That Was Beautiful… In a Serial Killer Kind of Way

Recently, during my most impossible bout of insomnia, I decided to do what I normally do in times of insomnia.

  1. Internet, usually Gaia online playing stupid games and trolling the forums
  2. Rereading blog entries from Cursitivity and Hacker. Ninja. Hooker. Spy. (they are my blog crushes, but don’t tell them)
  3. Doing things that gave me bad ideas from said blogs

Since Cursivity wasn’t really giving me any ideas to troll people or find any blogging gold at that exact moment (Sorry Maurna, maybe next time :P), HNHS did not disappoint.

I’ve read this same entry from Aussa on several occasions, mostly talking about the other folder on facebook.  This particular post, the fact that the guy said she was worth ten goats, just rustles my jimmies in the best way.

My jimmies are sufficiently rustled.

My jimmies are sufficiently rustled.

I went through this folder before and found messages from old friends from high school who had been trying to contact me for a while, and I felt awful because I couldn’t remember who these ladies were.  Then I remembered and I was extremely excited to be talking to these people for the first time in 6+ years.

But I decided to go back to around 2010, and I found this horrifically creepy message.

I should probably explain this back story.

Back when AIM was cool, I would meet random people in chat rooms.  Probably not the brightest idea, but I’ve met some really cool people this way.  Hell, I technically met my husband on Plenty of Fish, but that’s a story for another time.

Anyway, I was living in Alaska and this guy was talking about moving to Alaska, and via text box, I was convinced he was my long lost soul mate.

Then I skyped with him.

This is why Skype is amazing, it lets you hear their voice and get a better idea about the creepy factor.

This guy was living at home with his parents at age 23, he didn’t have a job because he lied for his friend and was clocking his friend in an hour before the guy would actually show up to work, blamed the company for requiring someone to be on time to work, wasn’t going to school at all, and was just… Oh, whiney?

The bottom line about this whole thing was that he wasn’t my prince charming.  In fact, the internet tricked me into deluding myself into thinking that this guy across the country might be perfect because I knew little to nothing about him.  Ah, the dangers of the internet.  So, after the fateful skype call, I blocked him.

I realized I was friends with him on Facebook, so I deleted him on there as well.  But I did not block.

I never heard from him again… or so I thought.

Fast forward to last week, after reading 50+ posts between HSNS and Cursivity, when I decide to go through my other folder again.

This guy, shortly after I deleted him, sent me this message.

This is the face off to my own thoughts of what I’ve lost.  Reflection of yearning that lead to my demise is now this dreaded feeling I despise.  Could I have made this mistake while I looked you in the eyes?  This is my current anchored haze, as my mind is set astray.  Sanity.

This pristine pain is a mask of lost love that I’ve sustained.  It’s a mark of courage for the minutes of discourage.  It’s this tender embrace, just like the feel of your hand gently gliding across my face to cause this mass appeal.

This possession of mine is hastily plundered by the greedy hands of time.  These memories confine my being to a lonely mind.  Grudged thoughts are branded to my heart; where pain has wasted not.  Between dusk and dawn I face off against my thoughts.  To the reflection off my demise brought on by this disguise.  Sanity was all part of my mask of lies.

This rush, this subtle pain is overwhelming as it floods my brain.  The clock keeps ticking but the world around me keeps in a stance as I wait, hoping for a bit of promise for you and me.


Beautifully written… but it came off as serial-killerish to me.  He had never even met me in person.  Ever.

Naturally, I do the first thing that comes to mind.

I totally and completely spam Aussa’s facebook page.  Because that’s the obvious thing to do, right?

I kind of do this more than I should, and I’m sure that in her private study, whenever I message her about horribly awkward situations and telling her my embarrassing moments that I can never post on my blog because my mom and grandma read this, I’m sure she’s thinking, “Jesus, is this girl ever going to stop being so annoying and weird?”  But she’s far too nice to say anything, so I just roll with it.

So when I spammed the hell out of Aussa’s facebook, we were in a debate as to who had the creepiest message—my serial killer message, or her ten goat message.

She and I did come to a consensus that the Facebook other folder is blogging gold though.

Which is why I love the blogging community.

So, internets, should I respond to the four year old email that is just creepy as all get out? What are your thoughts?  Let me know in the comments!


I also want to thank Aussa and Maurna for letting me mention their blogs in this post.  I’m not doing it for the publicity of being attached to their blogs… I swear…

Things My Mom Was Right About: Laundry

So I’m going to try to do one installment a week of “Things My Mom Was Right About” simply because being 23 years old, I’m noticing that my mom is not a wizard, she is, wait for it, an experienced adult who is also a mom. 

Basically, mom does not equal wizard.

Still not totally convinced.


But this week I have discovered the power of sorting laundry. 

I used to throw all of my clothes together and wash it on the hottest temperature with a ton of oxy clean and detergent (hypoallergenic of course because I’m allergic to freaking everything) and my clothes would fade abnormally fast, my whites were a variety of colors, and I was always itchy.

My mom kept telling me that if I wanted to get a stain out, I had to soak the stain in cold water then spray it, then wash it with like colors.

I kept blowing her off and said “Seriously mom, I know that’s not true.  You’re just a wizard.  Don’t deny it.”

And she’d admit to being a wizard, because she’s awesome like that. 

So a few weeks ago I decided to start sorting my laundry and washing the brights in cold, the whites in hot water with bleach and the right amount of detergent, and even adding in fabric softener.

Holy hell.

Not only are my clothes not fading so fast, but my whites look… white.  The stains are coming out.  And I’m not nearly as itchy as I was.

Mom ISN’T a wizard.

Sorting the laundry DOES work.


I will be posting more stuff about how I’m an awkward northerner in the south, but I haven’t had too many awkward things happen as of late.  I’m currently only working a part time job and I really avoid leaving my house, but I’m going to start going to coffee shops and talking to strangers to see what happens. 

So, internet, tell me, what is something that your parents told you that you ignored them about until you were well into your adult years?  Anything?  I have an entire list. 

Like what you read?  Follow me on facebook!  I post odd news articles from southern states and encourage discussions, as well as post blog updates.

Why My Husband is the Best Husband Ever, Y’all

This is my husband

Alex, right before he joined the military and got insanely hotter

Alex, right before he joined the military and got insanely hotter

He is a very tall man, standing at around 6’7.  His eyes are insanely blue, and as you can tell, he’s devilishly handsome.

I’ll be totally honest, I do not deserve this man.  He’s fantastic, but let me tell you what brought on this strange blog post.

I have many friends who shall remain nameless who post stuff on Facebook all the time talking about how they have the best husband in the world.  I always smile when I see these things, because it shows that chivalry isn’t dead and that these couples appear to really love each other.

Here are a few examples of my why friends husbands are the “best husbands alive.”

“Hubby called me from the flight line today to say hi and that he missed me, best hubby ever!”

“Hubby came into my work today with flowers just because he thought I’d like them, best hubby ever!”

“Hubby made dinner.  I know it was only take and bake pizza and he burnt it, but he tried, so he’s the best hubby ever!”

“Came home to the hubby having done the dishes!  Yes, he did a terrible job but it’s the thought that counts!  Best hubby ever!”

Now, I see these and I smile, because I think it’s very cute.  But I also know that I totally have the best hubby ever, and here’s why.


1.  He doesn’t kill my hair with fire.

I have insanely bushy, thick, uncontrollable hair.  The devil himself decided to punish me by giving me hair that he deemed more uncontrollable than a war mongering a-hole.


Me, just after waking up.

Me, just after waking up.

This is what he wakes up to every morning.  First time he saw it he tried not to scream, and when he tried to run his fingers in my hair, we almost had to cut my hair around his fingers because my hair is so ungodly thick.  Hair straighteners tremble with fear at the thought of my hair, and no matter how I get my hair cut, no matter what products I use in my hair, no matter how long or short it is, it just refuses to work with me.*

2. He cleans the house… To military standards

Let me tell you a story.

When I was living on my own, you could not see the floor of where I was living.  My roommates called my bedroom “the pit” because you could get lost from all the crap in my room.  I had two patches of floor you could see and it took a lot of jumping and maneuvering to get from the door to the bed.

Alex, however, is a neat freak, and I mean this in the nicest possible way.  No bedspread would dare wrinkle under Alex’s watch.  When we were first dating, I would go to his dorm room and be afraid to touch anything from how clean and orderly it was.  He cleaned the kitchen floor with a toothbrush for crying out loud.  Everything had a set, exact spot.  The bedspread looked like it was ironed on his bed.  His clothes were organized by color, sleeve length and formality.  I wish I were kidding about this, but I’m not.

So when we got married, he was excited because his thoughts were along the lines of, “Yay!  I’ll have help cleaning!”

My thoughts were, “Yay!  I’m never going to have to clean again or live in filth again!”

As you can imagine, this is really the only thing we ever fight about.

When he cleans, you can eat off the floors. He does dishes so well that they sparkle.  He even sorts the laundry and gets stains out.

This man is a God.


3.  He’s hilarious

IF you haven’t seen my Christmas card that we sent out this year, go read this right now.  What was even better about that instance, it was partially his idea and when I said, I would love to do it, he said “HELLS YES WE’RE DOING THIS!”

And so we did.



In addition he helps me embarrass family members when they visit or when we visit them.  We got our mom to run away from us in Target*

4.  He doesn’t try to stab me with a rusty spoon for messing up the kitchen.

I know I mentioned cleaning and how I’m a slob and how he’s a neat freak, but it is impossible for me to keep the kitchen clean. I try, I really do, but I just can’t do it.  I even worked in a kitchen and all of my coworkers told me that I was the messiest possible cook they ever worked with.

All I made was a bowl of cereal...

All I made was a bowl of cereal…

This is my kitchen.  This picture isn’t even staged (except the chair, I put the chair there on purpose).  When he saw me taking this picture, he got pretty mad.  Something along the lines of “WHY ARE YOU SHOWING THIS TO PEOPLE?!”

I dunno, I wasn’t really listening.

5.  He cooks… better than me

When I first got married I gained over 30 pounds in three months.  Now, everyone says that this is your “happy weight” from when you first get married, but I blame his cooking ability.

You see, he’s a culinary school grad.  He’s a mother fucking chef.  For Christmas he’s cooking a Christmas Goose.  Goose.  Who the hell makes goose?  This guy does.

6.  He’s weird.

I know this is a weird reason, but hear me out.  I’m borderline crazy with how weird I am.  I moved to Fairbanks, AK, willingly.  And I stayed up there after two years of college.  I decided I’d rather have dogs than kids because I like dogs better.  I have no filter when I talk.  I’m educated and I’ll still take the cheap whiskey over a fine wine.  When I shop, even when I could afford it, I went straight for the clearance rack at Walmart and I have shoes where the soles are literally falling off and broken, but since they’re comfortable I still wear them.  I wear mens clothes half the time because they’re comfortable, I curse like a sailor, and I’ll go grocery shopping in a parka, slippers and basketball shorts.

I’m very weird.

And he’s weirder.

He’s awkward, which is what I love about him.  He’s a dungeon master, a nerd through and through.  He likes anime, talks in movie quotes, owns 30+ board games, and always challenges me to be weird in every aspect of my life.

And he doesn’t care that I’m weird, because he still loves me.

Thanks Alex, for being the best husband ever.  Here’s to three years together!

Like what you read?  Follow me on facebook!  I’ll be posting strange news and blog updates there!

*I don’t give my hair enough credit.  I know how to kind of put my hair in a pony tail and I forget to brush it half the time, but even when I do my hair is like NOPE YOU SHALL DIE!

* I’m giving my mom far too much credit, she always ditches us in the store.  However, the last time she did it, Alex and I decided to run up and down the aisles while screaming “MOOOOOOOOOM!  MOOOOOOOOOM!” in a very nasal voice, to which she magically appeared behind us, hissing, “What?  Shut up!” It was awesome.  She doesn’t ditch us anymore.