The things we realize…

It’s interesting how a random thought can turn into a realization about your entire childhood. A couple weeks ago, someone on Facebook posted about how they liked horseradish, and it got me thinking about my grandfather.

In the entire time that I knew him, and I’ll grant you, it wasn’t very long, but in that time, he never asked me to bring him anything. He would ask my cousins, or my aunts and uncles, but never me, and I think I finally figured out why.

To borrow the good ol’ sports analogy, I was born with two strikes against me. Let me explain…

First, my mother.

My mother is easily the most kind hearted person I know. Sometime early in my parent’s relationship, my mom was helping make sandwiches for lunch. My grandfather asked for horseradish on his. Mom, never having horseradish before, proceeded to slather it on to the bread like it was mayonnaise, and gave it to him. Grandpa took one bite, and spat it back out, yelling, “You trying to kill me, woman?!”

That was strike one.

Then, my sister.

My brother and sister are both 9+ years older than I am, and grew up when my family was especially church orientated. When I say “church orientated”, I mean, my father was a deacon, and my mother was a Sunday School teacher. So it was church every Wednesday, twice on Sunday, and every single day during Revival. This might not seem relevant, but bear with me.

Now, my grandfather liked to drink beer. He also liked to sit in his comfy chair, which left him with a problem: how to get a nice cold beer from the fridge…without getting out of his comfy chair. His solution was to ask my sister to bring him a beer.

Remember the thing about the church? Here is where it comes into play, because, you see, the church taught two major things: respecting your elders…and alcohol is bad. So, grandpa’s solution…became my sister’s problem. Alcohol was bad, but so was refusing to do what he asked her to. Fortunately, my sister has always been smart and came up with a solution to grandpa’s “solution.” She brought him a beer from the fridge, alright. But first, she gave it a good shake.

He made it through the unexpected beer shower the first time. And the second. And maybe even the third, I don’t remember how many times she did this to him before his cogs started turning, but eventually, he stopped asking her, and turned to my brother instead.

I love my sister, let me just get that out of the way now. She is the usually the sweetest little thing. However, she has her moments. And when grandpa asked our brother to bring him a beer? Well, she had a moment. She got our brother, three years younger than her, in on Operation Respect Our Elders/Beer is Bad. It eventually got to the point where grandpa would look around, realize that they were the only two there…and get up out of his chair to go get his beer, rather than risk another shower.

That was strike two.

By the time I came around, grandpa decided it was better to change sports than to worry about any curve balls I might’ve thrown him, and – just to be safe – he also wrote my name on all of the benches…with permanent marker. Now that I’ve had time to think about it, of course, I’m surprised he didn’t take a knife and carve my name into the wood.

At any rate, it’s a childhood mystery solved.

Asking for help is a GOOD thing.

I am seriously using EVERY SINGLE TAG I use for this, because this is important. A cry for help should not EVER be ignored, and the person ASKING for help should never be made to feel like they are somehow LESS for NEEDING that help.

If you are shot, you go to a doctor. If you break an arm or a leg, you go to the doctor. You don’t feel ashamed for needing help THEN, why should you when the pain is INSIDE you? When it is a literally LIFE THREATENING injury/illness? And yes, people, it IS life threatening. Or do you think they were just playing with the noose around their neck? Or the bullet hole in their head? Or maybe the slit wrists and the mountain of fucking pills in their stomach.


Do you know WHY so many people don’t get the help they need? Because there are dickholes out there who are mocking them. Who dismiss the cries for help as a “phase” until the person finally gets to the point where they think “why bother?”

And then those same assholes have the nerve to say “I don’t understand…what happened?”

YOU happened, asshole. You and the rest of society who have pushed them down one too many times, without even a backwards glance, much less a helping hand to get them back on their feet.

Their blood is on YOUR hands. And don’t you EVER fucking forget it.


**Note: To those of you who actually reach out to those who need help, this is NOT directed at you. And please, never change that part of you. We need more people like you.**

First off… no one panic, I’m not suicidal. Yes, I get down and feel like wtf is the point at times. I hate having to work when I know life is short and I’m not happy at my job and I keep thinking.. no one cares. If I died tomorrow, there’d be some poor schmuck […]

via Suicide… 4 words: Listen, I need help! — Kawanee’s Korner

A series of disappointments…

It’s been a shitty week.

First, my surgery was pushed back two weeks because of this damn cold I managed to pick up somewhere.

Then, my mom was supposed to come visit, but that fell through. She’s still planning on visiting, but I don’t know when that’s going to happen.

Then the kids both ended up sick, and some news we were expecting never came in. So we’re still waiting on that. I messed up an assignment because of the rigamaroll that was going on with mom’s travel plans, and just. Ugh. It’s been a mess.

Pretty much the only good thing so far was going to see Guardians of the Galaxy 2, and even that was a bit blah, because really, Marvel? REALLY?! That was a dick move.

Oh yeah, and The Sims: Parenthood. But overall, this week is blah. And I am so done with it. Three weeks of coughing, people. It’s been THREE weeks!

The surgery was postponed til June 7th, but since I am still coughing, I’m not sure what they’re going to do. This is driving me insane. I want it done and over with, dammit!

Ugh, oh yeah, AND I forgot to update “Say ‘No’ to Zombies.” Sorry about that guys. I might update on Saturday, and then on Monday. We’ll have to see. I’m trying to make sure I stay a couple chapters ahead, but I’ve been so busy with school and work and games, I think I might be a little behind.


Story Effects (Part 2)

So a fellow blogger and I were talking about stories that had a lasting impression on us (in one way or another. Her story, about ‘The Red Spot’ can be found here.

This is my contribution:


One story that left a lasting mark on me, was a story I read when I was around six or seven. I don’t remember the name of the book, or where I got it from, but it was a collection of scary stories (what is it with kids and scary tales? Seriously?!) including legends of vampires and werewolves. Some of them were just plain “meh.” Urban legends about, how sleeping in the light of the full moon for three days in a row would cause you to turn into a werewolf, using grains of rice to keep a vampire busy until dawn, etc. But one of the stories…oh, that story got me good. In a really weird way. Here is a short version of the tale from Wikipedia:

“There once dwelt in a cavern in this country a vampire, called Dakhanavar, who could not endure anyone to penetrate into these mountains or count their valleys. Everyone who attempted this had in the night his blood sucked by the monster, from the soles of his feet, until he died. The vampire was however at last outwitted by two cunning fellows: they began to count the valleys and when night came on they lay down to sleep, taking care to place themselves with the feet of the one under the head of the other. In the night the monster came, felt as usual and found a head: then he felt at the other end, and found a head there also. “Well,” he cried. “I have gone through the whole 366 Valleys of these mountains, and have sucked the blood of people without end, but never yet did I find any one with two heads and no feet!” So saying he ran away and was never more seen in that country; but ever after the people have known that the mountain has 366 Valleys.”

It’s simple and not really scary, but ever since then, I cannot sleep unless my feet are covered. I also will never forget that the mountains have 366 valleys. Too bad I can never remember the name of the mountain range with so many valleys…


Challenge accepted.

For the past three years, I’ve been pranking my youngest niece and nephew. It’s been easy because it’s fell within the school year. They would come home and find their bed sheets switched around, or their closet rearranged. Just little stuff that made them go “Huh?”

This morning, my niece, Koda, made sure to tell me: “You can’t fool us today! We’ll be home allllll day, and we’ll be watching you!”

tried to warn her that I could still get them. She refused to listen.

So I waited. After lunch, she’s doing her chores, and my nephew was sitting at the table, playing with his figurines. I have my tablet.

Me: “Oh…my….GOD! Koda! Koda, come here! Look!”

Both of them come running to see what I have on my tablet. I got two smacks upside the head, but I think I proved my point. With minimal effort, too.

Bonus: less than an hour later, I nonchalantly say: “oh hey, look at that…” And they both came running again. Same picture. If looks could kill…

Kids, I swear…

Okay, so one of my jobs is as a cashier/clerk at a gas station down the road from where I live. The other job is being a nanny to a ten year old and a seven year old. Last week, the ten year old went on a field trip with her school, and got a t-shirt with the name of the trip and everything on it. Saturday, another kid came into the gas station wearing the same t-shirt. Turns out the girl knows the munchkin I take care of.

Me: One of your classmates came into my store the other day. I don’t know her name, but she was wearing that Campfire shirt, and she says she knows you.
Her: Was it Taylor?
Me: I don’t know, she didn’t tell me her name.
Her: Did she have blonde hair?
Me: No.
Her: Was it Maddie?
Me: I don’t know her name.
Her: Was it a girl?
Me: Yes, but I don’t know her name.
Her: Was it ____?
Me: *facepalm*

I love this girl, but seriously….