my random rambling

I’m not a Murder…I’m Just a Writer

It’s a commonly known fact that writer’s search history is often…sketchy. We often have to research things like stab wounds, ways to poison people, and how to break into the white house just so our story can be accurate. Well since I haven’t posted in a little while and I needed an idea, I thought I would share some of the weirdest things me and my co-author have ever searched.

  1. Hair gel pranks. Explanation: In one of our early drafts two of our main characters were playing a prank on a classmate by replacing his hair gel with pine sap but as time progressed we realized that pine sap wasn’t all the realistic of a substitute. What did we do? We googled it! We searched the internet and our brains for a better option and changed the substance from super glue to vaseline to mayo before we decided we could do without the scene.
  2. Statue of Liberty security system. Explanation: In one of our earliest drafts we were planning to have our three main characters break into to Statue of Liberty but we needed to figure out the best way to do it so for a while it was our obsession to figure out the best way to break in undetected.
  3. First-time nose piercing. Explanation: Very recently we decided that the character who recently broke his nose should get a nose piercing and that in order to know how it is done and how painful it could be we needed to watch some videos.
  4. Pictures of red haired freckled teen guys. Explanation: We needed a picture of a character we invented so we temporarily became stalkers.
  5. International Giraffe Convention. Explanation: A character was on the spot and needed and excuse so he used this and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was a real thing.
  6. Exploring sewer systems. Explanation: At one point our characters lose something in the sewer and one of them goes down into to get it back so we thought it would be good to see what it was like.
my random rambling

We Put the Fun in Dysfunctional: Tales of my Not-so-Normal Family Part 5

If you take a four-month-old baby, mix it with a particularly unobservant father, and then add some cat toys, disaster will strike. Don’t believe me or understand how one might come to this conclusion? Keep reading.

I was four months old. My mom had to go out of town for the weekend. My dad was supposed to watch me. My mom left, hoping my dad would realize how hard it was to take care of a four-month-old and more than happy to get away, even if she was a little worried that things wouldn’t run like clock-work.  Well, odd as if may seem, when she returned, my dad informed her that everything had run smoothly and that watching me had been easy. Of course my mom was surprised since she knew for a fact watching a child of such an age was by no means easy. It wasn’t until the following Monday that she found out why it had been so easy and when she did her horrification was extreme.

My mom noticed one of our cat’s toys on the floor and normally wouldn’t have given it a second glance but there was something special about this particular fur mouse. The fur was gone and the mouse utterly bald. Like the fur had been sucked off with a passion.

“Eww, one of the cats must have sucked the fur off of this,” she said to my dad.

“Yeah, or Penny,” he replied. Yes, that’s right, my dad had kept me busy all weekend by letting me suck the (real) rabbit fur off of the cat’s toys.

my random rambling

We Put the Fun in Dysfunctional: Tales of my Not-so-Normal Family Part 4

A lot of people are under the impression that guys can’t cook but that’s not exactly true. Some can cook and others can’t. Over the years my dad’s cooking skills have improved, but years ago, when he was a teenager, dating my mom, he didn’t just lack cooking skills, but common sense as well.

Growing up, my dad’s stepmom made potato pancakes, basically fried mashed potatoes. Well, one evening my dad decided he wanted to make some, the only problem was he had absolutely no clue how to do it. He was about halfway done when my mom came over only to find him in the kitchen, covered in potato bits. He was holding a hand-held, electric beater, that was still running, and covered in the potatoes. Of course my mom asked him what the heck he was doing, and he promptly responded that he was mashing the potatoes. Perfectly logical, right? Well, normally when you mash potatoes they don’t just spontaneously fly everywhere unless you have forgotten to do something to them…

“Well, did you boil them first?” My mom asked.

“Boil them?” He replied, bewildered.

Yeah, that’s right, my dad had no clue that in order to make mashed potatoes you have to boil them first. Now you can see why I don’t truthfully believe it was cooking skills that he lacked but common sense.

my random rambling

We Put the Fun in Dysfunctional: Tales of my Not-so-Normal Family Part 3

Once again I come to you, ready to share a foul story about my cousin and birds. This time the story involves a different species of birds; ducks, and more specifically, my cousin’s great fear of them.

It all started with a drive to the local river. My parents figured that taking me and my cousin to the river to feed the ducks was a perfectly normal activity and truthfully, I believe they had absolutely no intention in traumatizing my cousin. Nevertheless, that is exactly what happened.  We had just gotten to the river and gotten out of the car when the white and brown feathered creatures started advancing towards us.

I highly doubt we had been feeding them for more than two minutes before havoc descended upon us. Whether an overanxious duck pecked at my cousin or whether he was stupid enough to provoke one, I know not; what I do know, however, it that he quickly became intimidated and began backing away towards the car. Unfortunately, he must not have realized that ducks do not see this as a gesture of fear and utter surrender, but rather as one of enticement, or in simple words “Follow me, I have food.” Basically, the closer my cousin got to the car the closer the ducks advanced to him. Sadly, before long, my cousin climbed up onto the hood of the car in a last, fighting attempt to keep the vile creatures away.

Oh yes, what an entertaining spectacle for me and my parents, who rather than helping him, stood off to the side, watching in amusement. Looking back, I can derive one point of importance from this story; ducks are dangerous.

my random rambling

We Put the Fun in Dysfunctional: Tales of My Not-so-Normal Family Part 2

parrot

Some people in my family like birds. For example, my cats, but that’s not what we’re going to talk about today. No, today we’re going to talk about the time my cousin almost put a parrot into diabetic shock.

Several years ago my mom and grandmother took me and my cousin to a pet store. Although at the time it seemed like an innocent activity that would keep two little kids busy, it quickly spiraled out of control. My mom was watching me and left my grandmother to look after my cousin, who at the time was probably seven. Well, at some point my grandmother bought my cousin some skittles from a dispenser in the store. This in itself was a mistake. My cousin at the time was the type of kid you had to watch every second and giving him sugar would only double the amount of trouble he could produce. Nevertheless, my grandmother, who may or may not have a similar level of jovial hyper-ness, did buy him some skittles. This alone was not enough to wreak havoc but what came next was. My cousin then gave one of his skittles to a parrot. Me being a particularly observant six-year-old, saw the skittle go into the bird’s mouth and promptly alerted my grandmother. Unfortunately, she said it was fine and promptly grabbed my cousin and fled the scene of the crime.

I still wasn’t satisfied and went to my mom and told her about the incident. At first, my mom dismissed it, thinking it wasn’t a big deal. Nevertheless, she eventually decided it would be best to tell the store clerk. When she did, the clerk lost it. Like really lost it.

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! That is a ten thousand dollar bird and he’s diabetic!”

With that, the clerk ran over the bird’s cage in what now was a race against time and began attempting to pry the skittle out of the bird’s mouth. It took a while but she finally removed the half eaten skittle from the bird’s mouth after repeatedly yelling “Drop it! Drop it!’.  She then, of course, proceeded to chastise my mom for letting my cousin feed the bird, despite the fact my mom hadn’t even seen it happen.  Needless to say, when my mom and I finally made it to the car she made it very clear to my grandmother that thanks to her not-so-extraordinary babysitting skills, a ten thousand dollar bird almost went into diabetic shock.

my random rambling

We Put the Fun in Dysfunctional: Tales of My Not-so-Normal Family Part 1

Everyone has that one weird family member. Well, in my family there isn’t just one; in fact, I think it’s safe to say not a single member of my family could be called completely normal. From the time my cousin told the new girl at school she had  facial hair to the time my uncle ran around outside our house wearing a pink princess towel; I have a practically endless supply of stories to share, so if you’re willing, buckle up because my family puts the fun in dysfunctional.

To start off this series, I am going to talk about the time my mom locked my uncle outside of the house while he was wearing a pink princess towel. One might wonder how my uncle got a hold of a princess towel in the first place, and when he came across it, why he would put it on; but like I said before, my family isn’t normal. If you shouldn’t do it, we probably did it. I was a toddler at the time and my mom had found a cute pink, hooded, towel at the store, thinking I could use it after taking a bath. Little did she know it would jump start stupidity.

She brought the towel home and I, of course, was thrilled. I had barely gotten the chance to pull it out of the package before my uncle, who I gather had come over to visit, decided to put it on. Me, being the average toddler, had no intention of sharing my new towel and promptly made it clear. In short, my uncle ran outside, yes, still wearing the towel and I followed. To get a mental picture, imagine a man wearing a pink hooded towel that from a distance looked like a fuzzy cape, running circles around a small tree, a toddler at his heels, in desperate want of the towel and expanding her vocal range in the process. Thankfully my mother got revenge. Once I was safely back inside she locked my uncle out of the house while he was still wearing the towel. I believe it took him a minute to realize he looked like an idiot and take it off, which of course is just what my mom wanted. Now that years have passed we can look back on this event and come to one conclusion; stupidity provides excellent entertainment.

my random rambling

Spray Painting a Pig Part 2

We did it. We really did it. We went out in the freezing cold, looking like a bunch of thugs, and spray painted a concrete pig. And let me tell you, spray painting is practically impossible with gloves on. Not that we let that stop us; no, we pressed on and experienced the glorious fruition of four teen girls using spray paint for the first time.

We painted on side of the pig in honor of Michael Vey.

pig2

Then for some unknown reason, we gave it a superhero mask.

pig1

Truthfully, it was completely pointless but was extremely entertaining. I hope to do it again in summer when it’s warmer and no chance of freezing my hands off. We have a bunch of spray paint left, enough for next time I think. Well, I have to go; there’s leftover popping boba to eat and I Love Lucy episodes to watch.