And We Were Eating Chocolate Chip Teddy Grahams

Guy: I f**king hate Christians.

Stephie: Eep. Where did that come from?

Guy: From always. They’re so f&%king annoying.

Stephie: They’re not all bad.

Guy: No… no they are. They really pissed me off today. Ugh.

Stephie: What did they do?

Guy: They handed me this, like, pamphlet about heaven.

Stephie: Did they single you out or just like, hand one to everybody?

Guy: They were just handing them out but… god! Why can’t they leave people alone? They just stand there and talk in my face.

Stephie: (I laugh for 5 minutes at the phrase “talk in my face”)

Guy: (holds up pamphlet) I mean, what is this shit?

Stephie: Screw them for inviting you to heaven!

Guy: Yeah well, it’s none of their business! Maybe I’m already goin’! They don’t know! They just look at me and assume stuff. And, and they all stereotype people who aren’t religious.

Stephie: They all do that?

Guy: Yeah.

Stephie: Man, I hate how they all stereotype people.

Guy: I KNOW, right?

Stephie: Yeah, I hate how they ALL… all of them lump everybody together.

Obviously, I have trouble keeping my mouth shut when I’m around religious people, and I’m quick to stick up for anybody. It’s a lot tougher to do that when I’m around the non-religious folk, and they forget that I used to teach Sunday School and I still pray every day, and they say some vile horrible shit that I didn’t type and I feel like they’re talking about me. I get why Guy would say those things, but sometimes I feel like I’m undercover, no matter who I’m with.

I spent eighteen years in a “holy roller” church, and five and a half years at arguably the most liberal college in Missouri. And the thing that amazes me more than anything else is that you all act and sound exactly alike when it comes to dealing with each other. I wish there was a way to show everyone what they have in common.

I don’t listen to people who e-mail me Bible verses, and I don’t listen to people who think they’re so GD special because they read The Economist. I listen to people who understand that it’s okay to read The Bible and The Economist and Left Behind and Harry Potter and whatever else you want, so long as you top it off with The Onion.

*The name has been changed to protect Pandy, who requested that I write about this right after I finished writing this. It’s worth noting that we were snuggling on the couch wearing bunny slippers and watching “Return from Witch Mountain” during this conversation.

Can’t You Dig The Sunshine?*

“I’ve decided that since I’m probably never getting married, I’ll just be that friend everyone needs, you know? When my friends break up with whoever or get fired or divorced and shit, they can come live with me. I’ll bake them cookies. We’ll get drunk. Then they’ll like, get better and the next friend can move in.”

“… You want to be Bonnie Hunt?”

– Me and Josh, discussing the future

~~~*~~~

I’m really, really happy right now. I love my place. I love the whole set-up – the look, the sounds, the smell… everything. I like cooking and sleeping and showering right next to windows and sunshine. I like the space and the colors and the area. I like going for walks and riding my bike. I still kind of want a boyfriend, but I have enough wonderful friends to make up for that. I like when my friends come over. I like the walks and the drives to go see them.

I’m just digging my surroundings, is all. This weekend I appreciated it more than usual – to the point where I didn’t want to stop. I was up until 3 or 4 every night, just wandering around and loving life. This is probably the best thing you can expect to hear from someone who, a month ago, basically hated everything.

However, this is probably the worst thing you could hear from an insomniac. Man, even my bed is having that effect on me. It’s so damn comfortable, I don’t want to fall asleep and miss it. I just curl up on it next to the window and read 2 or 3 magazines at a time, hugging the pillows and squishing my toes into the egg crate for hours.

That cat who lives downstairs follows us upstairs every time she sees us. Jason and I are both allergic, but we let her in because she’s awesome and she seems to like our place. Hell, even my Chia head is digging the new pad. He’s blooming twice as much as he was last time, and I didn’t do anything differently.

~~~*~~~

I finally met Rachael’s son Isaac. He’s beautiful and he has a mohawk. And he’s hysterical… definitely one of the most expressive babies I’ve ever seen. He just sits there making faces and noises, and they all make sense in some weird wonderful way. Him and Ra will just sit there and stare at each other for the longest time. I’ve often wondered what it would feel like to be a stay-at-home mom… just hanging out with a baby 24/7. I’m starting to understand why it wouldn’t be boring at all.

Isaac’s “poop face” had Rachael and I crying laughing for a good ten minutes. I often use “crying laughing” as a hyperbole, but when I’m with Rachael that actually happens. Our faces get bright red and we can’t talk and tears just pour out cuz we can’t stop cracking up. That’s probably why she’s been my friend the longest. I’m really glad she’s in town.

~~~*~~~

I’ll wrap this up with another me ‘n Josh conversation:

Stephie: Last week, the North Star was so big… it was HUGE!! It was so pretty and twinkly, and I ended up staring at it the whole way home. I dragged Jason outside and showed it to him when I got back.

Josh: I think you’re wrong.

Stephie: About what? The star?

Josh: Yeah. You weren’t looking at the star… it was looking at you.

Stephie: Ooohhh… nice.

Josh: You like that?

Stephie: That was good.

Josh: See? I can throw around the saccharine if need be.

Stephie: That is going in the books, my friend.

*If you know where this line is from, then you rock so, so hard.

Happiness Is

This Guy On My Couch:

Man, you have no idea how much I’ve missed this guy. The other day, Darren called Kevin “a National Treasure”, which is the truest thing ever uttered on AIM. Welcome home, Kevin.

Being Communicatory with Mike

Music Mike and I don’t talk anymore. We just send pictures of ourselves conveying whatever mood we’re in. It gets to be pretty goofy, especially around bedtime:

We are silly. I like whatever we’ve got going on.

Twin Peaks Club

RØB and Courtney (of Pancake Productions fame) are simply the coolest. They have begun hosting a Twin Peaks Club and we had the first meeting on Sunday. In addition to the Twin Peaks pilot, the evening included Tater Tots! Exotic Candy! Artsy Conversationing! And Making Fun of Bobby! I love it. Plus it gives me an excuse to drive through the Loop once a week, which I can’t get enough of.

My New Route to Jen and Ron’s

Someday I will have to get a video camera and tape this walk… you would not believe how charming and adorable it is. I pass by the Train Station, the custard stand, Farmer’s Market, a gazebo in the middle of the road, The Unitarian Church where I kissed Peter in the broom closet, and then I spend a good 30-40 minutes walking past all of these colorful ginormous mansions that look like dollhouses.

When I ride my bike on that route, I feel like I’m in a Jessica Tandy movie. Do you know what I mean? Come over and ride with me. You’ll know what I mean. Late at night, it feels like Six Flags right before they close. I still pass by the Shawn Hornbeck apartment (which has a “For Rent” sign out front if anyone is interested), but the rest of the new route is precious.

Lime Green Cotton Chinese Mary Janes

It’s like I’m barefoot, but cuter! Ten years ago, I bought a pair of cotton Chinese Mary Janes from Delia’s, and they are still wearable. I needed smaller ones, though, so I found this site and bought like six pairs. I only get the soft cotton ones, though – the rest are a little butt. Up next: hot pink ones to match my bike!

Laughs on the Landing

Lately, going to Laughs on the Landing feels like going to a friend’s house. I’ve met so many super fun people through Josh and Mikey, and a lot of them perform there so I always run into at least a few people I know. Mikey featured this last weekend and he absolutely killed. I laughed until it hurt. I sat with a big fun group of people including this guy, and it was a blast. We were all really proud of Mikey.

My YouTube Boyfriends

New clips from Pointe South and Two Rude Dudes are like, the highlight of my internet life:

Bookends

Vonnegut died. I don’t really want to talk about it.

One day during freshman year of high school, I skipped class and hid in the library. I stumbled across “Welcome to the Monkey House”, curled up in a corner against the brick wall under the stairs, and read the whole thing. It made me want to be a writer.

I cried when I heard that he died. I cried for a long time. Then I came into work and saw his picture on my bulletin board. He’s smirking.

“Maturity is a bitter disappointment for which no remedy exists, unless laughter can be said to remedy anything.”

– Kurt Vonnegut, 1922- ____.

That’s what it says underneath his picture, and that’s what I’ve looked at every day for two years and felt for ten more, and today I had to fill in the blank and then I cried again.

If you read this blog and you like it, thank Vonnegut. Also: every time I have ever written “also:” in a blog (which is every blog), it’s because I read it in “Slapstick” once and it cracked me up, and now it’s a habit.

I’ll miss you, Mr. Vonnegut. But I’ll see you tonight on my nightstand, and I can do that forever if I want to. I think that’s nice nice, very nice.

Secrets Really Are No Fun

And secrets secrets hurt someone, et cetera et cetera.

But honestly, sometime secrets are best to be kept to yourself. Sometimes they’re more trouble than they’re worth. Sometimes if you can’t say something nice, you shouldn’t say anything at all. There are a lot of bad things that can happen when you share a secret, and a lot of reasons why some of them need to be kept:

– People will think you’re making it up.
– You’re not really that mad about it, even though you know you should be.
– It will make people sad.
– It will change the way they think about someone forever.
– It will change the way they think about you forever.
– It’s a fine line between something huge and nothing at all.
– It’s a fine line between crying wolf and crying foul.
– You never know when someone’s lying or when they’re telling the truth.
– Basically anyone you tell will blow it out of proportion.
– It might result in violence.
– It might result in lies about you.
– No one will understand why you forgive or why you did nothing, or both.
– You’ll look weak.
– You’ll look like a bitch.
– You’ll look like a liar.
– You’ll look like a drama queen.
– It makes you admit things to yourself that you didn’t want to believe.
– It makes you reevaluate everything that made you feel safe.
– It makes you reexamine everyone that you love.
– It’s probably your fault anyway, you big dope.
– It’s kind of… awkward? Gross?
– Whatever it is, it’s heavy. It hurts to hear.
– Again, it’s just sad. A big efffing bummer that you should keep to yourself.
– It sounds a million times worse than it actually is, even though it feels so much worse in your heart.

Sometimes you keep a secret for one of those reasons.
Sometimes you keep it for every single one of those reasons.

You can’t tell. You can’t tell anyone ever, but it’s the one thing that you NEED to tell someone. Maybe you’ll figure out who that person is someday.

I suppose the best thing I can do is write about why I can’t do anything else. And despite the weight of this stuff and the pessimistic way I’ve been feeling for a while, I truly truly can see a few good things that will come out of it all.

It’s made me see things I needed to change. And maybe, just maybe, if he sees himself in this then he’ll change things about himself. And he needs to remember, and he needs to know that I know. That’s all.

I am super fine and I don’t want anyone to worry. I just needed to get something out there, because while I respect other people’s secrets, I don’t have that many of my own. They eat away at me like a bad grudge. I like to share the happy ones and hash out the rest. I honestly don’t know what to even think about it. So I’m just thinking out loud.

Maybe the “someone” that the secret hurts is the person who has to keep it. It sucks that they have to exist at all.

There will definitely be a happy blog tomorrow. Because I really am happy and this year is still awesome, and for the first time in a long time, I’m looking forward to tomorrow.

(This is not about my new roommate, for the record. He kicks ass.)

TSGoC and the Mikes

Okay, here’s the happy blog that I promised yesterday.

Things have been going well… I’ve been riding my bike and hanging out with lots of people. Last night Mike and I saw Disturbia, which was wicked awesome. Is it wrong that I have the hots for Shia LaBeouf?

This weekend should be pretty cool. Friday night I think I’m going to that art show at the Way Out Club with Nate, and Saturday night Mikey is doing stand-up at Laughs on the Landing if anyone wants to go with me.

I realize I just mentioned two Mikes in the same entry… which makes me realize how many guys named Mike I actually know. Here’s an index:

Karaoke Mike (formerly known as Myspace Mike)
Music Mike (of Harmony Band, among other musical projects)
Comedy Mike (Manker, a comedic genius)
Science Mike (still scares the crap out of me – I always act like an idiot around him)
Moons-Me Mike (my former next-door neighbor)

The other day, someone asked me if I had a boyfriend named Mike because “you sure hang out with him a lot”. So no, I don’t. He’s split into five separate but equally awesome Mikes – like Voltron. I’ll try to do a better job of differentiating between them from now on.

~~~*~~~

I’m having fun with the various Mikes, but you know who I miss the mostest? The Secretary General of Cool.

I’ve analyzed this before, and I’ve decided that the main reasons I love him are because (a) he’s always been honest with me, whether I like it or not, and (b) he’s without a doubt the most interesting person I’ve ever met and he’s chockfull of stories.

I’ve tried to list all of the insane facets of his life before, and people usually think that I’m making it up. My friend at work calls him my “imaginary boyfriend”. But here’s just a few examples for you:

1. He’s lived all over the world, from China to Italy to Michigan.
2. He’s saved someone’s life more than once.
3. He was on “Romper Room”.
4. He does card tricks like David Blaine (though I think TSGoC uses real magic).
5. He speaks 4 languages, but he knows snippets of several more.
6. He once blew up a kitchen and flew out of a second story window.
7. His first home was on a tulip farm in Amsterdam.
8. He was accepted to that Naval Academy that only accepts like 50 guys a year.
9. He’s taller than Abraham Lincoln and he looks exactly like Captain America.
10. He has a gun license and he knows how to Roller Disco.

See? See how much he rocks in just ten sentences or less?

One night right before we went to sleep, he told me some other ridiculous story, and I started teasing him.

“People always think I’m lying.” he said, looking a bit bummed. “But I mean, no one’s around to vouch for me. They’re all in Thailand and Holland and shit.”

“I don’t think you’re lying at all,” I told him. “It’s just… it’s hilarious. Next thing you know, you’re going to tell me you saved a baby from a fire or something.”

“(muttering)”

“What?”

“It was drowning.”

“WHAT?”

“Back in Virginia… I saw a baby floating in a pool and I jumped in and pulled him out.”

“Okay, now I think you’re lying. Shut up. You did not.”

“No, I did. I have a certificate from the mayor.”

“The MAYOR GAVE YOU –“

“Yeah, everyone freaked out about it. They threw like a thing for me. It was weird. I don’t want to talk about it.”

~~~*~~~

My most very favorite thing to do is ask TSGoC, “What have you been up to?”

“Oh, I’m DJing in Chicago.”

or

“I fed a banana to a baby hippopotamus.”

or

“I’m going to this concert in England.”

or

“I’m going to the beach from The Beach!”

or my personal favorite:

“I’m in Michigan. Hey, can I call you back? I’m gutting a deer.”

~~~*~~~

I called him the other day to ask him about my cactus… his roommate collects them, so TSGoC is basically surrounded by cacti at all times. Of course. Of course he is. My Grandma randomly gives me a cactus, and of course, the only cacti expert I know of lives with TSGoC.

I asked him what he had been up to, and he paused before answering, “Nothing! Haaa! How crazy is that?” He sounded genuinely shocked.

I like that he has a moment to settle down and relax, even though it’s not here. I told him that (a) I’m happy for him, but (b) I‘m mad jealous of his new city. I miss that big weirdo. Hopefully I’ll get to see him soon.

~~~*~~~

Oh, there has been one deterrent to The Year of Awesome: hills. I forgot how much it hurts to ride your bike up a hill. Ow. Ow ow ow. You’d think I’d remember something like that.

Also, I have an awesomely funny story to tell about Easter but I can’t write about it here, so ask me later.

Everything’s Coming Up Cacti

Yeah, I haven’t been writing much lately. I’ve been super busy and I haven’t had much time to have fun. However, the little free time I have right now has been lovely. Here’s what I’ve been wrapped up in:

Auricular Therapy

It’s been almost 2 months since I quit smoking, and for the most part it’s been great. Given that I smoked for 12 years, I’m still shocked at how well it worked. This has made me a believer. I will preach the miracle of auricular therapy until proven otherwise.

This week, I went back to get my ear shocked for insomnia. I started asking the guy a million questions about the process, and as he was explaining the different nerve endings in the ear, he gave me a little “sample shock” of each nerve. I feel flippin’ incredible right now. I almost feel like a different person. I think I’m addicted to auricular therapy now. I want to start a cult about it. We can build a stonehenge of giant foam ears. Or something.

Kirkwood

So I locked myself out of my apartment yesterday. The door automatically locked behind me as I was getting the mail and I was stranded without my keys or my cell phone. My roommate wasn’t coming home for a while and I didn’t have a phone, so I did what any resourceful girl would do: I started walking.

Honestly, I was kind of regretting not moving to the city but I’m back to loving Kirkwood. I walked to three friend’s houses in less than an hour. A stranger offered me his phone. A hot guy at the health food store offered to drive me to Jen and Ron’s. People here are so lovely and the walks are almost always fun. I’m glad I stayed here.

Oh, and I realized that I need to start memorizing phone numbers… stat. I was absolutely helpless without my cell phone. I had to call Tony’s parents to get his cell, and then I called Tony to get my roommate’s number. If I met you after high school, I have no clue what your number is – even if we talk every day. So sad.

Grandmas

The very same day that my grandma gave me a cactus, Mort posted this. I like to think of it as Pointe South on drugs:

Covers

Mike and I had a conversation a couple of months ago about the moment you realize that you like something… it can surprise you. It’s almost like a window inside of yourself. Well, I’ve discovered that I love covers of songs. I always liked them, but I’ve come to realize that they make me really happy.

My current favorite is Nico’s “These Days”, covered by Mates of State. Other favorites include Karen O’s cover of Bjork’s “Hyperballad”and anything by Nouvelle Vaugue. I’ve been seeking out other cool covers, so feel free to comment with some of your favorites.

Life

I quit taking those pills. They didn’t fix what they were supposed to fix – all they did was make me want to cry 24/7 and blog about hating life. I seriously cried every day that I took them. I was talking to Jen the other day and I just started tearing up out of nowhere. I had to stop and explain, “Sometimes? They just fall out for no reason.”

I really can’t handle living like that anymore. So this time around, I quit. I think it’s working because Laverne died on Scrubs and it was super sad and I didn’t cry. Things are on the up and up. Thank god.

This American Life

I’ve been listening to This American Life on NPR forever. If you’ve never listened to TAL, here’s a good description from their Web site:

These are stories about a character or characters who are thrown into situations that shed light on something larger. The stories are constructed as a series of scenes or anecdotes (unlike most radio reporting). Often the characters change over the course of the story. Sometimes the entire story involves a writer or reporter (or character) going into situations to try to figure out the answer to some question.

Jason somehow hooked us up with free Showtime… the same week that This American Life started airing their new TV show! I was skeptical at first, but it’s just as compelling and it’s absolutely beautiful (especially on our sexy HDTV). Watch. Learn. Love:

Bikes

When you drive into my apartment complex, there’s a big hill. If you drive into my complex after school lets out, there’s usually this kid riding his bike up and down the hill. Up and down, up and down… he does this all day, like that kid on the escalator in Mallrats. Chances are, you will almost hit him. We all do.

I get really pissed off at that kid (again, just like Mallrats), but today I finally dug my pink bike out and got a tune-up, and now I understand. I really want to go outside and ride my bike up and down that hill all night.

Mike is coming over later to watch Harry Potter so I had to go get candy, and I got to RIDE MY BIKE TO 7-11 TO GET CANDY and it was seriously the most awesome thing I’ve one thusfar in The Year of Awesome.