Pet Peeves

I generally think that I am pretty tolerable of other human beings.
I have my quirks. I know I am an acquired taste for sure.
But there are things in life that really annoy me.
Here are a few:

People who end their sentence with "at." That is ending a sentence with a preposition. That's not allowed. In fact if anybody has taken simple grammar they would know that. I don't care that it was in a T-Mobile commercial. I don't care that it has become slang. Just stop that. Just stop.

People who talk in a library. If you want to talk, go to some hipster coffee shop with your plaid flannel shirt and discuss how "profound" your poetry is away from the freaking library which is generally a safe haven for those of us who need silence. The thing that really bothered me was one day when I was at the library and a bunch of bros were there talking really loudly to their bro friends talking about how bro-tastically hilarious this one bro movie was. I get it, you have guy friends. I get it, this is a whole cacophony of bromance, but not in the library. So bros with your baseball hats that are half off your head along with your sweat pants that are barely covering your stupid puny asses paired with super tight t-shirts and Adidas sandals with black socks---lips zipped in the library. I have nothing against bros themselves, but their general attitude in the library is highly inconsiderate for those of us who are reading.

Using the word "like" too much. This one sucks because I do it too!!!! You have no idea how shocked I was when I graduated high school, came to college and only just realized  that I used "like" way too often in my sentences. People please, lets stop using like so often. There are so many useful and interesting words in the dictionary, why then should we use only a select few.

People who can't say two sentences without mentioning their significant other. Ladies, I am sorry to say that I find that the female sex does this generally more often than the male sex. Why is this? Are you less of a person without your boyfriend? Did you not exist until you started dating somebody? No? Then stop talking about your boyfriend. I don't care what kind of food he likes, or the sweatshirt that he wears all the time, or the fight that you had over mac n' cheese. Oh you know his opinions on everything? Great. But tell me, do you have your own opinions? If you have some semblance of a brain, you should. 

People who ruin the ending of movies and books. If haven't seen it, then I don't want to here all the details!  I love the mystery at the beginning of a book/movie, not knowing where the story is going. Please let me keep that joy.

Noisy eaters. I swear, there are some people out there that make a bag of chips sound like the they are eating a bag of bones or rocks. How can they make food echo like that? What is worse is when they smack their lips open to take another earthing shaking bite. I mean I know that people make noise while eating, but not that much noise.

Well that is everything so far. Generally though when I a person whose habits annoy me, I always give them the benefit of the doubt. I try to think that they're not doing it on purpose.

Exhausted

I am just too tired to blog.
Got called into work at 6:15AM.
I am not a morning person.
We have weak coffee.
I took a two hour nap.
It barely made a difference.
I totally and completely exhausted.

Internet Hysteria

My interent went out. I cannot believe how dependent I am on such technology until it is gone.
I kept swearing at it.
Calling it a stupid son-of-a-b****.
And it made me wonder, what would happen if all of our technology just died?
I mean a lot of dystopian movies speculate the terrible with an alien invasion or attack of zombies or some gross disease sweeping the nation and killing everyone and I always laugh and smile and say "That will never happen" but what if it did?
How would people react?
Probably terribly!
There would be mass hysteria where mothers would cling to their children sobbin;.
Young people would drink massive amounts of alcohol and consume drugs of every kind becuase the internet is out, their phones won't work, their world is ending so who cares if you're sober or not?
Kids would roam the earth. Their parents are either dead or will be killed at the grocery stores that are mobbed by selfish indivuduals who think of only their survival.
Dogs would become rabid and run in packs, chasing and potentially eating children.
And I would sit in my bedroom and drink tea, and read all my books over again so I can get lost in their worlds and escape from my own.
All of this because of the internet going out!
Maybe it won't be that dramatic, but speaking from somebody who proceed to swear for an hour over the loss of the internet, its not improbable.
But now I am using the internet,
perfectly aware that my outburst and imaginings of a dystopic future were completely irrational.

But it could happen.
You are now warned.

Croutons and Turtle necks

The weather is getting colder. I love fall. The crisp leaves, refreshing cool air, apple cider, homemade doughnuts from Robinette's= Pure and unadalturated bliss.
I also love the clothing. Especially sweaters, turtle neck sweaters.
Every time I put on a turtle neck sweater, I am always reminded of my best friend.
I was a junior in highschool, she was a senior, and we both had health class together.
We got on the subject of turtle neck sweaters and how much we loved them, so the next day we were going to wear turtle necks. Then the conversation turned over to food. We both loved crutons, we were going to eat those the next day too!
It was the first crutons and turtle necks day,
 We sat there in class,
early in the morning the next day,
crunching on garlic crutons,
giggling as crums stuck the the fabric of our sweaters.
So random.
So delightful.
And it was the only one that we had.
So Leah, here is my message to you, let's have another cruton and turtle neck day! especially since fall is here!
I'll post a picture if it happens.

Elegy for Susie Snail

I came upon the most interesting image walking home from school the other day. It was of two snails. One was dead, in a pool of slime and its side split open, and the other was slowly circling around the dead one. So I decided that these snails were married and write a poem about it.

An Elegy for Susie

His companion was dead, that large mass
had trampled her plump, glistening body.
Torn flesh exposed, visceral fluids oozed,
mixing with the tears that flowed from
his probing brown eye. Black hearses came
scurrying: pinched, pried, removed flesh from her side,
as her companion circled round , drawing a
trail of tears on the ground, that sparkled
in the dappled sunlight.
A helicopter lands, the iridescent wings
extend, but no mercy rescue for her.
He finishes circling round her body,
examining for some sign of hope.
Eyes stretched up toward the sky,
rigid back, extended neck,
a silent wail from a slug
whose wife has just died.

Hysterical

Ridiculous. I have been absolutely ridiculous today.
I am sick. I don't like being sick and it makes tired, cranky, and plagued with headaches that chip away at my very soul.
However, this cocktail of feelings proved to have a most interesting reaction as I prepared for my exam on Friday. It is for History of the English Language and as I listened to my professor talk about the exam, the more I realized how little I knew. After he left I bombarded my friend Stephanie for her notes so I could write them down with mine.
As I looked at the messy handwriting, everything suddenly became extremely funny.
Old English? Cracked Me Up
Vortigern? HA! Vorti-WHO??
Each word, letter, phrase, sound was suddenly a punch line.
Tears creaked out of my eyes as I clutched my sides, laughing so hard that I wasn't even making a sound.
Glorious.
Truly Glorious.
But I also think this means I have gone completely insane.
Take me to an asylum.
But please don't put me in a straight jacket, they make me look fat.  

A Sucker for Prizes

Whenever there is an opportunity to enter a raffle, or a drawing, or any other competition where you drop your name into a box hoping that it will get picked, I always put in my name. Always.
I think I have this fantasy, this childish dream that maybe my name, my beautiful name will be drawn and I will win that: car, $100 shopping spree at schueler's, free gas for a week, free gas for a year, free membership at the YMCA (for the first month), etc. etc. etc. 
And I have never won. Ever. But still I give them my name.
I guess I just have that hope, that every once and a while, we get lucky.

I guess I am not spam.

I guess the big fellas on blogger decided I was not spam. That's good. I guess. Of course now I have two blogs instead of one. I guess that will just make me stretch my writing muscles.
Today I made homemade soft pretzels, the good kind (not Guy Fieri's kind).
 I kneaded the dough and twisted pretzels that I would then boil in baking soda water for three seconds and put on the baking sheet sprinkled with coarse salt on top and threw them in the oven.
As I opened the oven door, my cheeks turning rosy from the blast of heat, I began to think of all the baking I have done over the years.
Our house was always one where things were made from scratch (well practically barring the occasional cake mix). And what was more bizarre is I would get teased for all the odd things in my lunch box.
Pumpkin custard, for example, was one of my favorite fall time treats. So it did look a bit like baby poop, who cares! It tastes like the delicious filling of a pumpkin pie. But none of the kids would try it.
And maybe the homemade applesauce looked a bit like barf, but hey it was so delicious!!!!
What added to my torment of lunchtime scrutiny was not the constant teasing (I'm the youngest of four teasing is what I was raised with) no, it was when my mom commented to my teacher, expressing her exasperation with the teasing I encountered. Well my teacher was going to DO something about that. So in front of the class the next day she lectured us on not making fun of other people's lunches.
She then continued to say how when she was in school, her family was poor, and they had to eat ketchup and mayonaise sandwiches. Not every family can afford the fancy things that they put in kids' lunches these days.
I could have died. I buried my little eight-year-old chin into my white turtle neck shirt, agonizing over the idea that my classmates might know that it was me she was talking about. Not that my family was poor, but which would you rather have, oeros or homemade chocolate chip cookies?
And now grade school is done. Making homemade food is now "in" and I am standing in the kitchen twisting pretzels and inhaling the scent of fresh baked bread. Glad that I had these scents all through my childhood. Blessed that mom is a good cook. Hoping that I shall be one someday.  

What? What is this?

I believe that the internet has decided that my blog is not spam. How nice of them. Now is the question: do I continue my new one or my old one? or both? If it's both then one will definitely have to have a theme because a girl can only ramble for so long...

Quit Scaring me!!!!

All day today I feel that I have done nothing but gasp at things that jump out at me or surprise me.
First, I thought I missed a very important meeting, which is next week Wednesday, and frantically flipped through the pages of my planner, checked my e-mail and my other calender to make sure I was not reading the dates wrong.
Then at work, one of my co-workers snuck up behind me and grabbed me by the sides. Lets look beyond the fact that I don't really like being grabbed in the first place, but he also scared the crap out of me, sending my blood pressure through the roof, and inhaled so hard that it made me cough, not cool.
Later, when it was just my boss and I closing up the conference center, he snuck up on me while I was in a very noisy dish room washing dishes. I nearly broke 12 plates.
I normally do get startled a lot and am an absolute wreck in haunted houses or scary movies and I can't help but think why?
Am  I really jumpy? Too high strung? A bit up tight?
I never thought I was.
Yet here I am,
breathing really hard,
heart pounding,
and scared.
Well just stop it world.
Just stop scaring me.
I don't like it.
Please, just quit scaring me! 

Guy Fieri is wrong

If you don't know who Guy Fieri is, all that you need to know is that he is a cook. A very good cook. So when I saw a recipe for soft pretzels, Guy's recipe, I figured I was on my way to an enjoyable snack eating experience.
I have made homemade soft pretzels before, but it was a different recipe than guy's. His was in the food network magazine, with the pages designed with colorful pictures of these delectable pretzels, plain, everything, pepperoni,l pesto, ham & swiss, all looking more delicious than the next. 
Reading the recipe, I thought I had the baking expertise to handle such a recipe.
I measured everything out perfectly, following the instructions meticulously.
Kneaded, waited, kneaded, twisted, and had my face scald from the constant opening an closing of the oven door.My pretzels looked just like the picture, I was so excited to take my first bite.
And then I did.
And it was very bland.
I now have 20 bland pretzels that I don't really want to eat.
Guy Fieri, your recipe was wrong. I did not enjoy my pretzels.
You can have the rest.
You can pick them up at my front door.
Thank You

I Wonder Where the Fish Did Go...

This next bit of turning dull ordinary things into interesting things has been inspired by Monty Python and the Flying Circus. It involves silly walks.
Now typically the average human being walks either fast or slow, and that is pretty much as diverse as it gets.
Now I decided, as I was walking to class, that I wasn't going to walk the same way. I decided I need to walk a silly way.
First as I stepped out my door I tried to impersonate a penguin walking. This walk was not terribly efficient and extrememly exhausting, plus I think I looked more like someone who had to pee really badly.
Then I walked taking ginormous steps as if I was stepping over huge boulders. This walk was more efficient than the previous and gave my neighbors something to marvel at.
Then I decided that I was not going to walk in a straight line. Well, actually I almost never walk in a straight line, but this time I was walking curvy on purpose. Dipping in and out of the sidewalk, walking in zigzags in the streets.
It was exhausting having so much fun.

Alien Abduction

Everyday has small, mundane moments, where the most menial of tasks are completed, frequently these tasks are considered "boring."
But is it not the little things in life that are the most enjoyable?
So why not make those little things more exciting?
For example: I was leaving a note for my parents to let them know I was going out shopping.

What is a typical letter would be:
 "Out shopping. Have cell phone. Shan't be late. Libby"

But the note I left for my parents was this:

"ATTENTION Parental Units Living in the 21st Century:
Future Libby has kidnapped your daughter, current Libby, to save the planet blork from the clutches of the evil Raisonzoids. Don't be alarmed, because of the law of flabbergat along with the calculations of the time differential concerning the space time continuum, she is in no danger of losing any years, nor will she be late. My ship, Star CCS 3000 has a cell phone tower so you can still use the old fashioned telephonic devices if you desire to reach her.
This mission is vitally important.
We need her genius or we will all perish.
Bleep Bloop.
Cyborg2324 singing off"

And that is where I left it. A bit vague? possibly...but answer me this, which note would you rather get?
Perhaps this should be my theme for the week: any moment that seems mundane I shall spice it up, make it interesting, make it fun! What's the point of living life if you can't enjoy the small moments.
This is the Libbinator signing off.

Uncomfortable with compliments

I am very uncomfortable with compliments. I wonder if this is a female thing. I have often heard some general female acquaintances complain that they don't get enough compliments from men/boyfriend/husband/parents etc. Yet when they do get compliments, then they scoff, say that it isn't true. Why is this?

Today, in one of my classes, my classmates had to read a paper that I wrote and then told me what they liked and what they thought I could work on. It was awful! I mean they liked it and said very good things about my writing, but I felt so uncomfortable. A spotlight was on me. My face seemed to contort and make really weird expressions. I can't smile too much because then it just looks like I am full of myself. Don't smile enough and I give the impression of a total prick!

  I am better at receiving compliments from men then I was originally. Before, I used to berate my ex-boyfriends, saying they didn't give enough compliments, only when he did I would sigh and roll my eye. Poor boy.
 He had to date me when I was just figuring out how to date.
It wasn't until one of my guy friends informed me how frustrating it was to compliment me, did I really make an effort to be more gracious in accepting compliments.

But today in class it was too much!

I guess I still have a lot to learn.

Veal

I am coming to a close in my school life and will soon have to go out into the dark, scary, cruel, adult world that is just lurking around the corner. Its times like these where I really envy veal.
I know it's not much of a life, just sitting in a box all day that is supposed to hinder your growth. All you do is just eat, sleep and defecate until a butcher chops you up for Veal Marsala. The end of life would be a fine dinner consumed by the wealthy. However there are days where I wish I didn't have to grow up. All day long I would just play outside, in the mud, catching worms and toads, and just lying down in the middle of grass and do absolutely nothing. I miss my coloring books, the smell of crayons, and the disgusting pleasure of a really good scab that I would pick at for days.
I just wish that my mom would have kept me in a small shack, blowing cigarette smoke at me, and would just never let me grow.
But she doesn't smoke.  
And we don't have a shack.
So it goes.
In theory this would be a wonderful life, but what would be the point?
I read this article (or maybe it was a short story) where the author talks about how we never lose an age, we just gain more. At certain times in your life, when you react to certain things or are around certain people, you act a certain age.
For example, I have known my best friend for about 18 years. Because I knew her as a kid, we resort to certain childlike tendencies. We never eat well, in fact we almost always eat junk food around each other. Then there was the instance where we bought silly putty and we walked around the mall laughing hysterically while we made farting sounds by kneading out fingers into the blob of goop. And that was only two years ago. So really I haven't grown up, not really. The scars on my knees are me when I was five, I hit my head and cry at the age of  seven, and I blush around boys as my thirteen year old self.
So maybe it was a good thing that I was not raised like a piece of veal.
And maybe it is cool that now I can drink, smoke, and don't really have an official bedtime.
Being an adult is cool I guess.
I will just be an adult that colors in coloring books.

Malapropisms

A malapropism is "the act or habit of misusing words ridiculously, especially by the confusion of words that are similar in sound." 

If you were to look this word up in the dictionary you would find a picture of me. I am the personification of a malapropism. My mom often jokes that my real father is Yogi Berra. Perhaps this is true.

Here are some of my more memorable malapropisms:

A friend of mine had frost bite in his index finger, but it wasn't too bad. It was a good thing he didn't have to have it abducted. (I meant amputated)

My mom and sisters were teasing me in the car. I told them to quit flapping their gams.(Gums)

I was bringing someone to my (now ex-) boyfriend's house. I warned her that his family had two laboratories. (Labradors, but it would be pretty cool if they had two laboratories)

In the springtime, the Mongolian trees look so pretty. (Magnolia trees, though I am sure Mongolian trees look cool too) 

My best friend drives a su-boob-aroo. (Subaru)

I wrote home to my family from camp telling them all about my friend Virgina. (Virginia. Leave out one i and you are telling a completely different story)

At the store I love to buy Moby Jack Cheese. (It's Colby Jack Cheese that is used to catch whales)

And Lazy Susans are so relaxing. (I really meant Lazy Boy)

There are more, these are the only ones that I can think of off the top of my head. Some are caused by my spelling errors, others by my lazy tongue, but most are caused by the sounds and letters getting jumbled up in my head.
I don't know why it happens, but it certainly keeps life interesting. They prove to be a very interesting conversation starter, "oh you will just never guess what I called my friend from camp..." 

Bits of Paper

As I journey through life, I will sometimes here phrases or quotes that I absolutely love. In the heat of the moment I often write these things down on whatever bits of paper I can find. The result is a desk drawer full of random strips of paper with the most bizarre phrases.
One, that I particularly loved, was said by my mother and it said, "Wouldn't it be great if we could pee for each other?" This was said in September 2011. My mom had just been in an accident that involved her rolling down a hill with her bike. She broke her sacrum top to bottom, her pelvis and her L4 vertebrae. She also had bruises all down her legs and a gash in her head that required six staples. Experiencing my mom while she was on pain medication and in a hospital bed for two months caused much tension in the household. On this particular day in September, I had just finished a busy day of classes followed by work and then home to do all our laundry and cook dinner. Let's say that I wasn't in the best of moods. Well, my mom needed me to help her get to the bathroom. With a deep, inward sigh, I made the slow procession with my mom to the bathroom. In the middle of my kitchen, half-way to the bathroom, she cried out "oh I don't think I can make it!" to which I replied, "Well you're going to have to!" We continued on, yet my mom was clearly in a lot of discomfort. Finally she looked at me and just asked "Wouldn't it be great if we could pee for each other?" Just the exchange of a glance and we were both in a fit of giggles as we meandered closer to our destination.
My mom has now had a hip replacement and is scheduled to have the other one done soon. A hospital bed in out dining room seems to be a recurring image.
But I like to remind her of all the charming things that she has said to while in the midst of these trials.
When I showed her the slip of paper she merely replied "Well wouldn't it?"
I guess I take going to the bathroom for granted.As well as the use of my legs, arms, and a staple-less head.
So my fellow readers take care, and enjoy a pleasant urination.