Friday, June 28, 2013

pangaea

A car conversation:

Princess: Have you seen that weird commercial for manly Depends?
Sister: WHAT.
Princess: Yeah, they are like pads but for leaky gentlemen.
Sister: What! No. What? No.
Princess: I didn’t even know that was a thing.
Sister: Stop talking.
Princess: Wouldn’t it be better for a guy to just buy pads and pretend like they’re for his wife?
Sister: Ah, incontinence.
Princess: Is that what that word means? I have always wondered.
Sister: You’d think it’d be continence.
Princess: I guess continence means you have it all together. Oh! Like a continent!
Sister: Pangaea.
Princess: YES, OH MY GOSH I FORGOT ABOUT PANGAEA. I love Pangaea. Once the plate tectonics kicked in, Pangaea became incontinent.
Sister: What’s the point of the “in”?
Princess: Oh that means “not”—like “invisible” means not visible.
Sister: Inanimate, not animate.
Princess: Indivisible—
Sister: WITH LIBERTY AND JUSTICE FOR ALL!
Princess: Whatever, I bet you don’t even remember the pledge.
Sister: I pledge allegiance to the flag and to the …. Something for which it stands.
Princess: I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America. And to the republic
Sister: For which it stands! One nation indivisible with liberty and justice for all.
Princess: One nation UNDER GOD—the Baptists would kill you for that—with liberty and justice for all.
Sister: Okay, okay, sorry.
Princess: It’s okay. I only remember because I have to say it in homeroom every day, but even then I’m sometimes too sleepy to remember and have to watermelon it.
Sister: I know the whole “Star-Spangled Banner.”
Princess: Prove it.

Princess and Sister sing the entire national anthem, complete with solid (a.k.a. iffy) harmonies and Whitney Houston-inspired ending. They finish, and there is silence for about 10 seconds.

Princess: So… how did we end up singing?
Sister: Incontinence, continent, Pangaea, the prefix in-, indivisible, pledge of allegiance, “Star-Spangled Banner.”
Princess: Oh.

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

stream-of-consciousness

Letters. Commas. The Oxford comma. I LOVE the Oxford comma. I love commas. My comma t-shirt is upstairs. Best t-shirt. Comma, comma, coma. Misspell comma, have a coma. A comma coma. A food coma. Yum, food, Chick-fil-a. Get a salad at Chick-fil-a next time. NO DON’T DO THAT. Eat more greens. Green-eaters are annoying. Ugh why does everyone grow their own bell peppers? Bell peppers, bell, belfry. Bats in the belfry? What is a belfry? Why is that phrase in my brain? Why are the bats in the belfry? GET THEM OUT. Sheep. Amanda Bynes. Amanda Bynes. Amanda Bynes. She’s really in a byn-d. Not a good pun. Raise the bar for your puns! Worst pun ever: punny. Ironically not funny. But some not funny stuff is funny? Like when that umbrella hit the old lady on the head. It was bad to laugh at that. But it was funny. Still funny. It was umbreally funny. No. Funny bunny, funny bunny. Somebunny loves you. Easter humor is not egg-cellent. I hate egg jokes. I hate everyone. Not sheep, I love sheep. Love Amanda Bynes, always forever. Amanda Bynes. Amanda Bynes. Amanda Bynes. So upset about Amanda Bynes. Get well soon and make a romantic comedy I can memorize. Ugh but not Nicholas Sparks. Hate Nicholas Sparks, that manipulative fishmonger. Fishmonger? No explanation. Fish fish, fishy wish. Wish on a fish. Slippery fish. Can’t catch a fish with your hands, those are slippery fellows. Can’t catch a ball with your hands. Other people can, but you can’t. Sometimes can’t even high-five people. Bad hand-eye coordination. Thus hated softball, drew my name in the dirt. Can’t catch, love to doodle. Softball is my nemesis. Also can’t wink! Want to wink, but dislike winkers. Ironic. Miley Cyrus, white spandex. Wow, I love sheep. Feel bad for saying I hate Nicholas Sparks. He’s probably really nice. Wish I could text my dogs. Amanda Bynes.

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

the closet

When I was 16 I went on a mission trip to Honduras. For the first time I encountered true poverty, and when I came home, I took one glance at my closet and cried. Why was I so blessed when others weren’t? I let myself feel good about being so tenderhearted to the plight of the poor and then forgot to do anything about it. This cycle has repeated itself about four or five times in my life. It goes like this: Minister to kids who don’t own shoes, feel bad about my own shoe collection, realize I need a pair of cognac boots ("they go with everything"), buy more shoes. (Now I'm not an idiot--I know that me buying shoes didn't rob a poor Honduran child of shoes, but it's easy to forget that Jesus calls us to minister to "the least of these" in the midst of accumulation.)

Now I’m 26, and I own 404 items of clothing. 404. Four hundred and four. FOURHUNDREDANDFOUR. No really, I COUNTED THEM AND THERE WERE 404. Also, I’m bad at math (i.e. counting and adding), so let’s assume I’m stupid and round up to 410. (Even numbers are friendly.) Four hundred and ten. FOURHUNDREDANDTEN.

A few things you should know about me before I continue:
  1. I loooooove clothes, but if ever accused of shopping too much (HUSBAND!!!) I have an arsenal of defense tactics:
  2. -The “Cheap Stuff Doesn’t Count” Argument: “I am a bargain shopper. NO ONE else in the WORLD has gotten a sweater for 89 cents. EIGHTY NIGHT CENTS!!!!” (That is a true story, and I brag about it bi-weekly. Keep in mind this post is not about pride but about sacrifice. I CAN’T DO IT ALL.) Bottom line: “I get good deals, and that makes it okay.”
    -The “I Am Better by Comparison” Argument: “Here is a list of people who shop more than I do…”
    -The “Fuzzy Meaning of Necessity” Argument: “I can’t wear any of the tan shoes I own with that skirt because my wedges make the skirt look too short and the flats make my legs look too short, okay? This was necessary.”
    -The Snowball Argument: “I didn’t have anything to go with those pants, so I had to get this top. And the thing about the top is that it makes the pants seem dressier, so the shoes I wanted to wear with the pants originally don’t quite go, so I had to get these shoes.” Then, revert back to argument 1: “But I used a coupon, so I got a great deal!”
    -To all arguments, add this: “If you don’t like it, I can take it back.” (This induces guilt or invites laziness, so the odds of a take-back are low.)                                   Do I mean to be this manipulative? Of course not. But I’m starting to see these tactics for what they are: manipulations and rationalizations designed to get me what I want—STUFF.
  3. Clothes make me feel good about myself. If I have on the right outfit, I’m aware of my own awesomeness. If I don’t have on the right outfit, I’m uncomfortable. Sometimes I’m so uncomfortable that I end up going shopping until I find something that reminds me that I’m original, pretty, and put-together. I don’t like this about myself.
  4. I am a bandwagoner. I looooove to be obsessed with stuff, and I am not snobby about my obsessions. The one time I did try to be a snob and go to the Justin Bieber movie “because it would be so funny,” I left the movie as a screaming superfan. I have since attended his concert wearing a glitterized Bieber Fever t-shirts. (Yes, this shirt was counted along with the other ~410 items.) I am Team Jacob, I am Team Gale, I am Team Please-Give-Me-Another-Book-To-Obsess-Over.
  5. Jen Hatmaker gave me a book to obsess over: 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess. This is not the kind of book I typically purchase (I am all about novels and tend to skim over anything that’s not narrative), but I read it because I already knew her blog was really funny and irreverent, a friend recommended it, and the cover looked cool. Please be impressed by what a well-informed reader I am.
  6. I am a pack rat with no idea how to de-clutter myself. My friend Haley once told me, “I was carrying a lot of stuff the other day, and I felt like you.” Haley and I are no longer friends. This packratness (I make up words, deal with it) is what drew me to the title of Jen’s book in the first place. I long to be a minimalist while also refusing to be a minimalist, and the conflicting voices give me headaches. “Tell me what to do, Jen!” So I read the book. The book led me to the Bible like the best books do.
Reading passages like The Rich Young Ruler with fresh eyes is changing my insides. I’m just hoping that I let it change my outsides the way I’ve refused to do so many times in my life. So the plan is to cut my closet in half. To take the horrid number 410 and make it 205 (still a ridiculously high number, but BABY STEPS PEOPLE). Will the glittery Bieber shirt make the cut? I JUST DON'T KNOW.

So will I be able to do it? I don’t know. Husband says, “I don’t want you to do this and then in 6 months freak out because you ‘don’t have anything to wear.’” But that’s the point, isn’t it? To bring myself to a point of discomfort? To sacrifice in a way that hurts? Earlier in the summer I cleaned the stuff I no longer liked. Now I want to clean out stuff that I still like. Because the impoverished and disadvantaged deserve better than my reject pile. Because I need to prove to myself that I don’t need it. I need to find my value elsewhere. I need to remember when it hurts that the majority of the world lacks what I have in abundance. I need to think about what Mark 10:21 actually means for my life (especially since I've been pretending like it doesn't apply to me since I'm not "rich"...a.k.a. "I know other people who have more money"):



So I’m going to start tackling it now, and I wanted to post this for accountability. If I tell people, I have to follow through, right?

Saturday, June 8, 2013

chop

Aw dang you guys will NOT BELIEVE THIS. We have gotten our fur totes chopped off and now we are pink and naked. Naked as a jaybird, our mom tells us. She says, “Do not go outside for a long time without sunscreen, or you will get a sunburn” and we were like “it’ll turn into a tan, Mom” and she was like “that is not a real thing you dogs better listen.” She’s so annoying. Another prob is that we do not know which one of us is which. We had this issue previously, but now it is way more confusing because we are both skinny pink nightmares without any distinguishing fluff. Even our dad is a little worried that when our hair grows back they will realize that they’ve been calling us the wrong name, so Mom was like “DO NOT PLAY PARENT TRAP WITH US!” and we were like LINDSEY LOHAN LOLZ! 

So why did we have to get our fur sheared like silly dog sheep? BECAUSE our mom says she was a “bad dog mom” and did not know we needed to be groomed. We also have noticed that she is in the habit of ignoring her own hair, so we were not surprised when we also got unbelievable fluffy. And we did not really mind because it was waaaay cushy, but we were getting tired of looking like sk8r boys. AVRIL LOLZ!

Anyway, she took us to the groomer finally, and they were like WHOA WHOA THIS IS INSANE FLUFF we must get it all off! And Mom was like “oh no I’m sad, but do what needs to be done, and also can we make the fur into a sweater” and the groomer was like “no.” 

So the groomer chopped all of our Rapunzel locks off and we were like “oh no now we can’t sing and make our magical hair heal people” and our groomer was like “pipe down” and we were like “UGH WE HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE DON’T GET OUR JOKES!” When we came out of the groomer, our mom was like, “WUT who are these guys?” She didn’t even know it was us and neither did Aunt Adeline!! And we were like “GURL ITZ US! WE GOT SO SKINNY! BEST DIET EVS!” NO for realz we lost like 57 pounds of hair and our mom is jealous because she remains frizzy. Lay off, Mom!!!!!!!!!! 

We get to sit on the couch because we are skinny and our parents feel guilty! LOLZ!


Mom says she is proud of us because we were good at the groomer and never got embarrassed about our new buzz cut (probs because it is WAY COOL). Mom says our self esteem is waaaaay high even though we look as she says, “ridonkulous.” We do not know what “ridonkulous” means, but it sounds hilar and we are soooooo happy because we can SEE EVERYTHING!!! Thanks goodness we do not look like sk8r boys anymore! With our new bandanas from the groomer we are skinny hipsters! We like to listen to Mumford and Sons! KEWL! Mom was like “YUH but I can see your skin, so you look weird and pink” and we were like “IT’S SALMON YOU NEVER UNDERSTAND US GAHHHH” and she was like “ugh teenagers.” 

K WE G2G BYE!!! We hope you like our blog!!!!!

A close-up on Uzi's before and after