Five Truths, One lie. Which One Won’t Set You Free?

A while back, the lovely Aussa Lorens posted a blog about an online game where you tell six statements, five of them true, one is false.  I was trying to figure out some weird facts about myself, and after a couple of months of thinking, I actually realized I’m more interesting than I originally thought.  Huzzah!

So here’s the deal.  These are six different statements.  One of them is false.

Tell me which ones you think are true, and which one is the lie.  GO!

 

  1.  When I was ten years old, I puked on a real piece of the Titanic.

    Puke. Everywhere.

    Puke. Everywhere.

  2. I once met Willie Nelson at a charity concert, not knowing it was him until over a month later.

    Except the beard was more epic

    Except the beard was more epic

  3. When I was really mad at one of my old bosses, I purposely screwed up the inventory so my manager was required to take a two day class on how to properly do inventory.  She wasn’t allowed to turn me in because I wasn’t supposed to be doing it in the first place.

    Just a little paperwork, I swear

    Just a little paperwork, I swear

  4. I lost my first kiss when I was nearly 19 years old.

    Except way older

    Except way older

  5. I moved to Alaska when I was 18 because my mom told me I should go.

    Best. Bet. Ever.

    Because who wouldn’t go here?

  6. I’m distantly related to my husband in at least two different ways.

    Enough said.

    Enough said.

So tell me internet, which one of these is a lie?  Which ones are true?

 

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His Name Was Arthur

About a week after moving in to my house here in Louisiana, I was out in my yard taking out the dogs so they could do their business.  It was around 100 degrees and since I had been living in Alaska for five years prior to this, I was basically glowing.  Not glowing as in “oh, so pretty,” I mean I was glowing as in I looked radioactive because of how the sun was bouncing off my skin.  Seriously, Alex had to look at me with sun glasses because I hurt his eyes.

It was ridiculous.

Anyway, when I was out,  my neighbor, who scraps metal for a living, was in his yard with his friend doing his scrap  metal thing.  He came over to the fence, where I walked over and introduced myself.

“Hey there, I’m Leah.  We just moved here from Alaska,” I tell him, and he smiled.

“Nice ta’ meetcha.  I’m Ah-tha.”

This was my first interaction with a true southerner.  His accent was so thick I was barely able to make out the “Nice ta’ meetcha.”  I was seriously at a loss for words.

“Uh.. What?”

He clears his throat.  “I’m Ah-tha.  My name is Ah-tha.”

I could tell he was trying to clear his southern accent, but I seriously could not understand what he was saying.  I felt like I was being really rude.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I ask him, trying to speak as clearly as I can.

He gives me a weird look, and repeats what he said.  “I’m Ah-tha.”

After a few more times of me saying “I’m sorry, I can’t understand you,” his friend finally stands up, in a perfectly clear accent, and says this.

“HE SAID HIS NAME IS ARTHUR!”

My face, in a nutshell.

My face, in a nutshell.

Never, in a million years, would I have guessed that’s what he was saying.

And that was the last time I ever talked to my neighbor.

How I Found Out I Was Dating My True Love (I Had To Wet The Bed)

For those of you who don’t know, I knew Alex almost three months when we got married.  I have heard so many people tell us that it would never last because we hardly knew each other, and I had a lot of people making bets on when I was due because they were certain I was pregnant.

It’s been nearly three years since we got married, and I have not given birth.  So those of you who made bets on my due date, pay up, because I didn’t have a baby.  Nor was I pregnant when I got married.

I do have to say this for sure though: I knew that no matter what happened, we could work through it.  Unless it was cheating, then he could go jump off a bridge.

But he’s never cheated, and neither have I.  So any problem we can work through.

The reason I can say that though, is because of what happened about two and a half weeks after we started dating.

At that point I was basically living in his dorm room on base.  From our second date on, we were never apart .  He would come to my work and borrow my car (he had no vehicle at the time since he had just gotten stationed in Alaska), he would buy my groceries since he found out that I was living off of Ramen and Chili (sometimes I’d cook a roast in my crock pot if the meat was on sale, or cook something else for my roommates since I loved to experiment), and then he’d fill my gas tank since I would fill my tank every few days, then he’d pick me up from work and I’d spend the night at his dorm.  It was a great set up.

After dating for a couple weeks, I got a bladder infection.  It was painful and if you are unaware of how bladder infections work, you sometimes have issues controlling your bladder.

Never, since I was about four years old, had I wet the bed.

Since Murphey’s law states that anything can happen whenever you don’t want it to happen, such as I didn’t want to wet the bed when I was falling head over heels with the potential father of my future children because he’d probably think “Oh hell no, I am not staying with a girl who is going to pee on me whenever she gets the chance.”

So of course I wet the bed.

And of course it wasn’t a little.  Oh no, Murphey’s law had to ensure that I drank close to a gallon of water the night before and peed enough to fill a gorge.

I'm pretty sure I was dreaming about this when it happened

I’m pretty sure I was dreaming about this when it happened

And it had to be when I was laying sandwiched between the wall and Alex on a full size bed.

And Alex had his arms wrapped around me in a death grip.

And I think I peed on him a little.

As you can imagine, I was in a state of horror.

This was basically my face

This was basically my face

Since it was around 6 in the morning, I figured he’d be too tired to wake up to my sneaking off to the bathroom to clean up a little bit.  So I’m then in the bathroom, coming up with a plan.

After about ten minutes, I decided that I’d roll him out of bed, covering up the spot, tell him that I got my period and bled on his sheets and I needed him to take my car to the shoppette to get me tampons while I threw his sheets in the washer and removed any traces of my having wet the bed.

I was pretty proud of myself considering how complex this plan was.

So I walked out of the bathroom, my head held high, ready to execute my brilliant plan.

When I walk into the bedroom, he had already finished stripping the sheets off the bed and put them in the clothes basket.

I felt my cheeks turn red, and my eyes tear up from embarrassment.  He didn’t say anything.  I took the basket and put the clothes in the washer, trying to hide my tears.

I get back to the room and he has the window open and has used half a bottle of febreeze.

“See?  Nothing’s wrong.  Everything is fixed.  Nothing happened.”

Except that I’m highly allergic to febreeze, so my wind pipe started to close up.

“There! I fixed it!  Nothing happened!  We’re good!” he tells me, to which I’m trying to get the few words out that I can.  I think he thought I was going to burst into tears from embarrassment.  The next words I spoke completely caught him off guard.

“I’m deathly allergic to febreeze!”

His face pales, he shoves me out of the room, giving me my shoes and socks and he finishes getting dressed.  He meets me in the hallway of his dorm room.

“So uh, lets go get some breakfast.”

It was true love.

He didn’t give me any grief.

He told no one.

And most of all, he didn’t dump me over it.

I knew from that moment on, I was going to marry him.

All because my bladder is an asshole.

So have any of you had an experience where you were sure that your boyfriend or girlfriend was going to dump you and nothing came of it?  Or something so embarrassing that it took you three years to be able to tell anyone?

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I Made Love Coupons! I Think I Did It Wrong…

Since I’ve been whiney lately and just been kind of mean to Alex, I figured I needed to make it up to him.  I was watching an episode of American Dad! And I thought, “Hey!  I could make love coupons like the dude in American Dad! I GOT THIS!”

So I made a bunch of random love coupons.

I think I did it wrong.

Here’s a few of the coupons that I wrote for Alex.

I think these are fairly useful...

I think these are fairly useful…

Ramen is dinner, right?

Ramen is dinner, right?

Pretty sure that this was a total and complete fail.  Luckily, Alex enjoyed them and plans on using most of them.

Thoughts?

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This Is Why I Can’t Have Nice Things- The Corset Story

I went to a beer tasting last night at the Home brewers association meeting, and I got to meet a lot of really nice people.  I’ve FINALLY experienced southern hospitality.

While there, I was talking to a couple of girls who were around my age and just a hoot, and as I progressively got drunker, they were talking about awkward situations, and since I have this horrible habit of one upping people, I tell them my corset story.

This is a two part story, and this results in an obscenely long post.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

First, how I got this awesome corset.

After I had lost around 30 pounds via Weight Watchers, I decided to reward myself by ensuring that I lost my weight in an attractive manner, primarily in my middle section, so I’d have an absolutely awesome hourglass figure.  When I was in high school, I wore a medium duty corset that ensured I filled out to my desired specifications, and I decided that this time around, I wasn’t going to mess around.

I shopped around online for a while and found this absolutely beautiful waist training corset .  I found it while Alex was in the room, and I have this terrible habit if having conversations with myself, and I honestly thought I told him about buying this thing, so this is how I remember it.

Me: Honey?  Would you mind if I got this TOTALLY BADASS waist training corset?

Alex: How much?

Me: Around $200.

Alex:… Only if you wear it while cleaning the house.

Me: OKAY!

Seriously, how can you say no to this?

Seriously, how can you say no to this?

So I ordered it.  I got an email from the lady who sold it, letting me know that for a little extra, I could have it custom tailored to fit my exact measurements  This made me super ecstatic, so I was like YES! YES YES YES! A THOUSAND TIMES YES!  So I sent her my very awkward measurements, and three weeks later my corset arrives in the mail.

When Alex is home and I am at work.

When I get home from work, the package is on the table and he’s standing there with his arms crossed.

Alex: What the hell is that package?

Me: It’s the corset I ordered.

Alex: What corset?

Me: You know that corset I ordered a few weeks ago.  I told you about it.

Alex: No, I would have remembered.  How much did it cost?

Me: Uh… well its custom made!

Alex: How much?

Me: It’s going to support my back and make me look super shapely!

Alex: How much?!

Me: IT’S PURPLE!

Alex: HOW MUCH DID IT COST?!

Me: Around $200.

Alex: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

So for the rest of the week, I was his slave in order to justify the corset.  Totally worth it.

The people I was telling this story to were dying from laughing, then Alex cuts in and says “Oh, tell the about the time you wore it to a buffet.”

This is part two, and evidence that either my mom is an a-hole, or she has a very sick sense of humor.  I’m going with both.

When we were visiting Minnesota that particular winter, I was planning on going to a drag show at a known gay bar in St Paul, and I thought to myself, “Who would appreciate a corset more than a bunch of queens? Nobody, that’s who.”

So the four days before going to this bar, I was wearing it around the house at my mom’s house to break it in.  You see, when you have a corset, you have to break it in over the course of two weeks so you don’t have problems breathing.  It’s very stiff when you first get it, and by wearing it a few hours a day over the course of two weeks, the metal boning in it molds to your body so it goes from painful to extremely comfortable and helps support your back, causes you to not eat because it sucks in your stomach, etc., so I was wearing it very loosely at my moms.

One particular night, mom said we were going out to eat, which I saw as an opportunity to test out eating.  I was wearing this corset while getting ready, and my mom, who I’m pretty sure has more muscles than The Rock, sees me wearing this.

This guy seriously has no body strength compared to my mom

This guy seriously has no body strength compared to my mom

“Leah, are you honestly going to wear this?” She asks me, and I’m pretty sure she was plotting something.

“Yeah, I need to break it in.”

“Well come here, it’s way too loose,” she says, and while I’m about to protest, she pulls it so tight that she sucked me in over eight inches.

I couldn’t actually breathe.  I had a very breathy voice the entire night.   Also, since it’s a long line corset that goes to the top of my hips, I had to walk without moving my hips.  That is EXTREMELY DIFFICULT.

So she takes us out to dinner.

To an effing buffet.

In order to get to this plethora of food, I had to get in the car.  Since I couldn’t move my hips, I couldn’t sit down, so they laid me down in the back seat.  The entire drive, while my step dad was driving, my mom would look in the back seat and start laughing.

We get to the restaurant, and I seriously considered throwing stuff at my mom.  We sit down, and if you are unaware, corsets push your boobs up.  So my boobs were basically in my face.  Literally, I could rest my face in my boobs from how far this damn thing pushed them up.

So I’m sitting at the table, my face resting in my boobs, hardly able to breathe, trying to eat a freakin’ slice of pizza.

My mother was dying.  Alex couldn’t figure out why she was laughing so hard.  He thought the entire thing was getting old.  Finally he asks her why she’s about to hemorrhage something from laughing so hard, and her response, between gasps, set the mood for the evening.

“She… wore… that thing… to a buffet…”

Alex nearly fell on the floor from laughing so hard.  So did my step dad.  Step sister arrived shortly after and was laughing pretty hard too.

I ended up not wearing that corset to the bar because I feared that my mom would lace me in again.

I’ve only worn it a handful of times since, once outside the house, for a Halloween party.

Malice in Wonderland--- Awesome, yes?

Malice in Wonderland— Awesome, yes?

Of course, I made sure it was laced very loosely to ensure breath-ability.

Things My Mom Was Right About: Carrying A Purse

Now, for most of you women out there, you’re probably thinking, “This girl must be an idiot for never carrying a purse unless her mom said so,” and I would be inclined to believe you, except I had very particular reasons.

I. Hate. Purses.

I am not a girly girl by any means.  I actively avoid make up.  I can’t style my hair to save my life.  Hell, five months ago I bought my first hair straightener and I still have no idea how to use it.  My hair is still frizzy after using it.  My mom still does a lot of my clothes shopping.  I own four pairs of shoes.

I’m going to a wedding in about two months and I think I’m going to have to ask my friend to take me shoe shopping since I do not own a pair of heels.  I only have steel toe shoes.  And tennis shoes.

So I hate carrying a purse, but it is a necessary evil.

When I was but a wee young girl, in high school, I had my wallet which had my debit card, my drivers license, my school ID, and any various money I would possibly have, I would put that in my pocket.  As well as my cell phone, which was a Katana II.

You know.. Before Smartphones were cool?

You know.. Before Smartphones were cool?

 

AND THEN I would have my keys.  In my pocket.  As well as my chap stick.  Now I did this because I really hated carrying a purse.

My mother is the polar opposite of this.

Here is a list of things she has in her purse.

  1. Wallet
  2. Keys
  3. Checkbook
  4. Manicure set
  5. Comb
  6. Bottle of ibuprofen
  7. Mirror
  8. Rosary
  9. Six different pens with different color ink
  10. Miscellaneous coins
  11. Deeds to a small country
  12. Leprechauns
  13. Tiny civilizations
  14. Chapstick

 

No lie, she has all of those things in her purse.*

She told me that I needed to start carrying a purse since my wallet was constantly falling out of my pockets and it was causing us to go back to restaurants to get my wallet.  She was convinced that someone was going to steal my debit card and steal my identity.

Funny how when I was in college someone stole my debit card and spent over $100 on gas.

And how one time when my wallet dropped out of my pocket all of the cash was stolen.

And how when I got a purse I can carry candy into a movie theatre.

Yep. Mom was right.

Carrying a purse is a good idea.

I don’t forget stuff nearly as often.

Thanks mom.

Is there anything that your mom was right about that you were like PFFT! No way mom!  I want to hear about it!  What was YOUR mom right about?

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*Okay, she doesn’t have all of those things in her purse.  Obviously she has no room for chapstick when there are leprechauns in her purse.

Going to The Gym: A Beginner’s Guide

Since it’s the new year, a lot of people will suddenly decide that they need to go to the gym to work off those extra holiday pounds.  I am one of these people, and so far, I’ve actually lost most of my holiday weight.  Huzzah!

But this is much easier said than done, and if you’re a heavier chap like myself, you may feel intimidated by the hot people talking about how hot they look in the mirror

It seems all the women at the gym look like this.

It seems all the women at the gym look like this.

 

But guess what?  Screw those people!  You’re trying to better yourself and they’re just being jerks!  Maybe.  I dunno, I’m usually a jerk to the jerks.

I go to the gym on a military base, which, as you can imagine, is tons and tons of fit people trying to be better and maintain their military standards, hell, that’s why the gym on base was built.

But for those of us get free access to the gym, who are not the pristine perfection of healthy, here’s a guide.

 

First and foremost, ignore the grunters.

I was at the gym the other day and I decided to go lift some weights.  I have wings and I really want Michelle Obama’s arms.

Hells. Yes.

Hells. Yes.

But this big muscly guy was sitting behind me doing a machine and I hear him going UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH! PFFFFFFF! AAAAAAAAGH!  While lifting weights.

Here are your options for dealing with this guy.

  1. Ignore him and keep doing your own thing
  2. Inform him that if he is lifting weights that are too heavy for him, he could get a hernia and he should lower the weights
  3. Tell him to knock it off so the rest of the people in there can work out in peace

Personally, I’d go for number two.  They are not expecting this.  This will probably catch the attention of everyone at the gym, and the dude will be so blown away at your audacity to tell him how to work out, he may just stop or tell you to shut the hell up.  Good thing he has weights that are far too heavy for him so you can make a somewhat quick getaway.

 

Secondly, enjoy the sights.

I love watching muscly people work out.  Mostly the boys.  Seeing grown men running gives me free entertainment.  They know you’re checking them out, and if they ask you to stop staring, just hold eye contact and say “nah, I’m good.”  I do this to my husband all the time and at first he told me to stop, and now he just stares back.

Enough said.

Enough said.

 

Thirdly, and finally, Don’t take any crap.

If you see those hot gym people snickering at you, go up to them and tell them that it’s okay to be jealous of you because you get to eat food and you have a soul.

Okay, that’s not fair.  They probably do eat.*

Mainly, what I’m saying, is that you need to own your self esteem and act like you’re a 40 year old woman— don’t care about what others think.  You’re there for you, and nobody else.  If you don’t want to go to the gym and sit at home, GOOD FOR YOU!  I’m totally with you.  The only reason I’m trying to lose weight is so I can eventually have kids.  But after the kids come out, I plan on eating cupcakes all day every day.  And donuts.  I love donuts.

Someone get me a donut.

 

Anyone have any awkward gym experiences?  Any advice for going to the gym when you’re nervous?  I want to hear your thoughts on the matter!

 

*I feel like I’m being a little harsh on people who go to the gym all the time.  I have a lot of friends who are very active gym goers and they go to the gym so they can eat whatever they want.  I have one friend who could eat ten plates at a buffet, and she’s a major gym goer because she wants to eat like that and keep her figure.  To those people, I salute you, I do not have that kind of dedication.  Also, they do have souls, just not the mean gym goers.  I’ve met nice hot girls who have given me advice at the gym and have been very nice, but I have also had meat heads snicker at me working out and then complain that fat people shouldn’t be allowed to use the base gym.  I’ve had both worlds, this post is mostly referring to the soulless jerks to ruin it for everyone else.