06.11.12

Monday Dare: Dumb as a sack of rocks

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. You can click on the link if you’d like to see the complete list of Monday Dares or learn more about its origin.

This week: Learn me a skill

I was 6 years old when I decided school wasn’t for me. I could sense the salty bitter disappointment of my teacher as she pointed in my direction during Morning Sing-Alongs. A little indignant, I always had the same response: Mrs. LeFever, WHAT DO YOU MEAN the middle of the alphabet song isn’t M-M-M-O-P?

The resentment built as I shuffled into class each day, forced to learn stupid shit like addition and manners, while my 4-year-old brother was at home watching the Snorks or tagging along with my mom to cool places like the dry cleaner and the DMV.

My parents were pissed when I notified them that I was dropping out. I could tell they were grasping at straws as they made one weak argument after another: “But you only started school last year!” and “How are you going to succeed in life if you only have a first grade education?”

PLEASE.

Even at the tender age of six, I already had all the essential skills to win at this thing called Life. I could pop the top off a can of delicious Spam. I knew my favorite treat from the ice cream truck required two big silver coins with ridges and one medium-sized silver coin with no ridges. I learned that calling 9-1-1 for fun and hanging up wasn’t such a good idea because people with guns would still show up at my house. Or that stamps from the Publishers Clearing House weren’t honored by the U.S. Postal Service.

Still, my parents argued that if I wanted to live in their home, I would have to go to school. This was a low blow because I knew that getting a place of my own would probably cost more than the nine dollars I had saved up in my Teddy Ruxpin Fund. Assholes. They knew how to work my weaknesses.

I stayed in school. I got a high school diploma. I even tried out college. But I never took any of it seriously. To this day, I have to count on my fingers and toes. If I’m wearing socks, I’m fucked.

I think I’m past the point of going back for a traditional degree, but I’d consider enrolling in a program to learn at least one marketable skill. Maybe I have a hidden talent with carburetors. Perhaps I’d be a great stenographer. Maybe I’ll get some goddamn coordination and become a certified aerobics instructor. Or I could walk around the shady part of town until I get jumped, become a gang member, and learn how to sell used electronics. The possibilities excite me.

Any suggestions for what skill I should pursue? What’s the most valuable course you’ve ever taken? Or, on the flip side,  a program you consider to be a waste?

P.S. Pro Travel Tip: If you’re in Germany and the hotel is being a stickler about bringing food back to your room from the free breakfast buffet, it’s probably not a good idea to complain loudly to your family, “God, I don’t understand why they’re being such Nazis about two croissants,” in front of the hotel staff. Just trust me. I’m always thinking about you guys and ways to make sure hotel people don’t spit on your toothbrush.

P.P.S. I post thoughtlessly insensitive things + funny pictures + thug life thoughts on the Flourish in Progress Facebook page. “Like” the page to see them in your news feed.

image via pinterest

 

June 11, 2012
06.04.12

Monday Dare: How much do new teeth cost?

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. You can click on the link if you’d like to see the complete list of Monday Dares or learn more about its origin.

This week: Just roll with it.

Being on an airplane is exactly like being in your own home except that there are more strangers milling around. Also, if you step out of your house, it’ll probably be okay, but if you step out of a plane, there’s a high likelihood you’re going to die. Another difference is that most houses don’t have wheels. Or wings. Unless you live in a trailer, but even then, no wings. I guess what I’m trying to say here is that being in your own home and being on a plane are two completely different experiences.

You heard it here first.

I read somewhere that if you veer even one degree off your path each day, before you know it, you’ll be going in the opposite direction. Yesterday, the first degree started with my toothbrush.

I meant to keep a toothbrush in my carry-on instead of packing it in the checked luggage so I could use it during the flight. I value excellent dental hygiene and brush after every meal. Sometimes, I brush my teeth because, fuck it, it’s fun. Too cheap to buy an extra toothbrush at the airport because they cost like 50 goddamn dollars, I convinced myself that it would probably cost less to buy a new set of teeth rather than spend that kind of cash on a toothbrush for one or two uses. Plus, the airport only had the cheap kind where all the bristles are the same height and the handle doesn’t even have rubber grip strips to ensure a satisfactory brushing experience. I’m not trying to be elitist or anything, but my mouth is accustomed to the gentle soothing vibrations of a Sonicare.

Since I felt like such a failure already, I decided not to do any items on my In-flight Task List. Instead, I spent a good two hours memorizing the lyrics to Snoop Dogg’s Lodi Dodi. The plane didn’t have internet, so I couldn’t look up the lyrics. Instead, I had to painstakingly record each word into a little notebook as I heard it. Here’s the thing: Rappers tend to rap faster than I can write, so I would catch a few words before Snoop outpaced me. I would then have to reset the song back to the beginning. In this way, I could double-check my progress and catch a few more words at the end. Rinse. Repeat.

The flight from LA to Frankfurt is 10 hours and 10 minutes. Since it took me nearly 2 hours to transcribe the song, I devoted roughly 20% of my flight to this endeavor.

Do I regret it? Not really.

A lot of people use their time, energy, and dedication to better themselves. Some go to college, others learn a skilled trade. As for me, I’m going to pretty much blow the lid off any karaoke bar I step into for the rest of my life.

I just want to have a normal trip like a normal person. Shit always happens and it makes me think that either I was really bad in another lifetime as a dog or a snake and I’m paying for it now (if I were Hindu), or maybe I’ve done something horrible in this lifetime to warrant such bad luck (karmic retribution), or maybe my grandfather or his father did something so bad that it traveled down the lineage to me (long distance karmic retribution), or maybe the devil is angry because I won’t give him my soul (Satanic-ism). I’m not sure I got all the belief systems/punishment combos correct or if Satanic-ism is even a real thing. All I’m trying to tell you is that I have Bad Vacation-ism.

Instead of letting the little things get under my skin, I’m going to stay focused on what’s most important this week: Making sure Cal has the time of her life. BAM. I’m such a good mom.Has anything funny/weird/disastrous happened to you while traveling?

P.S. Thank you so much for the travel tips last week. Y’all are beyond dope when it comes to steering me in the right direction

I NEED TO PICK A PEN NAME. AND I’M LETTING YOU DECIDE.

I’m about to burst because I want to tell you what it’s for, so I’ll let you know as soon as I can. In the meantime, I’d love for you to weigh in: Sha-Nasty (part of the name I would have chosen had I been a rap star), or Flo-Rish (I think this one is pretty self-explanatory).

“Like” the Flourish in Progress Facebook page to get the first word when I announce the site. I also post original content (pictures + thug life thoughts). (UPDATE 6/7: Just announced the site on the Flourish in Progress Facebook page.)

P.P.S. I couldn’t pick just ONE winner for the journal giveaway, so I picked TWO instead. Cindy Kang and James Taipale, please email me at flourishinprogress at gmail dot com with your address.

image via pinterest (Queensland Rail train etiquette parody poster)

June 4, 2012