HRH Andie Lynne

Today’s list of random things:

1) I got stung by a bee at Connor’s game last night. This is ok because my superhero power is that I am impervious to bee stings. It hurt for a moment but left no welts or pain.

2) Best Buy should open at 9, not 10. Apparently, I am not the only one of this opinion. Sitting here in the parking lot, I have counted 10 folks who’ve been turned away at the door.

3) My BlackBerry Bold may be the best purchase I’ve ever made.

4) I don’t have many bad moods. What I have is lots of good moods with sporadic no-moods. Connor hates my no-moods. Boo-hoo.

5) Since I wrote that thing about people being turned away from Best Buy, 4 more have been rejected.

6) I do not believe in fate, karma, or destiny. I also do not believe in psychics. This isn’t because I am a science fanatic, (though I am) but because I don’t like thinking that I am not in control of my own existence.

7) Sometimes, just because, I listen to Ashlee Simpson.

My very least favorite thing to do in the whole wide world is wait for ferries. This is unfortunate not just because I live in Washington, but because I live on a island.

9) I am terrified of deep water, round and stacked food items, leftover food, and going insane. I have no qualms with spiders, heights, or death.

10) I have an illness that causes me to be underweight. Before you get envious, this same disease is rapidly destroying coronary tissue in me. Translation: I will have a heart attack at some point. Stress exacerbates this issue and for several weeks I’ve been suffering from chest pains and heart palpitations.

11) I relate to music in a weird way. If I were narcissistic, I would believe that songs were written about me. Instead, I cope through painful and traumatic events by believing I am not alone, as someone has experienced similar events and they wrote a song.

12) I am addicted to two things: Caffeine and nicotine. I can go longer without nicotine than caffeine.

13) I have never done an illegal drug in my life. I have, however, had a problem with dilauded. Due to strict usage regulations, I have never used it outside the supervision of a physician.

14) I have owned a BlackBerry Pearl, Curve, and Bold. I doubt my ability to function without BB’s.

15) I can play video games for hours on end. Because of this, I purposefully avoid playing games that have cult followings. I own a Wii, an XBox 360, an XBox, two Playstations, a PSP, and two Nintendo DS.

16) I spend more money on electronics than food, clothes, and entertainment combined.

17) I have weird commitment issues. If a relationship is good, I will almost always find a way to sabotage it. I’ve known about this for sometime, but only Connor has ever called me on it. My sabotage is never in the form of me hurting my partner, but rather, blowing small issues way out of proportion and making my partner feel like he is the one hurting me. Thank G-d for Connor’s ability to see that and make me stop.

18) One of my feet is a half-size larger than the other.

19) My ears are completely different from each other. Not just one smaller, or slightly lop-sided, but full on different. Its as if they belong on different heads. I think I got one from one side of the family and one from the other.

20) My Saints Row gangster looks exactly like me, down to the pink and white pixie hair.

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We’ve all heard the term, “An Expectation of Privacy.”  For the most part, the idea is pretty common sense.  In legal matters, there are two instances in which the expectation falls under.  These are described as subjective and objective.  Being even moderately well-versed in the English language, it’s pretty clear to make sense of the two types.  If you’re dumb, then a subjective expectation would be an individuals opinion that something should be private (one’s email, for example), and an objective expectation, of course, means the expectation is the social norm; for instance, public restrooms (which I just realized is a bit of an oxymoron!). 

It’s never a good idea to mix law with love.  So, since I am a logically inclined individual, and laws are generally made up from logical reasoning, I tend to make my own “love laws,” that vary slightly from actual legal definitions and ideals, but are as loquacious in some cases.  (Yes, I put a smiley there.)

Now, lets discuss the HRH Theory on Expectation of Privacy in Intimate Relationships.

In intimate relationships, there are two applications to an expectation of privacy.  I have deemed them:  Implied and Explicit.  Let’s start with Implied, as it’s the more complex of the two.  Important to note about Implied Expectation is the premise in which it is TEMPORARY.  Implied Expectation is no longer applicable when a relationship becomes monogamous (there is a mutual agreement/understanding that the parties are committed to one another). 

Implied Expectation of Privacy:
When two people began to date, but there is no clear defined commitment to one another, the implication would be that certain aspects of a parties life are not to be shared.  This includes things like cell phones and personal email.  Lets say two people meet online and go for a cup of coffee at the local Starbucks.  One party gets up to use the restroom, and leaves their cell phone on the table.  The other party has NO RIGHT to peruse the contents of that phone.  It is implied that the “peeing party” expects that their phone is safe being left with the other person, but will not be rifled through.  This can carry on as long as monogamy has not been established. 

As mentioned previously, however, the implication goes right out the window when commitment is established.  The reason is this; when folks decide that they would like to take the step of being monogamous, there should be nothing in said phone or email that would be of any concern to the other party of the relationship.   It is essentially because Implied Expectation of Privacy converts itself into Implied Expectation of Honesty.  See how that happens?

Now surely, some will argue with me that this is Tom Foolery and no one should rifle through anyone’s phone.  I’m sorry to break this to you naysayers, but you’re wrong.  There are two reasons in which a person might rifle through their partners phone/email.  1) They have reason to believe that treachery is afoot, and 2) They have insecurities that need to be lifted in order to feel comfortable in the relationship.  Either way, the phone/email rifling is NOT wrong.  And further, only those who have something to hide will argue this point with me.

Over a glass of rum and a smoke with my most recent ex, I explained this concept to him by saying, “If you can whip out your dick and pee in front of me, then you have no expectation of privacy.”  Although not entirely accurate (as men seem to whip it out and pee in front of complete strangers), he picked up what I was putting down. 

Lets quickly discuss:

Explicit Expectation of Privacy
This is a more hardlined look at privacy that basically takes the legal route and applies it to the relationship.  An example of Explicit Expectation would be the following:  One party of a relationship works in Human Resources, while the other works in IT at the same company.  The HR person holds an Explicit Expectation that their dealings with employees, though probably HIGHLY entertaining, are protected.  This couple could have been together for years, and still, the HR representative may reply to inquiries by the IT manager:  “Frankly, it’s none of your business why Bob is wearing an ice pack on his groin.” 

Explicit doesn’t necessarily only apply to work conditions.  It can also apply to friendships outside of the intimate relationship.  If Joe tells Mike that he is leaving his wife Marge…and Mike’s girlfriend Amy is friends with Marge, then Mike has an Explicit Expectation that Amy does not need to know this information. 

From past experience, I am not an overly trusting partner in relationships.  Those of you who know me personally are aware as to where this stems from.  This doesn’t make me a bad partner, in fact, pretty much every guy I have ever dated will say to this day that I was the best girlfriend ever.   You’re damn right I am!  I’m caring and loving and enough of a dork to enjoy some shit that seems lame to most others.  I will, however, catch you being a nogoodnick.  If you have nothing to hide, then you have nothing to fear.

On the other hand…if you are a dirtbag, be prepared to face my wrath.

That leads to another topic.  I should blog it separately.  I think I will…more later.

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The Pacific Northwest is undergoing some kind of a heatwave.  It’s been insanely hot for like 2 weeks now, which is highly unusual, considering it’s not even Summer yet.

Because of this, I’ve been leaving my sunroof and windows open at night in my car.  I tend not to get in the car until after 11AM or so, and by then its usually a scorcher out there.  Well, this morning, I learned the error of my ways.

Apparently, in this heat, the baby pinecones are dying and are falling off trees in epic proportions.  Well, I think they’re baby pinecones.  They look like pinecones, only real small and are kinda soft.  I could be wrong.  Doubtful though.  Anyways, I get up at the crack of dawn today to take Lynnie to the ferry boat and what should I find completely covering both the outside and inside of Eva (my car)?  Billions and billions of baby pinecones.  Those little bastards are EVERYWHERE.  I JUST washed and vacuumed my car, only to have all these fuckers trump me with their existence.  Honest to gawd, they were an inch thick on the drivers side of my car.  The seat was covered, the floor, the center console…It’s going to take me FOREVER to get them all out of there. 

Fuck baby pinecones, man.

Someone called me at 1020PM last night.  I have no idea who it was…it was some number I didn’t recognize.  I was asleep, dick!  Well, it woke me up and I saw that I had missed a Connor text.  He was just saying goodnight, but I was kinda out of it having been awoken from my deep sleep by dickhead late night caller.  I texted back “G’Night.”  Apparently, this was not good enough.  He sent me back a text and said, “That’s it?!?!”  So, now I’ll probably have to tell him 100 times today that I love him so that he won’t get all knotted up in the panties.  Excuse me, man!  Well, he’s lucky I do actually love him.  Can you imagine someone I didn’t love trying to pull some of that on me?  There’d be a killin’ in order. 

Poor Connor.  That guy is so damn awesome and I love the hell outta him.  I can’t believe he tolerates me.  I remember a couple weeks ago we went out to dinner and he made me mad about something…I don’t recall what.  I got real snippy there at the table and said something like, “Oh.  Pardon.  I guess for a moment there you must’ve forgotten who you were talking to.  I mean, given the lack of respect in your tone there, I can’t imagine that you knowingly would speak to ME like that?”  Whatever he said wasn’t even that big of a thing either.  I was just cranky. 

In the car the other day he was talking about how he likes to argue with me.  I was like, really?  Cause most people are loathe to argue with me, since I am pretty hard lined about shit.  He said something to the effect of it being because I make valid arguments rather than just ignore the topic or bow down.  Well, duh.  I pointed out that I tend not to argue something unless I have formed an educated opinion on the matter.  Then I started thinking about how many times we’ve argued.  Once.  I’ve actually avoided it with him more than anyone else in history.  Man, I feel for that guy when the day comes that I stop harboring my argumentative nature. 

I’ve digressed here.  Surprise.

I am listening to Otep at 8AM.  That’s nice.  That oughta set quite the tone for the day.  With lines like, “If you touch us again, I will FUCKING KILL YOU!”  I should be right on par for a cheerful Friday.

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I’m pretty much at my wits end with this damn studio build.

Historically, sound studios have used Mac’s for production.  Now that PC’s are actually superior machines in the field, you are starting to see a lot of the large audio ware developers make Windows compatible software and interfaces.  However, one thing I would like to say about this cross-over is this:

DON’T CALL IT COMPATIBLE IF WHAT YOU’RE ASKING PC USERS TO DO IS TO TURN THEIR PC’S INTO MACS!

Windows compatible means that a program SHOULD run on Windows with little, if not no changes to the system.  Same for the interface…Windows systems LOVE Plug’n Play.  If a device isn’t PnP, then technically, its not compatible.  Its modifiable.

Honest to gawd, this is what I have had to do so far with this this studio:

First PC blew a mobo from the BSODs caused by the incompatible drivers of the interface.
Second PC had an nVidia chipset (as MOST PC’s have), so I had to return it and scour the market for an Intel chipset.
Third PC has Vista 64, had to drop it to Windows 7 x86, since the software can’t run at 64 Bit.
Killed 2 cores, since the PC is a Quad Core and the program can only run at dual.
Went through 3 Firewire cards trying to find ONE that was TI chipset, since the interface can’t communicate with VIA (WTF?!?!  VIA dominates the market!)

And you know what?!?!  It STILL doesn’t work.  It’s BSODing on a bad pool header and telling me that the interface drivers are corrupt.  Are you serious?  I’ve made this machine as dumb as humanly possible to try and make this work.

So, now, XP Home OEM in hand, I am making one last ditch effort to make this fucking thing work.  If it doesn’t, I quit.  I’ve spent 30 hours on this damn thing.  And what is the engineer’s advice?  “Buy a Mac.”  Oh yeah, that’s a fucking great idea.  My client is already a novice a PC user…like he’s really gonna dig having to try and learn a Mac.  Further, I’m the IT tech here….I cannot support Mac’s.  So, when something goes wrong, which surely it will…I can’t fix it.  When I tried to explain these issues to the engineer, he actually has the balls to say to me, “Oh…nothing will go wrong.  It’s a Mac.” 

REALLY?!?!  This is the kind of blatant ignorance out there that tricks poor people into thinking that Mac’s are good ideas.  If you Google the problems that I am having with this piece of shit system, almost ALL of the returns are from people with Mac’s going through the EXACT SAME SHIT.  Sometimes, worse. 

Shit.  I’ve gotta run.  I got real caught up in this and just realized that I am about to miss the ferry.

More later.

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I listen to the best music in the world.  This is not an opinion, but just fact.  I have a good sense of what makes quality tuneage.  Admittedly, I stray from the good shit every once in awhile…just for fun.  You MIGHT, very rarely, hear some Britney or Ashlee tearing out my speakers.  This isn’t because I consider it good music at all.  It’s simply because sometimes it puts me in a fun mood to hear it.

That said, let me tell you what defines good music. 

Good music is classified as music that not only has good beats, rhthym, and overall sound, but ALSO quality lyrics.  Now, granted, I believe Justice, Crystal Castles, and Daft Punk to all be GOOD, even though the lyrics tend to be either lacking or non-existent.  This is because the music these three phenoms pull together from computers makes them eligible to bypass the lyrical requirement.

Here are the top bands in my musical world:  Tool, Rage Against the Machine, Pink Floyd, Deftones, Otep, My Ruin, Coheed and Cambria, Chevelle, and Incubus (WHA?!?!  I surprised you with that last one, huh?).

Notice the commonality between these bands.  Not only do they all have excellent drummers, bassists, and guitarists…BUT also, they have a lyrical genius in the mix there.  Now, you may not like metal/rock as much as I do…but I demand that you go read some Tool lyrics before you call me wrong.  The greatest musical genius of our day is Maynard Keenan.  If you try to tell me otherwise, I will beat your face in with a bag of marbles.

If you’re musically intelligent, you will notice something else about a couple of these bands.  Particularly, lets look at Tool, Pink Floyd, and Coheed and Cambria.  I bet you can think of at least one song from each of those bands…even if you aren’t fans.  You know why?  Because they are EPIC.  EPIC FUCKING ROCKSTARS, you see.  In that, I mean that they all have epic ballads.  Tool has many, but pretty much the entire 10,000 Days album is epic…not unlike The Wall.  And if you are unfamiliar with the song Welcome Home by C&C, then I suggest you go to Pandora or Last.fm and play it.  That is the definition of an epic song.  They are long and tell a story…Remember the Iliad and the Odyssey (Homer)?  They are epics for the same reason.  The amount of genius that goes into writing an epic song…if you can’t appreciate that, then you’re an idiot.

I was listening to Evan’s Blue the other day.  I have a CD from a couple of years ago of theirs.  Normally, I don’t listen to the radio or CDs, as I have a Zune.  But, woe is me, I dumped a Venti White Chocolate Mocha on my little Zune the other day and killed her.  No worries, I bought a new one…but that day, I had to suffer with old CDs.  Connor made the snide comment about Evan’s Blue sounding emo.

First off, Evan’s Blue is not emo.  They are more of a mellow rock.  Emo is more like what my daughter listens to.  However, this said, I actually like some emo-ish music (see: Incubus).  To clarify, since so many seem to want to make fun these days…emo music is FINE.  It’s the image that most of us sane people have a problem with.  Good music is good music…but skinny jeans and eyeliner on a man is not a good look.

Let me try and explain what makes a band emo versus just mellow.  Slow songs about love do not calculate out to emo.  If that were the case, every rock band would be emo, because they all have at least one.  A prime example of emo would be My Chemical Romance.  (Keep in mind that I actually LIKE some MCR.) The songs DO NOT have to be slow, for one thing.  You HAVE to listen to what they are saying.  MCR is pretty dark…they sing about self-inflicted pain/torture due to the harm caused by others.  THAT IS FUCKIN EMO.  Evan’s Blue, on the other hand, may sing about lost love, but you don’t hear him saying that he is gonna off himself or slit his wrists.  Hence, not emo.  Making sense?

And that’s about all I have to say about that.

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Oy.  I’m doing the computer set up for a sound studio in Seattle these days.  I’ve spent the better part of the past two days up there trying to get the effing thing to work.  I worked all Wednesday, then stayed at Connors that night, then all Thursday, and now, here it is 630AM and I am getting ready to head back for my third full day on this damn thing.

Can I say this?  I found a new piece of software that I hate.  Ok, maybe its not the software thats giving me such fits, but rather the peripheral driver…however, I am frankly sick of it.

This job has gone like this:  Brand new media PC blew its mother board, returned it, got a new one, software couldn’t run on Vista 64 so I swapped the OS to Win 7, software loaded, firmware update on the rack BSOD’d the new PC, can boot, but cannot use the peripheral because the BSOD occurs whenever the dll runs.

Now, conceivably, I could use a Mac to avoid this trouble, NOT because Mac is better.  We all know my opinions on that.  But simply because the software was originally designed to run on Mac and in fact is SO ANTIQUATED that it cannot run on a quad core processor (which means I actually had to KILL CORES!  WTF?!?!).

My beef is this:  SONAR and CuBase are 64bit compatible.  Why is this one we are using NOT?!?!  I guess its in the works…and if anybody gets that the R&D behind making software not just 64bit compatible, but 64bit CAPABLE is a nightmare…its me.  But C’mon!  The other guys have done it!  And with software that costs in the 10’s of thousands, I think they can spend the extra dough to make it happen, cap’n.

So, now, here I go…off to try and resolve this effing nightmare again.  I am glad it’s Friday.  I’m gonna need the man’s cooking and a beer when this is done.  And I will be getting just that.

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So, Connor and I have this running bet on the show “Deadliest Warrior.”  If you haven’t watched this televised radness, it’s on Spike on Tuesday nights.  What they do is take two seemingly comparable fighters and put them up against each other to see who would win if they were to fight.  Can you think of a better premise for a show?  Really?  Cause I can’t.

Now, I disagree with this show more often than not.  For instance, I beg to differ that a pirate would win a fight against a knight.  That’s just silly.  They have this computer program that calculates the end result, as well as the physical comparison between their weapons.  Since I disagree, I often lose.  However, last night, I WON and there was no question about this one.

Last night was Shaolin Monk vs. Maori Warrior.

C’mon!  It’s not even fair to the Maori’s, who are total badasses.  But really…Shaolin?  Shaolin’s are just about the baddest of bad and I actually believe that there is no way to really win a fight against one.  Turns out, I was right.  Connor picked the Maori because of their training, which starts in infancy.  Gotcha…they are tough motherfuckers.  However, they aren’t being trained in KUNG FUCKIN FU!  Lets be real here.

I was getting real mad while watching the weapons comparison.  The Shaolin have this whippy thing on a chain that took off 3 heads in one swing, and 2 more on the recoil.  TOOK OFF HEADS, MAN!  They lost to a little paddle with shark teeth on it.  WTF?  And they also had these little tiny hand swords that ripped a DUDES EYES OUT!  And they lost to a rock on a stick.  Are you kidding me?

They did, however, win with the big swords.  

But now I get it.  It was a setup.  They had to throw the Maori a bone here, since the Shaolin are pretty much unmatched by anyone.  

I certainly wouldn’t want to go up against a Maori.  Those fuckers are brutal.  But the thing is, and frankly, I am quite please that this was pointed out in the show…size and brutality are no match for skill and technique.  This is why martial arts is such a big deal.  Even tiny little people like me can handle our own because of martial arts.  I’m no KF Master or anything, but my training in martial arts has save my little 100lb ass on more than one occasion.

I didn’t really like the reps that they chose for the Maori side.  They made them look cocky.  These dudes were meatheads.  They kept saying shit like, “When it comes down to it, those tiny little guys won’t be able to handle our size and strength.”  Really?  Say that to the face of a Shaolin Monk.  The Kung Fu guys who were representing the Shaolin were totally cool dudes.  Hellfire, they were even GRACIOUS!  When they lost the weapon challenges, they said nothing…not even when it was obviously fixed.

One of the Maori reps even had the cojones to say at the end that the Shaolin won because the computer was Chinese.  That was the kind of blatant ignorance that was pissing me off for the whole show.

Anyways, I won.  Connor owes me again.  I think we are actually even at this point.  Next week is tougher and I am going to have to do some research.  My instincts tell me to take Shaka Zulu, but I don’t know enough about William Wallace to make any snap decisions.

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Oy!  I love rampant idiocy.  You can pretty much find it anywhere you go and damnit all if it ain’t a fucking blessing.

It was “that time of the month,” last weekend.  Yes.  Now you know.  I’m a woman, for crying out loud.  It’s not like you all don’t know about menses.  Quit acting like a bunch of pansy asses with your cringes and disgusted faces.  Hey, at least I don’t get erections in the elevator.

Anyhow, like I said, it was that time.  I hadn’t really prepared for it, as it came on a day I hadn’t scheduled.  But, such is life.  So, I think it was Saturday?  Anyways…I say to Connor, “take me to Walgreens.  I’m not fuckin around here.”  There is nothing quite as awesome as telling your man that you are in need of pooty-plugs.  Fortunately for me, I happen to have a man that is completely unfettered by such things.

So, he takes me to Walgreens.  That fucker actually started to GET OUT OF THE TRUCK!  WTF?  I said, “Hey, babe…love you, but listen.  I think I can handle getting a box of tampons just fine on my own.”

I wander through those fancy doors and immediately receive a text:

“Hey…if things get hairy in there, just call me.  I’ll come in guns blazing.”

Wha?!  What the hell is going to happen in the Lacey Walgreens?  I was in the feminine hygiene aisle!  Are the tampons all going to come to life and at once try to force their way inside me?  I sure as shit hope not.  That’s the stuff nightmares are made of.

You’ll be pleased to know that I needed no assistance from Connor on this particular venture into the drug store.  

So, here’s the real weird part of this whole story:

I get to the cash register, right?  I have only a box of tampons in hand.  I pay for my item and the lady actually asks me this:

“Do you want a bag for that?”

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  It’s not like I am holding a pack of gum.  It’s a fucking BOX OF TAMPONS!  It must’ve been priceless, my reaction.  I was looking at my wallet, returning my debit card to its rightful location as she spoke these words.  I distinctly remember pausing and slowly raising my head to look at her.  I kind of cocked my head like a dog does when you ask if it wants a biscuit.  My brows did that furrowing thing that they are known for and I responded:

“No.  I was actually thinking I might whip one of these bad boys out right here and pop it in.  A bag would just slow me down…(long pause)…gimme a fucking bag.”

Now, to be fair, when you get accustomed to asking questions like that, I suppose you can make the occasional slip-up like this.  It’s kinda like when the cashier at McDonalds tells you to “enjoy your lunch!”  and you’re like “thanks!  You too!” even though you KNOW they aren’t eating lunch at that time, they are simply serving you your foods and being polite.  Still.  I gave her ample time between my dramatic pauses to fix her error.  She just stared at me waiting for an answer.

I’m thinking of repeating this test.  I might just run by every Walgreens in the greater Pierce/Thurston County area and buy single boxes of tampons.  Let’s see if I can duplicate the results.

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Connor set the damn alarm clock way too early. Nonetheless, I stayed in bed while he got up to shower and make coffee. I wanted to go back to sleep, but alas, once the sleeping dragon has been awoken, it is what it is. 

I woke up in a pretty good mood despite this, as well as the fact that I drank too much wine last night. Nonetheless, I still had to pop off a bit just to let him know my dissatisfaction with being up so early.

I can’t recall what I said that made him say, “Shut your face,” to me. He said it though. Now before you get your panties in a knot and think that my fantasmagorical boyfriend is in any way some kind of a jerk face, let me assure you that this comment was said in a joking manner. Connor doesn’t have it in him to be an asshole to me. Between you, me, and the lamppost, I think it’s entirely possible that he actually lives in a bit of fear of my wrath.

The point of this whole blog is comebacks, and I am digressing wildly here.

So, you ask, ‘what was your comeback, HRH?’ It was quick wit, let me tell you! I said, “YOU shut YOUR face, mister.” Yep, I’m the comeback kid. I’m fairly generous with allowing others to use my awesome commentary, so feel free to swipe that radical retort for your own verbal battles.

In all seriousness, I blame my tiredness and the remaining fragments of my wine drinking. I can’t be held personally accountable for this pile of shit comeback. It did prompt a conversation about good comebacks though. It’s been determined that the best comebacks will invariably end in, ‘your mom,’ or ‘your face.’

Here is the example Connor provided:

Yesterday at work he was talking to his coworker.

Coworker: this chair is so uncomfortable.
Connor: you know what I think is uncomfortable?
Coworker: no. What?
Connor: your face.

Now see? This works for almost anything. And because of its simplicity, it is even funnier. Here is another thing that he has taught me regarding witty repertois.

I’ve been working out a lot lately. This morning when I walked into the kitchen, I started flexing my muscles. I said, “Baby! Look at me! I’m ripped to shreds. I’m gettin’ HUGE. I can barely squeeze my massive muscles into this shirt.” Connor chuckled.

HRH: you aren’t laughing at me are you? Cause gimme another couple days and I will be able to whoop your ass.
Connor: I’m not laughing at you, love. I was just reminded of a funny story. Would you like to hear it?
HRH: I’m eagerly awaiting your tale.
Connor: there was this girl who always had wild colored hair…you should be able to relate to this…she was a rocker chick. One day, she came up to me and said some ridiculous shit about being ripped to shreds. It was pretty funny since she probably weighs like a buck.
HRH: silly bitch.

So, I’ve determined that you can manage stupid things people say by those three rules:

1. Your mom
2. Your face
3. Tell the story back to the person, making sure to use the word ridiculous so that they realize how it sounds

Unrelated:

Yesterday, someone kept pocket dialing me. Normally, I would call the person back and be like, ‘hey douche! Lock your keypad.” Unfortunately, said pocket dialer was calling from a blocked number. I answered a couple times, only to be let down by lack of response. By the third call, I changed my modus operandi. I decided to chat it up with someone’s pocket. I talked to this pocket for almost 36 minutes. The topics varied wildly. I spoke of my building plans for the house, my kids, Tool, zombies, the fact that I had to pee, etc.

In retrospect, this may not have been the best idea.  There are only two people who call me from “Unknown Number.”  That would be a client of mine and my best friend…who happens to be in Mexico right now.  So, I was either saying all these bizarre things to said client, or I just ran up a massive international cell bill for Angela.

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I am going zombie hunting tonight.

Connor is making me steak for dinner, then we are off to kill zombies with our arsenal of zombie killing weapons.  You all should sleep a little more sound knowing the following:

My Qualifications as a Zombie Destroyer:
Black belt in Tae Kwon Do
Police training on 9MM and .45 handguns
Police training on 12G shotgun
All Around American Badass
No less than 15 hours of bar fighting with 8 TKO’s and not one single disqualification (getting booted from the establishment)
Melee master on Halo series
7th Place on Primevil Hunt at the movie theater arcade, which includes 4 Vital Shots taking down 2 T-Rex’s, a Velociraptor, and a Apatosaurus
Jewish 

Connor’s Qualifications as a Zombie Destroyer:
Tank Gunner with the US Army ( also with training in 9mm and .45 handguns, various shotguns, 5.56mm, 7.62, and .50 cal machine guns)
SSgt with the US Air Force Reserves (same as a above)
Trained in handgrenades and knife fighting, military vehicle operations and tactics
Trained yours truly on Primevil Hunt
Built like a brick shithouse
Hand to hand combat training with the US Military
Has become an All Around American Badass through being my boyfriend (it spreads like an STD)
Cunning to the point of absurdity
Remorseless and no problem shooting humans
Eats meat rare
B.S. in Political Science, which pays off when diplomacy is needed
Supa Hot!
Watches awesome TV shows like Dealiest Warrior and has won more of our bets on winners than I have

Now, I know you are all very concerned about the insurgence of zombies.  Connor and I will take care of this for you, and you can rest assured, you’ll never even know they were here.  

Sleep tight, humans.  We got your back.

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