browneyes20
WOW
AWESOME. Thank you!
Holy Mother of Fudge. The Geeks went back!!!
- Thread starter Geek
- Start date
Geek
New Member
Chapter 31
I find when I think about Poppy I can’t change is to was. I can’t make the transition that good sense dictates. John Hugh can’t have been. He can’t be in the past tense.
Maybe other people can. But other people did not live life with such relish. If people have flames that flicker and sputter out at the end of their time, Poppy had lava, that refuses to obey any rules. He knocks down walls, burns a path that could never be ignored. He leaves a legacy so strong it becomes part of the landscape. If he touched your life, you won’t forget it.
Lucky enough to be called a friend? Well, that was a treasure that would never lose its sparkle.
But if he loved you.
But if he loved you.
Then close your eyes and know, deep inside where your heart settles right next to your soul, he is right there.
You are chartered with a job. A job to take each day, and do something to celebrate being here.
Sing. Out loud.
Dance. To every song.
Laugh. Until you are gasping and crying.
Love. Like you will never leave.
If you are not having a good damn time, it’s your own damn fault.
Can’t Make Is to Was
I find when I think about Poppy I can’t change is to was. I can’t make the transition that good sense dictates. John Hugh can’t have been. He can’t be in the past tense.
Maybe other people can. But other people did not live life with such relish. If people have flames that flicker and sputter out at the end of their time, Poppy had lava, that refuses to obey any rules. He knocks down walls, burns a path that could never be ignored. He leaves a legacy so strong it becomes part of the landscape. If he touched your life, you won’t forget it.
Lucky enough to be called a friend? Well, that was a treasure that would never lose its sparkle.
But if he loved you.
But if he loved you.
Then close your eyes and know, deep inside where your heart settles right next to your soul, he is right there.
You are chartered with a job. A job to take each day, and do something to celebrate being here.
Sing. Out loud.
Dance. To every song.
Laugh. Until you are gasping and crying.
Love. Like you will never leave.
If you are not having a good damn time, it’s your own damn fault.
Geek
New Member
Geek
New Member
Chapter 32 Chin Hairs and Dead Hamsters
Yesterday morning, I got to see one of the fun tricks being 34 plays on you. I spied that apparently overnight, four longish chin hairs had decided to make an appearance. So, I started my hunt. For my good tweezers.
After years of plucking stray eyebrow hairs with a poorly designed pair, I had bought expensive tweezers. By expensive I mean over $3, but under $5.
The old pair of pluckers was the worst design ever. They had the rounded edges. The design team of crappy tweezers must have sat around trying to replicate the sensation of using two newborn baby’s tiny fists to grab a hair. Slippery, inaccurate, and frustrating.
After cursing a blue streak at them one day, I realized there must be a better design. And made a mental note to grab a nice pair next time I was at the store.
Two years after that, I remembered to buy them. My mental notes are like throwing a message in a bottle at the seashore. You have no idea when they will find you.
So I purchased the high-class pluckers, for high class random hairs. They were like two razor blades sodered onto a sleek pincer. I came home and waged war on my facial hair. Anything that glinted in my harsh bathroom light was whipped away. I went overboard. Who knew that some of the hair on your face denotes personality and expression?
I stepped away from my overzealous pluck mania. I was surprised. My face was as smooth as a newly painted wall. I stopped feeling surprised, but my face refused to calm down.
Too much, I had plucked too much of my eyebrows.
For about the next two weeks, I spent much of my time explaining to the other humans I encountered that I was ok. I was not just back from witnessing a ghost. I was not carrying a pile of tacks in my underwear.
By the time the eyebrows had resumed their shape, I had lost my new tweezers/razors. Maybe it was divine intervention.
I went back to the trusty newborn baby fist pluckers.
Because I was now too stubborn to go out and replace the expensive tweezers.
When the errant, offensive 34 year old chin hairs alarmed me in the mirror, I began the hunt. For the tweezers. Preferably, the ones that meant business. I could recall the smoothness that they had inflicted on me. While searching, I could not help but keep on stroking the new hairs like Col. Sanders thinking about fried chicken.
The hairs were so corse. I kept peeking in the mirror while ransacking my bathroom cabinet.
Oh My Dog! One of the four hairs is black! Black! I feel like my chin is giving me the finger. What kind of crazy hormone is turning one chin hair black?
I give up on finding the fabulous, lethal razor tweezers, the Angelina Jolie of pluckers, if you will. I start searching for the baby fist tweezers.
Anything will do!
I feel like there is a spotlight on my chin now. If I don’t get them plucked soon, they will turn into a full-fledged goatee. Baby fists are missing too.
Geek is ready to loose her plucking mind.
I spy out of my panicked eye, the toenail clippers. I seize them and run into my bedroom so I can get real close to the mirror.
Plucking chin hairs with a toenail clipper is tricky business. I wish I could say I have no experience with using toenail clippers for unconventional things, but you know and I know, I can’t.
Sometimes, I use them for scissors. Little, tiny inaccurate scissors.
So I line up the clippers and the hair. I bite my bottom lip and stick my chin out like Jay Leno. I close one eye.
TGS walks in and sees me.
TGS wisely walks right out again without saying anything.
I focus back on the hair. I try and pluck just before I clip. Because if I cut them, well, then I will just be trimming them back some. And that does not teach the hairs a lesson at all. Actually, trimming them makes them feel special and loved.
Turns out trying to judge the exact thickness of a chin hair is kind of hard. I wound up trimming them. Like a hedge. Or a Christmas tree.
Somebody remind me to buy expensive clippers again before the hair grows back.
Well, maybe I should talk about Disney.
Geek and DD were waiting for our boys to return from their trip on Soarin’. I had apologized to DD for being very unPrincess like to her. One of the things I love about TGS is that he insured that DS had a great ride despite his mother and sister having to leave. When we were all reunited, we knew it was time to leave. The party was over. Our Van was packed with all our things. We had checked out of POP Century hours before.
We still had an obscene amount of credit left on the various dining plans available to us. We headed into the Electric Umbrella. As we walked in, we were informed that they were closing. My very unDisney response was “Of course you are!” complete with the throwing of hands in the air.
The ending was turning into a bookend of the beginning of our trip.
Remember as we arrived in Disney we had the glitter in the jellybag incident?
Well, here at the end, we seemed to be running into the kicking you in the Jiggler on your way out incident.
First Soarin’ turning into a fiasco for some of us, and now we seemed to be flushing the rest of our dinning credits down a super flushing Disney toilet.
Deep, cleansing breaths. We are leaving Epcot. Our backs turned to the World Showcase, headed towards the big ball. I am looking down at the glowing bits of magical sidewalk, remembering the kids playing at night with their imagination and these very slabs of concrete.
No one likes leaving Disney. I like leaving Disney with a sour taste in my mouth even less.
And all of a sudden the sky lights up like Santa combusting with the dawn. The Geeks turn around to realize that they happened to be the perfect distance from the fireworks. Plenty close to see the little flecks of sparkle from each stream of light, but not close enough that the crack from the detention makes you pee a little.
All the people around us stop and turn as well.
Fireworks. Pretty explosions. I love that we are all simple enough to turn around for a moment, and be delighted. Did you ever notice you don’t think a lot during fireworks? Just a few words maybe.
Kids.
Happy.
Together.
Just a few words are enough to put a tear in your eye, and then you turn your face towards the smoky sky and wait. Wait for what is next to see.
So we huddled together and watched Disney’s goodbye.
We walked out of the park. Head back to the overstuffed van, buckle everyone in.
We are ready to go when it happens.
Geek gets an idea. She turns to TGS.
Me~ “Hey, POP Century’s food court is open until 12:00 a.m.”
TGS raises an eyebrow.
Me~ “Maybe they will let us in to use up our credits there?”
Now, we had checked out.
We had said our goodbyes.
What would retracing the walk of shame be like?
Well, it turns out it is like burying your beloved pet hamster. And then digging that poor sucker up and popping his carcass in his exercise ball for one more quick trip down the stairs.
Up Next: What does it feel like to rip the bandage off the wound too soon? Will the Geeks even get back in to POP?
Yesterday morning, I got to see one of the fun tricks being 34 plays on you. I spied that apparently overnight, four longish chin hairs had decided to make an appearance. So, I started my hunt. For my good tweezers.
After years of plucking stray eyebrow hairs with a poorly designed pair, I had bought expensive tweezers. By expensive I mean over $3, but under $5.
The old pair of pluckers was the worst design ever. They had the rounded edges. The design team of crappy tweezers must have sat around trying to replicate the sensation of using two newborn baby’s tiny fists to grab a hair. Slippery, inaccurate, and frustrating.
After cursing a blue streak at them one day, I realized there must be a better design. And made a mental note to grab a nice pair next time I was at the store.
Two years after that, I remembered to buy them. My mental notes are like throwing a message in a bottle at the seashore. You have no idea when they will find you.
So I purchased the high-class pluckers, for high class random hairs. They were like two razor blades sodered onto a sleek pincer. I came home and waged war on my facial hair. Anything that glinted in my harsh bathroom light was whipped away. I went overboard. Who knew that some of the hair on your face denotes personality and expression?
I stepped away from my overzealous pluck mania. I was surprised. My face was as smooth as a newly painted wall. I stopped feeling surprised, but my face refused to calm down.
Too much, I had plucked too much of my eyebrows.
For about the next two weeks, I spent much of my time explaining to the other humans I encountered that I was ok. I was not just back from witnessing a ghost. I was not carrying a pile of tacks in my underwear.
By the time the eyebrows had resumed their shape, I had lost my new tweezers/razors. Maybe it was divine intervention.
I went back to the trusty newborn baby fist pluckers.
Because I was now too stubborn to go out and replace the expensive tweezers.
When the errant, offensive 34 year old chin hairs alarmed me in the mirror, I began the hunt. For the tweezers. Preferably, the ones that meant business. I could recall the smoothness that they had inflicted on me. While searching, I could not help but keep on stroking the new hairs like Col. Sanders thinking about fried chicken.
The hairs were so corse. I kept peeking in the mirror while ransacking my bathroom cabinet.
Oh My Dog! One of the four hairs is black! Black! I feel like my chin is giving me the finger. What kind of crazy hormone is turning one chin hair black?
I give up on finding the fabulous, lethal razor tweezers, the Angelina Jolie of pluckers, if you will. I start searching for the baby fist tweezers.
Anything will do!
I feel like there is a spotlight on my chin now. If I don’t get them plucked soon, they will turn into a full-fledged goatee. Baby fists are missing too.
Geek is ready to loose her plucking mind.
I spy out of my panicked eye, the toenail clippers. I seize them and run into my bedroom so I can get real close to the mirror.
Plucking chin hairs with a toenail clipper is tricky business. I wish I could say I have no experience with using toenail clippers for unconventional things, but you know and I know, I can’t.
Sometimes, I use them for scissors. Little, tiny inaccurate scissors.
So I line up the clippers and the hair. I bite my bottom lip and stick my chin out like Jay Leno. I close one eye.
TGS walks in and sees me.
TGS wisely walks right out again without saying anything.
I focus back on the hair. I try and pluck just before I clip. Because if I cut them, well, then I will just be trimming them back some. And that does not teach the hairs a lesson at all. Actually, trimming them makes them feel special and loved.
Turns out trying to judge the exact thickness of a chin hair is kind of hard. I wound up trimming them. Like a hedge. Or a Christmas tree.
Somebody remind me to buy expensive clippers again before the hair grows back.
Well, maybe I should talk about Disney.
Geek and DD were waiting for our boys to return from their trip on Soarin’. I had apologized to DD for being very unPrincess like to her. One of the things I love about TGS is that he insured that DS had a great ride despite his mother and sister having to leave. When we were all reunited, we knew it was time to leave. The party was over. Our Van was packed with all our things. We had checked out of POP Century hours before.
We still had an obscene amount of credit left on the various dining plans available to us. We headed into the Electric Umbrella. As we walked in, we were informed that they were closing. My very unDisney response was “Of course you are!” complete with the throwing of hands in the air.
The ending was turning into a bookend of the beginning of our trip.
Remember as we arrived in Disney we had the glitter in the jellybag incident?
Well, here at the end, we seemed to be running into the kicking you in the Jiggler on your way out incident.
First Soarin’ turning into a fiasco for some of us, and now we seemed to be flushing the rest of our dinning credits down a super flushing Disney toilet.
Deep, cleansing breaths. We are leaving Epcot. Our backs turned to the World Showcase, headed towards the big ball. I am looking down at the glowing bits of magical sidewalk, remembering the kids playing at night with their imagination and these very slabs of concrete.
No one likes leaving Disney. I like leaving Disney with a sour taste in my mouth even less.
And all of a sudden the sky lights up like Santa combusting with the dawn. The Geeks turn around to realize that they happened to be the perfect distance from the fireworks. Plenty close to see the little flecks of sparkle from each stream of light, but not close enough that the crack from the detention makes you pee a little.
All the people around us stop and turn as well.
Fireworks. Pretty explosions. I love that we are all simple enough to turn around for a moment, and be delighted. Did you ever notice you don’t think a lot during fireworks? Just a few words maybe.
Kids.
Happy.
Together.
Just a few words are enough to put a tear in your eye, and then you turn your face towards the smoky sky and wait. Wait for what is next to see.
So we huddled together and watched Disney’s goodbye.
We walked out of the park. Head back to the overstuffed van, buckle everyone in.
We are ready to go when it happens.
Geek gets an idea. She turns to TGS.
Me~ “Hey, POP Century’s food court is open until 12:00 a.m.”
TGS raises an eyebrow.
Me~ “Maybe they will let us in to use up our credits there?”
Now, we had checked out.
We had said our goodbyes.
What would retracing the walk of shame be like?
Well, it turns out it is like burying your beloved pet hamster. And then digging that poor sucker up and popping his carcass in his exercise ball for one more quick trip down the stairs.
Up Next: What does it feel like to rip the bandage off the wound too soon? Will the Geeks even get back in to POP?
Don't leave us hanging too long!!
Geek
New Member
Chapter 33
One ply Toilet paper. Wow. You didn’t know you could still buy it right? Well, guess what?
I bought a whole sackful of it at Wal Mart. I have been using toilet paper for as long as I can remember, but I never developed a preference. A favorite team, if you will. I never sat there and thought, “Now, this is the paper for me!” Like you do sometimes with sodas or nail polish. Or men.
I have noticed that sometimes T.P. can be dusty. Which is weird. I have noticed that some times the roll seems a little skimpy. It is good for two number ones and one number two.
I think the dancing bear and his cub are cute with their little tushies. But I can’t remember if that is a brand is any good.
Some of it is so gosh darn expensive. Is there a little leprechaun tucked in the cardboard roll? Does he grant your every wish if you can catch him?
So, I grabbed a sack and threw it in my cart. When this one ply brand first made its appearance on our dispenser, it looked good.
Not dusty.
Not overly quilted.
Not too skimpy.
It had promise.
Until I tried to use it.
One Ply. Seriously? Is there any job involving your situation that would only require one ply? A dainty dumper? I guess it is possible.
When winding up the one ply, I had trouble shaking the impression that I was using cotton candy to get the job done.
It was wimpy. I would imagine that this type of paper would be great in prisons. We are, after all, punishing those people for crap’s sake.
Butt, Wal Mart sells it. And I bought it. I can’t remember the name of it, so I am going to assume that I will buy it again.
The other thing that I noticed is that my horrible cocker spaniel is a sucker. She steals anything that is in a crinkly sealed package (think fruit chews or granola bar) and hides with it. She stuffs it in her giant mupplet paws and pastes the guiltiest look you have ever seen on her bear-like face. She sucks on the package. Trying to get to the treats through some sort of absorption method. She has yet to figure out that she can bite right into the package to achieve her goal.
She is so weird.
So back to Disney.
Back to Pop.
Back to eating.
Because we don’t want to leave one stinking dining credit unused.
TGS explained our dilemma to the guy that lives in the little gatehouse with the clipboard. He sees the beauty in our little evil plan, so he waves us in.
We park in the losers’ lot. Didn’t know about the losers’ lot? It’s the what the check-in parking turns into when you are not checking in, or even having the good sense to be checking out.
We get out. The walk of shame is bad enough. Packing up all your stinking stuff and all the crazy nutmare full of souvenirs that you couldn’t live without. It hurts.
But this going back. All packed up, Parks closed behind you, to the hotel you called home. Well, that is just like dipping a cut in vinegar and then putting salt on it.
Remember the Hamster analogy? The digging up your dead hamster and giving on more roll down the stairs in the exercise ball?
Well. It’s just like that. Sad. Bouncy. And a little funny.
Or worse yet. Flushing a pet fish Swimmy down the toilet and then having the funeral back up on you. Grabbing the nearby plunger and attacking the backup with the ferociousness of a woman possessed. With sweet Swimmy getting sucked violently in and out, disappearing and appearing like a little, tiny David Blaine lived in the pipes of the toilet. While the kids watch in horror.
That fish story is obviously too ridiculous to really have occurred in any loving Mother’s home. And defiantly not mine.
So we were Swimmy . The dining credits were our plunger. We were getting sucked in and out of Pop.
The kids are confused. Are we going to spring a super secret extra few nights on them?
“No, Virginia, there is no extra Disney time.” We were just torturing them. We walked back into the POP food court. I ordered another chicken encrusted in something wonderful. TGS had something he liked, the kids each got a full meal. We grabbed enough prepackaged snacks to get rid of those credits.
We sat in a huge booth. And we sucked on our food. Just like our horrible Spaniel. With the same look on our faces.
We finished up our last bite of Disney. Funny how those snacks didn’t taste nearly as good when we were off property. I think Disney loads them with the same dye they put in the bank robbers sack of money. Exploding all the yummyness out of it as soon as you see regular green road signs again.
The kids were tucked in their seats. No Tinkerbell farts. No happy presents. TGS and I start reminiscing about our trip. We start talking about me writing this very trip report. We make plans to come again.
The toilet was finally flushed . The hamster, finally buried.
The good news for us is that we still had a few days with Grandma and Grandpa in their retirement community, which is more like a cruise then anything else. They have so many pools and hot tubs it is insulting to those of us that are still working.
Up Next Summary and Review. What have we learned from Holy Mother of Fudge!
One ply Toilet paper. Wow. You didn’t know you could still buy it right? Well, guess what?
I bought a whole sackful of it at Wal Mart. I have been using toilet paper for as long as I can remember, but I never developed a preference. A favorite team, if you will. I never sat there and thought, “Now, this is the paper for me!” Like you do sometimes with sodas or nail polish. Or men.
I have noticed that sometimes T.P. can be dusty. Which is weird. I have noticed that some times the roll seems a little skimpy. It is good for two number ones and one number two.
I think the dancing bear and his cub are cute with their little tushies. But I can’t remember if that is a brand is any good.
Some of it is so gosh darn expensive. Is there a little leprechaun tucked in the cardboard roll? Does he grant your every wish if you can catch him?
So, I grabbed a sack and threw it in my cart. When this one ply brand first made its appearance on our dispenser, it looked good.
Not dusty.
Not overly quilted.
Not too skimpy.
It had promise.
Until I tried to use it.
One Ply. Seriously? Is there any job involving your situation that would only require one ply? A dainty dumper? I guess it is possible.
When winding up the one ply, I had trouble shaking the impression that I was using cotton candy to get the job done.
It was wimpy. I would imagine that this type of paper would be great in prisons. We are, after all, punishing those people for crap’s sake.
Butt, Wal Mart sells it. And I bought it. I can’t remember the name of it, so I am going to assume that I will buy it again.
The other thing that I noticed is that my horrible cocker spaniel is a sucker. She steals anything that is in a crinkly sealed package (think fruit chews or granola bar) and hides with it. She stuffs it in her giant mupplet paws and pastes the guiltiest look you have ever seen on her bear-like face. She sucks on the package. Trying to get to the treats through some sort of absorption method. She has yet to figure out that she can bite right into the package to achieve her goal.
She is so weird.
So back to Disney.
Back to Pop.
Back to eating.
Because we don’t want to leave one stinking dining credit unused.
TGS explained our dilemma to the guy that lives in the little gatehouse with the clipboard. He sees the beauty in our little evil plan, so he waves us in.
We park in the losers’ lot. Didn’t know about the losers’ lot? It’s the what the check-in parking turns into when you are not checking in, or even having the good sense to be checking out.
We get out. The walk of shame is bad enough. Packing up all your stinking stuff and all the crazy nutmare full of souvenirs that you couldn’t live without. It hurts.
But this going back. All packed up, Parks closed behind you, to the hotel you called home. Well, that is just like dipping a cut in vinegar and then putting salt on it.
Remember the Hamster analogy? The digging up your dead hamster and giving on more roll down the stairs in the exercise ball?
Well. It’s just like that. Sad. Bouncy. And a little funny.
Or worse yet. Flushing a pet fish Swimmy down the toilet and then having the funeral back up on you. Grabbing the nearby plunger and attacking the backup with the ferociousness of a woman possessed. With sweet Swimmy getting sucked violently in and out, disappearing and appearing like a little, tiny David Blaine lived in the pipes of the toilet. While the kids watch in horror.
That fish story is obviously too ridiculous to really have occurred in any loving Mother’s home. And defiantly not mine.
So we were Swimmy . The dining credits were our plunger. We were getting sucked in and out of Pop.
The kids are confused. Are we going to spring a super secret extra few nights on them?
“No, Virginia, there is no extra Disney time.” We were just torturing them. We walked back into the POP food court. I ordered another chicken encrusted in something wonderful. TGS had something he liked, the kids each got a full meal. We grabbed enough prepackaged snacks to get rid of those credits.
We sat in a huge booth. And we sucked on our food. Just like our horrible Spaniel. With the same look on our faces.
We finished up our last bite of Disney. Funny how those snacks didn’t taste nearly as good when we were off property. I think Disney loads them with the same dye they put in the bank robbers sack of money. Exploding all the yummyness out of it as soon as you see regular green road signs again.
The kids were tucked in their seats. No Tinkerbell farts. No happy presents. TGS and I start reminiscing about our trip. We start talking about me writing this very trip report. We make plans to come again.
The toilet was finally flushed . The hamster, finally buried.
The good news for us is that we still had a few days with Grandma and Grandpa in their retirement community, which is more like a cruise then anything else. They have so many pools and hot tubs it is insulting to those of us that are still working.
Up Next Summary and Review. What have we learned from Holy Mother of Fudge!
Geek
New Member
belvak
Happy Camper
browneyes20
WOW
As always awesome. I loved every minute of it! Thank you for taking the time out of your life to write and post this you have an amaing talent!