Random Thoughts...

Where to begin, where to begin? Ah.
First off...

Thought #1: My family is perverted.
Well, more specifically, my mom n' pop.

Yesterday, I was loading stuff into the back of Dad's truck, bent over just minding my own business when suddenly... I was ASSAULTED.

By the time I'd realized what had happened, Dad was already half way up the drive.

After climbing back out of the pile of boxes I had just fallen through, I marched inside to loudly announce my displeasure.

"Did you SEE what Dad just did!!?", I charged.

"What?", Gem responded listlessly, not even looking up.

"He pinched my bum!", I declared, trying to emphasize the seriousness of the matter.

"So?", she yawned.

"My behind! My derriere! My fanny! My posterior! My tush! My very own, personal bum!", I cried dramatically.

"So that's why he just walked in chuckling to himself.", she surmised.

And then, as if that weren't enough, later that night, when I tried to get some sympathy from mom, do you know what she said?

Do you, KNOW what she said!?!

"Bum-pinchers have been in existence for hundreds-of-thousands-of-years."

And, ya know what? I should have seen it comin'.
There hasn't been a bum-pinching opportunity, in my lifetime, that Mom hasn't taken advantage of.

You have no idea how alarmingly terrifying going up the stairs in front of her can be.

I eventually had to learn to either
A) block her jabs
B) insist that she go first
-or-
C) run like the wind, Bullseye.

Let me repeat. Perversion. Everywhere.

Thought #2: My dad is a fibber.

Do you know those quintessential moments as a child, where you look up into your parent's face, unabashedly waiting for them to explain life's wonders to you?

Because, of course, parents know everything, right?

I have recently come to the conclusion that such a concept is a big heaping pile of BS. I mean a really big, stinky load.

And it all comes back to Dad. The world's greatest fabricator.
You can never tell whether or not you're being lied to. He's that good, the turd.

Seriously. I have no absolutely no idea what's true anymore.

Many a time, I have shared some of my Dad's vast knowledge, with those around me, only to be shot down instantly.

"Did you know that emu's legs bend backwards while ostrich's legs bend forwards?", I'll share with bright eyes.

"No they don't.", the person will say.

"Uh-huh!" I'll insist, "My dad told me so!"

"No.", they'll confirm succinctly, all the while shaking their head in pity and backing away slowly.

Then I make a sad face.
Because this happens often. Too often if you ask me.

So, a word of advice from one who knows.
Though my Dad may put on a good front of supernatural mind-power and all-omnipotence,

He's a FAKE. A FAKER I SAY!
But a really smart and talented faker at that.

Thought #3: Everyone thinks their feet are normal.

Scratch that.
After recently voicing my opinion on the matter, I was shot down immediately.

Apparently, I was wrong.
Everyone thinks their feet are abnormal in some way.

I guess I'm the odd-ball out then. Up to this point, I always thought my feet were perfectly proportioned. Now I am forced to re-evaluate.

*looks at feet*

But, hey. I just thought of something funny.
When I was camping (you know, the infamous scooter victory trip) my sister came up with her family for the day.

We were by a stream which meant that everyone was naturally inclined to play in it at one point or another. So it was no surprise that, as soon as they were released from the confines of the van, my sister's kids shot into the water followed closely by their mom.

Several minutes later, she emerged soaking with a dripping schnauzer in tow.

Noticing her muddy and waterlogged sneakers, my dad comically commented on how, exactly, they had come to that point.

"It was no easy feat!" she voiced loudly.

And, you know me, I couldn't help it.

"Pfft... Feet." I giggled immaturely.

(Feat. ----> Feet.)
Geez. Get with the picture.

How many idiot's we got in here?

All I know is that, when people's middle toe is longer than the rest, I feel like I'm being flipped of. Foot style.

K. I've decided to change thought #3.

Revised Thought #3: My feet are normal.

Too bad, so sad for the rest of  you.

Thought #4: I forgot to post pictures of our Craft Day!

We made paper plate masks, bead & noodle necklaces and crepe paper art.

I did a flower. It was purdy.

What?!? I can't be included in the fun?

Thought #5: Wait... what was my thought? Oh, right.

Thought #5: I am forgetful.

Because I also forget to post pictures of my Box Fort Activity!

Are you oh-so impressed?
I know, I know. I should have gone into architecture.

Except for the fact that after only twenty minutes of playing, their fortress collapsed on them. But minor detail, right?

I'm blaming it on faulty duct tape.

No Time for Losers.

As soon as I'd crossed the finish line in a victorious blaze of glory, Queen's 'We are the Champions' began playing on an instant loop in my brain.

I knew that I had redeemed myself from all those failed attempts at successfully maneuvering any type of motorized vehicle in the world's vast assortment of video games.

Here, while camping with my family up Hobble Creek Canyon I had finally triumphed.

Here, surrounded by dense undergrowth and a babbling stream I had fulfilled the means of my creation.

Here, three times around a blacktop loop at the dead end of a deserted campground I had gained personal fulfillment, laud and honor.

And it was all thanks to the scooter race to rue all scooter races.

Let me take you back...

'Da Twinneh', Gem and I sat around our fire pit while the exorbitant sun shone down through gaps in the trees and smoldering logs spewed noxious gases directly into our eyes.

"I hate broccoli monkeys, I hate broccoli monkeys, I hate broccoli monkeys." Gem repeated as it continued to spiral her head.

We did our best to ignore her.

"Wanna race me on the scooters?" 'Da Twinneh' suddenly brightened, sitting upright.

"Yah!", I enthusiastically responded in such a way as to surprise everyone, including myself.

Instantly, the possibility of bodily harm triggered Mom's paranoia sensors. As if it were from a invisible portal amidst the trees, she appeared instantly.

"Oh no ya' don't!" she declared, "I've bandaged way to many wound from such tom-foolery!"

"Cool it, ma." we re-assured her, "We'll be safe. Promise."

We jumped up excitedly, dragging the rusty play toys of our childhood behind us.

"Woah!..." Gem enthused while turning in wobbly circles, "It's even harder than I remember left footed!"

Mom, followed closely by Dad, decided to observe the action close-up, ever on hand in the event of some strange freak accident. She stood at the start line, passively wagging one hand in the air.

"No!" I challenged detestedly, "You have to stand like Cha Cha Digregorio at the beginning of the big race at the end of the movie Grease."

She leaned one hip and a good part of the same leg ever so slightly to the side.

"Give it a little attitude!?", I begged.

"Wait, wait!" Gem interrupted, "What's the finish line?"

"Uhh..." I scrambled, looking frantically for an object that could serve such a purpose, "How about the first one to touch Dad, wins!"

"What, you wanna kill him???", 'Da Twinneh' questioned incredulously.

"Right, right." I conceded, "Probably not my best idea."

"And what about rules?", she added.

"No cheap shots!", Gem demanded, clearly having no experience in the subject.

Eventually, we came to consensus that, above all, we would strive to maintain civilized decorum and maintain the rules of good sportsmanship.

"Oh, and you may want to hold your breath around the backside of that outhouse." I suggested, "It smells like death back there."

All agreed gratefully.

In the meantime, our aged parents dozed where they stood.

"Marks. Get sets. GO!" Mom yelled, dramatically flailing her arms behind her.

Which brings us back to the present.

"Ha, ha!" I laughed exultantly, "I could just feel the wind in my hair as I crossed that finish line."

"Little did you know, I was that wind." Gem boasted from her spot of shame among the leaves, "I was so fast, you didn't even see me win."

Truth was, she had given up mid-lap 2.

"I can't believe you won." 'Da Twinneh' whined incredulously, "It doesn't make any sense."

"Yah!" Gem piped in, "How is that even possible??"

"Hey!" I verbally assaulted them, "Stranger things have happened!"

The thrill of victory had been lost on Mom.
"You guys wanna go for a walk?" she asked.

We looked from side to side at each other.

"We'll go for a 'scoot' with you." we grinned cheesily.

As we progressed down the trail, each of us took turns circling Mom, racing to the front or demonstrating our best jumps.

Suddenly, a war cry filled the air.

"Duh-dun. Duh-dun-duh-dun. DUN. DUN.", 'Da Twinneh' recited in her most ominous 'Jaws' theme music tone all the while darting towards me.

In a moment of sheer panic, I held out my arm and cringed as a last effort to stop, or at least deter, her impending attack.

The next thing I knew, she was lying face first on the pavement, legs twisted around the scooter in a gruesome display. Motionless.

"Ah!!!" Mom shrieked, her worst fears confirmed as she shot to her side, "Are you okay!!??"

Unfortunately, this concern was lost amid the uncontrollable laughter seeping from our very beings.

"Wait, wait! Don't move!" I gasped while pulling out my flip-phone, "I've just got to document this moment!"

(Notice Gem's pointing, jeering finger.)

Suddenly, the lump of flesh began to revive. This, noticeable, due to mumbling half-sentences interrupted by hyperventilation and random wailing.

"AOoww..." she moaned, rolling over, "Why'd you have to go and do THAT?"

"I'm sorry!" I prickled offensively, "Clothes-lining you was my only defense mechanism!"

"But you didn't have to completely flatten me." she protested while dusting the dirt from her knees.

"I fully expected you to successfully dodge me! If you were quicker on the scoot, then we wouldn't have this problem." I sneered.

Much playful bickering ensued. Followed by false injury charges and a quick inspection to garnish a 'no damage done' report.

(The liar tried to convince us that this was from our little 'scooter' incident.

We later came to know that it was a carpet burn that had been incurred a week earlier during an arm wrestling match. Pansy.)

After slowly limping back to camp, we once again willingly settled around the fire to inhale ridiculous amounts of smoke and lazily stare into the black embers.

I was roused from my reverie only for a brief moment as I watched Mom slowly stroll on non-chalantly, her hoodie hanging like a shawl about her shoulders.

*Update*: 'Da Twinneh' totally deserved what she got.

My designated, self-labeled plastic cup (waste not, want not)
started of like this...

And ended up like this...

Hmm... Who coulda' done it?...

But no worries.

To add insult to injury, I later schooled the offending party in a Nerts Battle til' the Death.

That's right. Final score: Corinner-Elly, 255. 'Da Twinneh', 168.

Oooooh... What Now?

Yayh.

Do Da Dippity.

I think I feel a song comin' on...

Here dey' come yo, here dey' come.

This or that? This or that? This or that?

Yah, Cum' ON!

The choice is yours...

You can get with this,

or you can get with that.

You can get with this,

or you can get with that.

You can get with this,

or you can get with that.

I think you'll get with this,

for this is where it's at.

Well.
Glad that's out of my system...

This song plays in my head when I wake up every morning.



That and Katy Perry's 'California Gurls'.
But let's not even go there... it is far too grammatically painful.

I spent the weekend in the Uintas at Moosehorn Lake with my family. Well... except for the lame ones who never showed up. (You know who you are.)

Allow me to document the most memorable moments.

Look how gorgeous the place is?

Mom always says that it must be one of the most beautiful places on earth.

I'd have to agree.

Yes. I wore pink sneakers.

and a black-satin-bow headband.
and I put on makeup.

Everyday.

So shoot me.

My niece Lil' is adorable.

Every time I see her come running towards me, arms outstretched with the most ecstatic look on her little round face I say,

"Can I just keep you forever?"

and she always says 'yes'.

Campfires.

Where else can we all be stinky together and not give a darn?

Wanna see the grossest thing on Earth?
I think you just did.

I call it the giant-spider-leg, cricket-abdomen, hairy glob of scary grossness.

That's G.S.L.C.A.H.G.S.G in acronym.

I painted a rock. It's for my Canadian.

But shush! Don't tell her.

It's a surprise.

And please notice my newly painted cutsie-tootsy-wootsie-pootsie fingernail polish. (Yes. I did just say that.)

I cooked a dozen perfectly golden breadsticks on a... stick?

Don't use those pictured as an example. For some reason, everyone else massacres them...

Then Livie-Lou begged me to go on a walk down by the lake.

Which reminded me of a life's lesson one must forever remember:

If you always take time to stop and smell the flowers, sooner or later...

you'll inhale a bee.