothes and sleeping bag as I attempted to clean myself in the frigid cold of the early morning. I emerged from the tent to see my sister washing my clothes and sleeping bag in the river. I went to join her and luckily we finished before people started waking up.

We decided my dad needed to know. I was going to run out of bleeding vagina supplies rather quickly at the rate I was going, and the nearest store was a 5 mile hike away. Leah goes over to my dad and discreetly leans in and with a hushed voice says, “Dad, I need to take Lacey to the store.” Now this is funny because when Leah received her period card, my mom said the same thing to my dad.

FLASHBACK 6 years:
My mom to my dad “Larry, I need to take Leah to the store. We’ll be right back.” My dad who was wrapped up in my sister being grounded at the time, was adamant my sister COULD NOT go to the store with my mom. “She is grounded, she’s not going anywhere!” Our mom, who was trying to save my sister from unneeded embarrassment as we had several family members and friends over, kept repeating, “No Larry, I need to take LEAH to the STORE!” As if that was code. A code he obviously wasn’t catching on to. I believe all the women in the room understood and started urging my dad to let her go. Finally, because of his denseness, it was blurted out by our Papa, “She got her period, Larry!” My dad was so confused. Leah was 10!

FLASH FORWARD, or FLASHBACK again? Umm…That’s confusing.

Dad: Why on earth would you need to go to a store? It’s 5 miles away…” (He starts walking towards the group of chaperones)

Leah: Umm Dad, no, I NEED to take LACEY to the STORE. (Giving him a look that says, HELLO REMEMBER, “THE STORE”)

Dad: Leah, I can’t think of a single reason Lacey would need to go to the store. I’m pretty sure it can wait or she can ask around. (Annoyed)

Leah: DAD, Lacey needs to go to the Store. THE STORE, Dad… (Leah’s face is screaming PERIOD! EMERGENCY! THINK!)

Dad: *Light bulb* Oh….. OH! (He walks over to me)
He gives me an awkward hug and steps back before talking to me. He looks at me, realizing his little girl is now a woman. That’s right, I am. A freaking horrified woman. I am wondering why I had been anticipating this day for months? I am wishing so hard that I wasn’t a woman.

He asks if any of the girls had anything, we go over the Kotex Scandal. (talking about you, Bethany) He seems a bit shocked no one wanted to come to my rescue and says we’ll head into town if need be. I go about the day, trying to have fun despite the horrendous cramps and my frustration with a particular friend. (Bethany, that’s you again)
I run out of pads and it’s nearing time for bed. Leah walks me to the outhouse, I take the flashlight in with me. I’m in the dimly lit outhouse, which smells bad enough to start working my gag reflex, unwrapping an O.B.

Me: Slightly panicked but mostly confused, “How do I work this thing?!”

Leah: “Grab hold of it, and with your longest finger push it up inside you.”

Me: “Ew, I have to touch inside?”

Leah: “Duh.”

Me: “…..oops.”

Leah:”What oops?”

Me: “Nothing….” (I had dropped it on the floor of the outhouse. I inspect it with the flash light while straddling the toilet. Blowing on it to get all the funkies off.)

Me: “Oh balls!”

Leah: “You OK in there?”

Me: “Yeah, fine.” (No, not at all)

Leah: “Do you want me to do it for you?” (she was serious)

Me: “What!? Weirdo. No way. You can’t be serious….”

Leah: “Push it up really far.”

Me: “Have you seen my fingers?”

Leah: “I’ll do it for you. I have long fingers.”

Me: “No assistance needed, please. Really. (moments pass)

Me: “It feels weird.” (I walk out wiggling, like its going to improve vaginal comfort)

Leah: “Um, what?” (Leah is looking at me wiggle…)

 

I come outside, completely flustered and a bit bothered. I feel she was a bit too eager to help. I shrug. We start walking. I’m walking weird and it’s obvious.

Leah: “What’s wrong with you?”

Me: “I think it’s coming out, I can feel it.”

We head back to the outhouse. Leah gives me words of encouragement, I hold my breath. I try again, this time a woman chaperone is coaching me as well. Still not up enough but it will have to do. (O.B.’s suck and to this day I can’t use them. Apparently I still have short fingers and honestly, it’s nasty.)We make our way back.

My dad is tying our food up in a tree to keep it away from bears as we approach the site.

Me: “Dad, there aren’t bears around here, are there?”

Dad: “Yeah. They have been getting into the trash around the campground so we’re all suppose to tie up our food.”

Leah: “Bears can smell blood from miles away.”¬† (Thanks Leah)

The following morning a repeat Carrie scene happens. Wash, rinse, repeat. My friend J lends me jeans as I’ve ruined all my pants. Thanks J, I know YOU had my back. (Bethany? ūüėõ )

So it was our final full day and I had run out of clogging material. Toilet paper was my last-ditch effort to save myself from embarrassment and J’s pants. But, I’m a bleeder everyone and that just wasn’t going to suffice. Apparently my body was set on making me anemic. My dad and I set off to the store, 5 miles away. Which meant everyone was asking why we were leaving. And everyone found out about my period card. I was so embarrassed.

It started to rain 5 minutes into the walk. SERIOUSLY? I have a wad of toilet paper shoved in my underwear, barely doing the job, and now it’s going to rain. Wait for it… I mean freaking pour. My dad put a poncho over me and my backpack. Not a normal one though, one he made from a trash bag. Thanks dad…

An hour had passed and we came upon a small diner in the middle of no where. I was grateful for the restroom. Maybe they would have one of those machines with tampons and pads! No, they didn’t. We took a little break, I shove more toilet paper up my cooter and we prepare to start walking again. My dad though, being a thinker, decides to ask for a ride to town and offers a couple of people gas money. They all say no. My dad asks one more person who had just got into their truck. An older guy in a pickup with a teenage boy in the front with him. (A TEENAGE BOY? A CUTE ONE! Oh no…please no.) The man was hesitant but my dad was desperate. I see him lean in and overhear, “My daughter got her first period while camping with our youth group. We’ve been hiking for over an hour and I really need to get her to a store. Please.” The guys look back out the window at me. I’m looking obviously distraught, drenched from the rain, with a face as red as cherries from embarrassment. He agrees. We hop into the back of his pickup, and get to the store rather quickly. What a godsend!

After paying an outrageous sum for the tampons and pads, we discovered public showers and I washed the Carrie remnants off me completely!  I felt so much better. We got a campsite in town for the night and waited around the next day for the rest of the youth group to make their way in.

And that, my readers, is the story of when I added The “Period” Card to my womanly hand.

Usage Guidelines: Use to excuse moody behaviour, weight gain/puffiness, laziness, missing work/school/prior commitments, and skipping gym class. Honestly, if you’re on your period and you don’t want to do something this card is the ticket! No one argues with you about its legitimacy, especially men. In fact, the mere mention of your period can make people stay away from you. SCORE! It’s good for something after all.

Expiration: When you are no longer on your period. However, 2 weeks before you can play The “Period” Card you are eligible to use The “PMS” Card. Which excuses irrational behaviour, weight gain and general bitchiness. When The “Period” Card is discarded, you become eligible for The “Menopause” Card. Congratulations Old Ladies.

Question PERIOD: Did you have a horrifying experience upon being dealt your period card? Do you take full advantage of this card or do you keep it hidden and tough it out? Or perhaps you use The “I’m sick but not really sick” Card instead? Share with me! I like to know how my ladies play their cards!

My Fat Crotch Vexation

15 May

Exercise has always been a challenge for me. It’s been a constant balancing act trying to exercise my body enough to lose fat, and stop just short before losing muscle mass. I also have to maintain a fairly high in protein diet and I’ll be honest, I don’t always choose lean protein. Ok, so I’ve been known to demolish a whole package of Hormel Pepperoni in a matter of minutes. I also have a love/hate relationship with summer sausage. I know those protein choices are wrong, but oh man, they taste so good.

That being said, I take 25% credit for my crotch fat dilemma. 50% goes to muscle issues, 25% goes to pregnancy body debauchery,  and the last 25% to my own poor choices in diet.

I am getting better at food choices but it’s so difficult to maintain a constant healthy diet when T is buying pie, chips, and “Oh Henry!” chocolate bars. I mean, come on! Here I am trying to eat tons of fruit and veggies, and exclude all the garbage and he comes around with pie…. I love pie.

I’m writing this post because I was confronted with the magnitude of a particular quandary. Yesterday was so nice that B and I wanted to play outside all day. As the day advanced, it got hotter and I needed to strip down. I put on my swimsuit from last year. I checked myself in the mirror and although I am not “happy” with my body, I also wasn’t ashamed. I went outside to read and catch some sun while B splashed around. I plopped down on the edge of the deck, grabbing my book and finding a comfortable position. I looked down and started adjusting my bottoms when I noticed….

Whaaaaaaaaaaaa?!?!?!

So I know I put a little weight on after B was born but I don’t remember my crotch looking so puffy. What in the world? It looked like I had stashed a codpiece under my swimsuit. I poked the layer of fat several times as to tell it, “Hey! Where did you come from? Get out of here! You’re not welcome!” I’m sitting there, staring at my fat crotch contemplating how long it had been like that. How could I not have noticed this? I mean, I have a close relationship with my parts and I would think that of all people I would notice this. It was like that time I dyed my hair a new color and my husband didn’t say anything.

All of a sudden I was hyper-crotch-conscious. I had to get out of my swimsuit right then. I was worried my neighbor lady  would stop by and notice the crotch elephant sun bathing in my back yard. I needed to dress my crotch in baggy clothing. I finally understand why people who are weight-conscious wear over-sized clothing. I get it. I needed to minimize its presence. I put on shorts with a loose terry cloth fabric.

The shorts minimized the crotch avoirdupois but created another problem. My dimpled butt cheeks were hanging out.

Whaaaaaaaaaa?!?!

Those fit last year. They were shorty shorts, but no cheeks hung out. I was so bummed. I have more work cut out for me than I thought I did. It’s such a challenge for me to maintain a proper balanced diet of what my body physically needs, and exercise that does not deplete muscle mass. I felt so defeated and frustrated.

That all being said, I have decided to not put off exercising and to start with what I have. Which is a set of 2 pound hand weights and a Wii fitness game called “Your Shape” with Jenny McCarthy. Google says I have to work out my whole body to decrease crotch fat. So, time to get moving.

Question Period: Do you have a fat crotch? I know I can’t be alone in this conundrum. If you do in fact have a fat crotch or shorts-evading dimpled butt cheeks, I feel ya. But not in the perverted way… I barely know you.

My Geeky Gaming Flag

14 May

The geek in me is out of the bag, and I have a flag. So, lets talk about gaming. (If gaming in general bores you, just skip this post. I won’t be offended, it’s not for everyone…)

Enters Super Nintendo.

My relationship with gaming started pretty young when our family was given a Super Nintendo and a whole gaggle of games. My brother and I would spend hours playing (when allowed). My favorites were Paperboy, Street Fighter, Mortal Kombat (FINISH HIM! My cousin T did that voice perfectly) and Super Mario. Honestly those games were awesome and with each hand-me-down console we received, the more in love I fell with games. Every kid I knew enjoyed playing video games but for me, it was a nice escape from my every day physical pain.

Enters Nintendo 64 and Game Boy.

As I got older the consoles got even more awesome and there was a Game Boy I coveted but never owned. For a while I was obsessed with playing Zelda on N64. A friend of the family had an N64 and any time I had the opportunity to go to his house, I was there. I was in front of their TV playing Zelda as soon as possible. He was 4 years older than me and more than willing to sit beside me and coach me along the way. Soon I was the master of Zelda, many thanks to Big B for all the pointers and patience! I also mastered Goldeneye 007 with the help of my brother and his endless access to cheat codes.

Enters the age of Xbox and PlayStation (all models).

Once Xbox and PlayStation hit their heyday gaming reached a new level of awesome. My brother and I and all of our friends would sit in front of the big screen, playing everything from Tony Hawk to Halo. Halo was my kryptonite though. To this day I fail in a huge way. I have a hard time keeping my gun pointed at the target, and not in the air… It’s a coordination thing I never took the time to overcome and I hope some day to conquer this gaming-hiccup. Tons of fun was had playing Xbox and PlayStation in my teens.

Enters Wii and PC games.

I had a love affair with the Wii and to this day enjoy a couple of games. Currently most of my Wii playing is centered around my son’s love affair with Super Hero Squad. I’m not gonna lie though, I enjoy it too and so does T. It’s such an awesome game! Anyways,¬† around the age of 19 I started exploring PC games.

Enters the MMORPG (name withheld for upcoming post).

Let’s just say I thoroughly enjoyed a particular fantasy-based game that opened up a whole different world of gaming for me. Simultaneously I started to expand my interest of reading into the fantasy genre and attempted to watch Lord of the Rings. For some reason, I could never stay awake through all the walking… Do not fear though, I finally watched all three movies in 2009 when I had the swine flu with T. I played that MMORPG for several years and made some great friends on there too. But all things come to an end, and luckily the days of the MMORPG are over. I was seriously addicted to the game. The detox from it was ugly. But I pulled through and have vowed to never return. I still longed for the fun of an RPG though…

Enters Dungeons and Dragons.

My hubby has been playing D&D for years and while we were dating he introduced me to the game. I was so excited to finally give it a go. I had heard of D&D when I was a teen but never personally knew anyone who played. But now, I had the opportunity to find out what exactly it was all about. I came to the game table with an open mind and released the image of teen boys gathered in a dark basement, wearing wizard robes and talking in an other worldly language. It ended up being grown men, in a living room, speaking an other worldly language. I was a little disappointed though. I wanted a wizard robe.

The guys were welcoming and made me feel comfortable to role-play. The first character I created was Chloe Starflower. She is a Wood Elf Druid, with an animal companion named Hawkles. The guys loathe my hawks name and he quickly became the target of jokes and death threats. I believe their malice is based on jealousy beings¬† Hawkles often out damages them… Or maybe they just really despise the name. Either way, it makes for some good banter. Here is a picture of what I imagine Chloe to look like. (I searched to find the original artist by going to the link in the corner. It seems that’s a porn site…¬† I’ll update if I find the artist, giving proper credit.)


I loved the session so much that I requested to join most of the quests T was in. D&D has been our weekly entertainment and both T and I love it. It’s more personal than online gaming as you get to be with real life people/friends. Human interaction is irreplaceable people! Here’s a look at my characters and photo credit given when known.

Fiona Moondance. Currently a level 4 Fighter with +4 lvl adjustment for being a Shade. She is an Assimar (of celestial blood) and is one of my favorite characters when it comes to her back story. The quest itself is also very uniquely written and intriguing. We have an awesome and talented DM who writes most of the quests/storylines which is a vital part of having an enjoyable session. Here is a picture of me landing a rare roll, 20!

It was a rare roll for me, so I captured it!

Arijana Novachek. She is a 5th level Witch. She is of good nature but definitely pushes the boundaries in the group. She likes to vomit spiders to gross out her adventuring companions, and is in constant conflict with her nature-loving “sister”.¬† She has fox familiar named Fawkes (I’m good at animal naming). Here is an excerpt from my character¬† questionnaire sheet describing her.”Arijana Novachek is 5’7, 140 pounds, and 18 years old. She has blue eyes and long, curly dark red hair which she usually wears up in a crazy-like bun-mess. (She’s known to use small bones of fallen foes to tie her hair up in knots, and always wears the ribbon Krask (T’s character who is a Gnoll) gave her somewhere in her crazy hair). She usually can be seen wearing a very worn black floor length traveler’s cloak, knee-high traveler‚Äôs boots, dark tights, with a long torn/ragged skirt and a corset top/shirt. Some may find her dress provocative, she just finds it comfortable and functional. Around her waist she wears a potion belt and on her hip is a morning star.

A current-day example would be that she resembles Amy Lee of Evanescence.

With red hair and D&D related clothing of course.

Then there is my Shield Dwarf, Hilda, who goes by the name “Midge”. She’s a bit different from the standard dwarf as she’s quite personable and a wizard. Some of the guys think that my dwarf is blasphemous beings she’s a wizard. But our DM doesn’t mind. He thinks she’s great. So they can all blow it elsewhere. ūüėČ She is a Thunder Twin and destined for greatness! My sister-in-law plays my twin and we have fun role-playing. Currently she is level 5.

Photo credit to the awesome Eva Widermann. http://www.eva-widermann.de/

I play a peasant girl in a unique quest ran by our good friend C. The quest takes place in a different world than Faerun where the rest of my characters reside. We have a lot of fun in this group and everyone does a fantastic job capturing the personality of their characters. Meet Suzy Mills. She is a level 4 Oracle. Every time danger comes around, she becomes clumsy and unable to perceive anything… It makes for interesting role-playing.

Photo Credit to Tonny-chan of Deviant Art

And lastly, my most recently developed character. Her name is Zooey Fuller, she is Changeling and a level 1 Inquisitor. This quest takes place in the world of Eberron and it’s also very different. We literally just started this quest last Friday with our good friends C&A so I don’t have a lot of character development yet. But I can say it was one of the most enjoyable sessions I’ve ever had role-playing wise. T DMed for us and wrote a great storyline. He felt that it was one of the best times he’s had as a DM. Zooey’s true form is a little creepy, but her usual form is that of a 14-year-old girl, with brown hair and deep green eyes. She’s 5’0, 100 pounds and passionate about justice being served by any means. And how she serves it is up to her own discretion…

Unable to find photo credit.

So that was a long post about gaming. At first I wasn’t going to write it because it’s not a subject that most people relate to, but on the off-chance that I have gaming readers, I put it out there. This blog is about all things “Lacey” and gaming is definitely Lacey. Over several years my love of gaming has evolved and through games I’ve met some amazing people. The memories made and the time spent with friends, are irreplaceable! I like to Geek it up in a couple of ways, and playing D&D is by far my favorite!

Have a great Monday everyone, and happy gaming! Or not. Whatever you like.

Question Period: Do you enjoy gaming or anything deemed Geeky? Do you hide these things, or are you out and proud like myself? It seems some people love their geeky ways, others are ashamed to share. What kind of Geek are you? Please share, and let me know of anything cool that I should try out!

Sausage Condoms. What?!

10 May

This morning started off just like every morning. B woke up with T around 7am. They went downstairs to snuggle and wake up. They usually watch some sort of super hero movie or cartoon, this morning it was Spiderman. I packed up lunch for T. We said our goodbyes and received lots of kisses. He then took the trash to the curb and left for work. Pretty basic morning routine for us.

It was time for B and I to eat breakfast and since I was in the mood for sausage and eggs….

Me- “Bug, do you want sausage and eggs for breakfast?”
B yells back- “No! I want marshmallows, hotdogs and cheese. Warmed up in the microwave please!”
I leave the kitchen in order to tell him in person- “Dude, you’re gross.”
B replies very seriously- “No, I’m hungry for what I like.”

(B is nearly 4 but he has the quick wit I started exhibiting at the age of 8)

B was disappointed when I denied the warmed-up marshmallows, hotdog and cheese dish. I told him, “You’ll live.” He shrugged saying, “I know Momma, but I won’t be happy about it.” “What if I made you that for lunch?” “Ok that sounds like a deal. But I won’t smile about it.” He then went back to watching Spiderman.

I opened the sausage package and read the instructions. I found it odd that they came with cooking instructions. Don’t you just cook them over medium heat, turning to brown them? Anywho, the instructions told me to place them in a skillet, cook over medium heat, adding 1/3 cup water to the pan. Cover and steam them for 10 minutes or until reaching 170 degrees.

I’ve never steamed sausage before. But since I had never cooked this brand, I did as I read.

  1. They turned out a really weird fleshy grey color that was NOT appealing to look at it.
  2. They seemed to have water and air trapped under the casing.
  3. They felt a little slimy.

Something was wrong with these sausages. When I took them off the heat, they “deflated” and the watery juice came out. They now looked like ripply-pruned skin that’s been in water for far too long. Or a very old person’s hand? Take your pick. After cooling a bit more the skin still looked old but tight. Like overly moisturized old lady hands. (I’m aware “moisturized” is not a word. It’s going to bother me all day.)

I brought the sausage out to the living room to see if B would notice how weird they looked. He didn’t. He took a bite. He paused while chewing and says, “Mom, these taste like pancakes and feel weird in my mouth.” He looked intently at the sausage on the plate in front of him while chewing and said, “The sausage is peeling. I think you did something wrong. Fix them please.” I agreed. I couldn’t eat them like that either.

I took them into the kitchen to do sausage surgery.

All I could think of while doing this was “Sausage Condom”.

I peeled off 8 sausage condoms and created my own little pile of sausage sheaths.

I wasn’t quite sure if I could eat the sausages now, but, I was pretty hungry. So I resolved to forget the whole experience and feast on some post peeled sausages. I brought them back out.

B inspected them and gave me his smile of approval. He took a bite and was pretty happy.

A couple bites in B calls out. “Mom? Can you come here?” I enter the room. He’s holding his fork in the air with a piece of sausage that’s been dipped in ketchup.

He says, “This sausage is like a Zombie. It just keeps peeling.” There is a small piece of skin hanging off of the sausage. B begins to cackle in his maniacal way and continues talking about the sausage. He is totally mocking me too. I can tell. He thinks I am a sausage cooking failure. “If the Hulk saw this sausage he’d say HULK SMASH! And Thor would shoot it with lightning from his hammer.” “B, I’m pretty sure the Avengers wouldn’t concern themselves with my sausauge. I bet Ironman would eat it.” B pauses and for a second I think he may agree with me. No, he doesn’t. “I’m pretty sure Ironman would shoot it with his arc light.” Nice B, nice. “Will you get this skin off for me? Please.” I do. He eats it all then looks to me and says, “Thanks mom. I hope lunch is better…” (I’m sure it will be. How can I mess up marshmallows, hotdogs and cheese?)

I peeled off sausage condoms for that little boy of mine and he gives me heck all through breakfast.

I hope everyone has a great start to their morning and no one ever has to encounter sausage condoms…

So disturbing.

UPDATE: B’s lunch WAS a success. Picture proof.