Just My Luck

Who would have thought somebodies day could get any worse then having somebody try to stab you with a handful of pens, threaten your life, and call you every swear word in the book? Well mine did. Take all those things and add a flat tire to the mix. It makes escape impossible. Poor Ol' Betsy. I can't even write about it because thinking about all my past flats makes me saddened. More of this story may or may not emerge at a later date in time.

It's More Fun Then Doing It Alone

Weekend? - Success.

I've never really taken a fancy to my middle name of Susanne (sorry mama and papa kunk) and recently I've been debating changing it to something a little more fitting.. Some of them include, but are not limited to: Clumsy, Accident Prone, Klutz, Walking Disaster, Uncoordinated, or Butterfingered. These are all fitting, but I prefer to stick to something that really hits the nail on the head - B.A (Bad Ass). There are a few different reasons why I think I should change my middle name to BA and here is a recap of the weekend to provide in detail (with pictures) exactly what I'm talking about. . . .

#3. I am planning an adventure that involves getting my motorcycle license and a long expedition. More details will come as the kinks get worked out, but I have taken the first step and am signed up for the motorcycle education class in order to get my license.

#2. The skydiving trip is underway - I have a couple of takers so I will be coordinating the jump for sometime early September (LoHo, I'm waiting for you). If your interested let me know.

And the #1 reason I should be named BA. Saturday I went riding with a few guys. . . Didn't see that garbage can right behind me and fell into/on it. It left me with a sore tush and a burnt leg from the exhaust on the bike. Ouch. Tomorrow is Dr. Day, and here are some photos for proof (sorry for mooning the camera - cover the kiddies eyes)

Peeping Tom

I can clearly recall my first year at the University of Illinois. I, however, was able to skip the embarrassment of carrying an orange bag around the quad that screamed FRESHMAN ALERT (thanks Maggie & Sara for the heads up). For those of you who went to the U of I, you know exactly what I'm talking about. If you don't believe me then watch this video (Thanks Megan), which will give you some insight on...

"How To Spot A Freshman"

Back to the topic at hand. . . I, like many other youngsters, did some undergraduate major surfing during my first few years, and I don't mean the kind where your riding the waves (although that would be fun). It started with Special Education and ended with Human Development & Family Studies, with a few things in between.

One class that sticks out distinctly in my memory is Introduction to Educational Technology. I can recall on the first day of class my face turning a shade that could have given any tomato a run for it's money. We were discussing webcams and I of course had one because I was pretty savy (or so I like to think) when it came to technology. Keep it mind this was several years ago before they came built into just about every laptop. Naturally I was asked how I use the webcam and when I responded with "to talk to my boyfriend", apparently there were some sick individuals in the room whose minds began to wander. Needless to say, I was at the bunt of the joke.

Anyways, throughout the course of this class we experimented with different types of technology and practiced using all sorts of programs. Overall, it was a good experience UNTIL we were required to start a blog. I sware I complained every day that I was FORCED to post something. It was sooo boring because we had to post responses to specific questions. It was the worst part of the entire class and I hated having to post what somebody else wanted me to and then knowing that everybody could read it. THIS IS STUPID I would say day in and day out.

Skipping ahead 4 years . . . Here I am! Blogging away. The difference? I can post silly things, whatever I'm thinking, and nobody is putting a letter grade on my overgrown thoughts.

There is only 1 thing that makes me feel a little awkward and yet slightly intrigued at the same time. I have 9 followers at this point, and in my head those are the only people who read this. . . Then I will hear a comment or catch wind that somebody outside the 9 have read a story I posted or saw a picture of my crabs . . . (crab rangoon that is). . . I almost feel as if a peeping tom is peering through my blinds at night (aka into my head) and reading all my private thoughts. I'm not asking you to leave comments on my thoughts (although your more then welcome too) or even become a follower (although you can), I'm just wondering if any other bloggers have this strange feeling and if they are slightly excited by it like I am??

Rock, Paper, Sissors

Call me old fashioned, conventional, traditional, conservative, or just plain old cheap, but what girl WANTS to pay for dinner? I don't care if i'm having dinner with my parents, boyfriend, sibling, friend, or stranger - why would I want to pay for dinner? I don't! Plain and simple, I work hard for my money and the more of it I can hoard away, the better - right?

Well. . . . to settle this little dispute, one of my besties and I decided to "Rock Paper Sissor" it in order to determine who buys dinner. So far, 2:0 (I'm up!). Honestly, I can read him like a book, I almost feel as if I'm cheating it's so easy. But. . . Until he thinks of a better way to settle who pays for dinner, we shall keep up our charades all while entertaining the staff.

Cruising.

I'm the type of girl who enjoys a good cruise. If you've been lucky enough to go for a cruise in Ol' Betsy then you'll know that I love to put on a good pair of hippie shades, an oversized hat, roll the windows down, and turn the radio up. Some of you may not be fortunate enough to know what cruising is all about *cough* laura *cough*, and if thats the case then stop reading now because you have officially lost all respect from me.

Unfortunately, Ol' Betsy may not last through too many more cruising seasons, which is why I am taking a serious look at some more updated cruisers. Cast your vote.

"Say Cheese"

"Going Green"

"Pump It Up"

"Slow Movin"

Shel Silverstein

Shel Silverstein was and very well may still be my favorite poet of all times. Although I must admit for the first half of my life I thought he was a female. -Opps.

growing up is hard to do

Growing up I never had my own room; I shared 2 bathrooms that had no locks with 11 other people; Thursday was my day of the week to sit in the front seat; I always got my sisters hand me downs; no photo studio would take our family picture; and we were constantly having family meetings that was guaranteed somebody would cry at.

In college I shared my room with a random stranger; another roommate would leave the light on while I attempted to fall asleep; tried to stay sleeping while my roomies 2 or 3alarms went off before she finally hit snooze and it repeated 3 more times; dealt with the underwear tree; washed dishes that I didn't dirty; and cried on my roommates shoulder at 3 in the morning (while smoking swisher sweets) about a stupid guy.

Now it has been exactly 150 days since I have been living alone. When I come home my apartment is exactly the way I left it, nobody elses mess to clean up, and I can turn the music up as loud as I want. I thought it would be wonderful. . .

Until I actually moved in on January 23rd 2010. It was worse then I could ever have imagined. It was so quiet I could hear the crickets creek and it isn't much fun cleaning up alcohol bottles when you finished it alone the night before (just kidding about that part). In fact, I think I can say I cried more times the first 3 months I lived here then I had in the past 3 years combined.

Slowly I am getting used to this whole living alone thing. I've learned its OK to watch movies by yourself or dance around in your underwear without a partner (hehe). And it is nice being able to sing as loud as you want in the shower without anybody judging your "really pretty voice". Today I danced in the rain and even shot some hoops without being embarassed to be out there doing it by myself (which I would have been a year ago).

I never thought I would say it, but I can honestly say I miss the days of sharing the bathroom with a younger brother who doesn't know how to screw the cap back on the toothpaste and the mornings that your roommates would crawl into your bed just to discuss the events from the night before.

After having the experience of eating diner alone at my kitchen table, I am confident I will be more appreciative and easy going with any roommates I have in the future.

Cousins Wedding

Here is a video of the wedding party dancing to Cotton Eye Joe at my cousins wedding. The video doesn't give it justice, but you can get the jist. Best dance at a wedding I've seen - Hands Down. All the guys in the video are my cousins (except 1 groomsman). . . I'm bragging.

" You guys might not know this, but I consider myself a bit of a loner. I tend to think of myself as a one man wolf pack"

Orange

For those of you who knows what this means - "I'm An Orange". Enough Said.
This website gives a glance into my next adventure. If your interested in embarking with me then let me know. http://skydivechicago1.reachlocal.net/

The Wiggles

For Father's Day I went to my parents house for a BBQ. My older sisters and their husbands and children were there, as too were my younger siblings, parents, and grandparents. The weather turned out beautiful and I was disappointed that I hadn't brought my swimsuit so I could go for a dip. The kiddos were running around, babies crying - typical day at the family household. Not that I'm anywhere near ready for screaming babies of my own, but I did begin to think for a brief moment (about 10 seconds) what I would or would not let my children do. The #1 thing on the list of things that will be FORBIDDEN was watching The Wiggles, and here's why . . . .

It's Thursday Night.

This Is My Knee.

That's A Bottle Of Moose.

I'm Bored.

Am I Alone In Doing This?

Road Rage

If you have ever had the pleasure of being a passenger in Ol' Betsy (my car) then you will know that I get easily angered by bad, idiotic, and careless drivers. Do I have the best driver record? Absolutely not. In fact I once got so many speeding tickets I had to go to court not once, but twice. Luckily I knew the right people and they were able to overlook my little "situation". By the way, thanks mom for holding my hand while I walked into the court house.

Lets take a moment to recap on my driving record. . .
1.) Speeding (45 in a 30). "Accidentally" dropped a bunch of tampons out of the glove box and received a verbal warning.

2.) Speeding (40 in a 30). Told the officer that I was lost and had never been to the town before. Secretly I had been to the town weekly to visit my boyfriend. Received a verbal warning and he escorted me to my destination thinking I was truly lost. Nice Guy!

3.) Speeding (35 in a 30). This was a state police officer. He was a total jerk. I was actually parked at the video store, out of the car, and had my hand on the door to go inside when he turned his lights on. He threatened me with a speeding ticket or seat belt ticket. I took the seatbelt ticket
($75) even though I honestly had my seat belt on. Who pulls somebody over for 5mph over?

4.) Speeding (85 in a 65). On the interstate, late to turn in a paper for class, I got a ticket.

5.) Speeding (50 in a 30). Just broken up with my boyfriend, going home, and was crying. Received a ticket. How rude!

That's all I care to share at this time - after all, you could be a stranger. Regardless, lets just say I'm not the BEST driver in the world. I do get annoyed when others don't use their turn signal, drive to slow, or pull out in front of me. However, I never honk. Even when I should and could, I just cant pull myself to do it. It's too mean and what if it turned out to be my grandmother? Mortifying!

Well. . . Today I was driving to a home visit, no clue where I was going, attempting to read the house numbers. Of course I was driving like an old lady (or a person who was lost), but the car behind me comes up and lays on their horn for a solid 30 seconds. So naturally. . . I slow down, move a little closer to the middle of the road so they can't pass, and smile smugly in my rear view mirror. Sucker!

If I Had A Million Dollars. . .

Q. What would you do with a million dollars?

A. I would cash it in for quarters.

Agreed

Thomas Knows Me Best

I finally found a song that describes me perfectly!

Can you tell I used to be a preschool teacher?

Happy 100th Post!

I'm not sure which is more awesome. . .

His belt buckle or his shirt?

2 Things To Avoid This Summer . . .

1. Getting A Wart Removed At McKinley (mckillme)

2. Pooping Seagulls

After drinking I sometimes wonder . . . .

Q. How big is the worlds largest human poop?

A. 146 inches

-Ouch!

Indecent Exposure?

Have you ever seen somebody get arrested? Have you ever tried to talk somebody into putting their pants on so that they could avoid getting arrested? Have you ever darted as quickly away from that person as possible in order to avoid being associated with them? Well I have, and this is my account of what happened . . .

It all started at the Touch of Thai restraunt as most things do with Sam & I. We were enjoying some lovely pad thai with chicken (and a few glasses of wine of course) after a stressful days work. We ran into a few of Sams friends who informed us of a benefit at a bar across the way for a degenerative eye disease and all proceeds from beers go to the cause. Of course we would go - how could we say no to a good cause?

We were greeted on the street by an 80 year old biker dude with a long snow white beard, which he felt the need to use as a shirt - really attractive. I immediately called "dibs" and thus started the conversation of my future boyfriends. Upon entering the bar I quickly eyeballed the lead singer of the 50 year old band, he was wearing a slightly to small t-shirt, jeans with creases, and white tennyshoes. I've always wanted to be a roadie!

While at the bar we mingled with some old friends and made some new. I met quiet a few of the "dixon townies". Interesting group they are, but clearly a good time. A few beers later we decide to head over to another joint. We hung out until the bartender literally kicked us out, which is always a sure sign that the night went well.

After leaving Sam and I decide to take a little stroll along the river, maybe do some star gazing, romantic things like that. . . We decided to sit down by these little fountains that they have along the river. Basically it was 6x4 with 3 small fountains and some quarters that people had thrown in. We are sitting around - chit chatting as girls do. I was complaining that we didn't know anybody with a hottub and jokingly began to try and convince Sam to soak in the fountain with me. Suddenly out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of a young gent and little lady (about 24) strolling rather wobbley towards us.

The gal was wearing white pants covered in mud, and flip flops with very cut and bloody feet. She sat down nearby and Sam and I immediately asked what had happened. She is unable to speak, but her boyfriend (or guy trying to take advantage of her) stated that she had tried to jump in the river. Without saying anything she takes off her white pants to reveal a black silky thong and climbs into the fountain.

Sam and I attempt to convince her to put her pants back on, but it is no use. Then, as fast as you could say Jack Robinson not 1, but 2 police cars pull up. Sam and I immediately jump up and start moving away from the exposed gal. We cross the street and stop to watch from afar. Thats when they pulled out the handcuffs and hauled her off....

Overall, it was an eventful evening.

Dear Body,

Thanks for the wonderful legs, they are really beautiful when the hair is shaved off and I can actually see whats underneath. I'm sorry for all the scars, but my cousin felt the need to burn me with a shovel when I was 8 years old and the rest are from the barbed wire fence I felt the need to jump.

I'm sorry for dying and straightening the hell out of you Hair. I should have appreciated the mousey brown color my momma gave me, but instead I felt the need to let my sister dye you platinum blond. I'm just happy you didn't fall out. I promise to take better care of you for now on.

To my hands and feet: I'm still not sure why you are so large and in charge and continue to grow sprouts of hair where you shouldn't. Nothing a razor can't take care of, but I don't think I'll heal from being called froto.

I continue to blame the caveman for inventing the wheel, I don't believe I would have this large tire around my waist if it wasn't for him. Could it be from lack of exercise and a few to many beers? - Most certainly not.

I'm sorry for the times that I flaunted my boobs around or wore that skimpy shirt. I tried wearing a cardboard box around campus town, but they still are the center of attention. I don't look forward to having children.

You look pretty good butt. I know you have a lot to support with those love handles sitting on your shoulders. Don't worry, I don't have to big of expectations for you, I recently disposed of my so called "skinny" jeans.

Body, I know I've neglected you over the past several years but I promise to do better for now on. Please forgive me.

Sincerely,
Your Owner & Worst Nightmare

Gender Identity

Yesterday while at Walmart getting my fishing license the worker asked me a series of questions ranging from my name and address to my social security number. She didn't ask my input on any of the questions regarding my appearance such as my skin, eye, or hair color, but you can bet your buttons when she got to the question regarding gender apparently it wasn't obvious because she felt she needed to ask. My response: "Female last I checked, but I guess you never know for sure"

Dare To Be Different

Sometimes when I roll out of bed I think to myself

"Today I Feel Like Wearing MisMatched Socks"

Then of course I do.

Dedication

Dedicated to Laura - Please never bite me again.

Summer Goal

Summer Goal: Make A TinCan Telephone

Fineprint - one that actually works

cover your childs eyes

Tattoo's have never really been my thing. There's a few reasons why. Numero uno being that there is no way I could handle getting pricked with a needle that many times. Numero dos because I don't want to be a saggy old lady with a riskay tat. Regardless, they have always sparked my interest. So, if I WERE to get one here are the runner ups..... Drum roll please......

"PEAK A BOO"

"THE LAWN MOWER"

Magic Bullet + All New Recipies

A long long time ago (about 3 years).... In a land far far away (Champaign)... There lived 2 lovely maidens who we shall call Emily & Laura (to protect the innocent).

Well these two fine maidens fell in love with the same uh . . . man . . . They both tried to bribe and bargain, and trade and trick this man into coming home with them. They each saw him on an infomercial making Chicken Salad in 1....2....3.... seconds, which is when they both knew that he must be theirs.

One fine day in the month of may the maidens were at Gordmans and they came across this fine man for sale for a bargain price of $69. The man went by the name of "The Magic Bullet". The bullet was known to whip up salsa, smash up Chicken Salad, and blend up brilliance; however, neither of these fine ladies had the mullah to make the purchase so they both went home sad, defeated, and empty handed.

Then, there came along a fine young man named Jeff who knew of Emily's secret passion for the bullet. He decided to cough up the change and purchase her this magnificent merchandise for her 23rd birthday (since you only turn 23 once). Emily stored it and kept it safe (just like her dad does) and was "saving" it until she was ready to make the amazing 1,2,3, chicken salad. Eventually.... She gave in and decided to open it up and check out all the recipes for under 10 seconds.

To Emily's surprise she found stuffed mushrooms - Yum! She raced to the store and bought up all the ingredients as quickly as you could say bread plum pudding. She didn't have any measuring cups because she forgot to buy those, so she did an "educated guess" at just how many shakes it takes to get a quarter cup of ricotta cheese and how many pinches a tablespoon really is.

She mixed up all the ingredients using her new bullet, popped them in the oven to bake, and walah! She began eating them . . . without Laura's presence (although she was thought of). However. . . suddenly . . . as strong as an earthquakes tremor, Emily's stomach started to rumble and grumble... twist and turn...

QUICK!!! Run for Cover!!!! As she darted for the bathroom, she barely made it in the knick of time. The rest of the story is history - use your imagination.

Morale of the story - Magic Bullets are for Daiquiris, not mushrooms. Laura - don't be jealous.

Driving... A Lot

So, I don't know if any of you have realized yet, but I drive an awful lot for my job. Between the hours of 8am and 6pm I will often drive a few hundred miles on a daily basis. This is one of the reasons that Ol' Betsy may not hold up much longer. One pro from driving around so much is that I have a lot of time to look at bumper stickers. Hence my last post. Today I found a new favorite....

"I'm Only Speeding Because I Have to Poop Really Bad"