The End of the Beginning

I took my GRE today. For those of you who've been there before, this may look familiar. For those of you who haven't this is a taste of what I've been swimming in for the last month+. No, it doesn't smell like grape.
I think I was out of the testing room all of 19 minutes before I cracked open a Coors, sat down on plastic furniture in the carport, broke out the knitting (this one's for you, Kristin!) and watched Mack work on his Ninja motorcycle. Maybe because when I start to feel "smart" I get freaked out and the part of me that was brought up thinking ambition meant stomping all the beer cans in the garage to make $40 takes over. Sometimes I utter the words "Troyer brothers." I'm so glad that stupid test is over I feel like I just got a clean bill of health. I didn't do great on the test, make no mistake, but I did just fine. Fine enough to pair my test score with my work experience and my irresistible self to get into a school that will teach me something. If I decide to go in the next 5 years.

I haven't felt this good about getting through something as I did when I finished college... when I looked at myself and said, "Guess what? You NEVER have to write another essay again in your life!" And then immediately started a job writing a journalistic version of essays.

Now that I've got my free time back to get absorbed in such brilliance as The Real World: Hollywood (if I see them out I will punch them in the face and be fine going to jail for it) and Shot at Love with Tila Tequila II (because I still can't quite put my finger on why she reminds me a praying mantis), my next big plan is to christen the $8 grill I got off Ebay with a big, fat stack of vocabulary words. I am just that brilliant.

Wake & Shake

When I moved to California, I got all kinds of fear injections from people wanting me to stay in Kentucky. What about the EARTHQUAKES? The BIG ONE? The DEATH LOOMING JUST BELOW THE SURFACE ON THE SAN ANDREAS FAULT????

Well, I've been here two years and haven't felt a single wobble. If I'd moved from here to Kentucky, I couldn't say the same thing.

So, come on and tell me, what were you doing when it happened? Drugs like the lady in the video? Did your nightstand shake, too?!?! Apparently I have to live vicariously through you Midwesterners for my earthquakes...

In Honor of All Things Elephantine

My mom and dad (the Greg dad, not the Steve dad) gave me a stuffed elephant when I was really little and part of the reason I loved it so much was that it had a little purple "scar" on its tummy.

I took it with me when my marching band went to Washington, D.C., for Bill Clinton's inauguration, and the maid in our hotel, Ngo, stole it.

I cried, my friend Erica Herren called the band instructor, we tried to fight the injustice through the front desk clerk, I wrote an impassioned letter to the maid so she could see it the next day and return Elliot to me, and nothing happened. Elliot and I were separated for life, and every happy memory of my mom and dad being married seemed to disappear with him.

Of all the animals in the world, I think elephants are the most magical. To be so hulking and huge and intelligent and still be vegetarian and able to live peacefully with mice and men (for the most part). There's this one episode of Planet Earth on the Discovery Channel where elephants swim... SWIM!!!... and that turned nature on its head for me. Elephants are beyond definition, beyond any other creature in the animal kingdom. Including people.

In Case You Were Wondering Why Me & Mr. T Won't Be Having Children

When Mack and I were dating we did one of those photo booth things where it takes your faces and smooshes them into a kid. I accidentally made the kid pale white with blonde hair -- just like neither of his parents -- and then quickly gave up on the prospect that we would make beautiful children. Oh, our kids would be strong and smart and bossy and funny, but beautiful, it's not looking good.

Not that either of us are ugly people. Mack has been publicly called out as being the hottest straight guy in the gay bar, and as long as I look over my glasses and remember to cock my head at a slight angle, I can be pretty photogenic. But when our genetics collide, holy moly.

When I found this new Baby Mama Baby Maker thing in honor of Tina Fey's new movie (where she hires Amy Poehler to be a surrogate), I thought I'd give us another shot. I uploaded our wedding photos, waited the appropriate load time, circled the correct features, and crossed my fingers.

And then I decided we're enough of a family without having a little troll running around.

This Is the New Mullet. Please Stop It Already.

I'm not sure how this happened or why, but this ridiculous hairdo should be illegal in 49 states. It can be allowed in New Jersey, but other than there, no way.

I think it might have been inspired by Growing Up Gotti on A&E, but it's been a while since that show was on and I can't imagine this style lasted longer than that reality show. Although, to be fair, reality shows can't be gelled into permanence.

For some reason, it seems that this hair style is always coupled with an unbuttoned shirt with popped collar, a fitted wife beater tank or a tee shouting "ARMANI EXCHANGE" in a dangerous font. I presume the unbuttoned shirt is for the pleasure of the people, who, unbeknownst to us, like looking at prepubescent chests and finely manicured happy trails. The wife beater and the Armani Exchange garb, I think that's just so they look rich... or at least too sexy to care that they're poor.

Please Note: This guy is partying in a utility room.

The other thing that's interesting to note about this style is that it's just not complete without a layer or ten of fake tan, preferably in a hue that matches an Oompa Loompa. Especially if it's prom night. And you're barely 5 feet tall. 

The finishing touch to complete this look is what I call "the asshole pucker." I think boys do this because they think it makes them look tough, like they're getting their mugshot taken and they just don't give a fuck in fact they care so little that they want to look like their blowing a kiss to all their bitches. It actually makes them look like they're signaling for a "daddy."

Please Note: This guy waxes his eyebrows and wears lipgloss. 

I can't explain what's happening with the chin strip.

Is there no limit to how awful this look can be? No. Which is why it must be stopped.

[On a side note, while looking for photos that could help me express these sentiments I stumbled across Hot Chicks with Douchbags, a site that needs no further explanation. Although I should add that it has commentary and addresses accessories such "the ubiquitous red cup."] 

Things Are Not as They Seem

Apparently my devotion to blogging has run its course. I've enjoyed doing it for the last couple of years, but life has been stealing my soul, and I can't commit to putting up new material any time in the next few months.

Plus, it doesn't seem like anyone actually reads my blog anymore except for Shannon, Heather, Jen and Lisa. My mom is not even included in that list. When your mom quits finding you interesting, it's a sign to throw in the towel.

Rest assured that I'll keep accepting your phone calls and reading your blogs and chatting with you on IM when I see you there, but as for blogging, it's time to hang it up. If Phil can't find the time to update, why should I?

I still hope to write, but instead of putting little snapshots of things no one cares about on Like A Twister, I think I should spend more time seriously writing. About things that matter. And the pain of living. Serious things. Things that I understand. And that don't get enough attention.

Lately I just feel like I have to put on a facade when I write, like I have to be this perky, introspective, witty person, and I'm not. Not anymore.

For all of you who have enjoyed my blog, I'm glad I made something you liked. I know not many people care about my cashew cheddar cheese or the porn artwork I found in Santa Barbara, but if anything I said made you laugh, then it was worth it.

One of the things I'll miss the most is putting up pictures of all the reunions I get to have since moving away. They really do show some of my happiest moments, and it's nice to have a virtual scrapbook to scroll through sometimes.

Of course, there's always Snapfish and Photobucket for that. I don't need to maintain a blog.

Lastly, I just want to say goodbye, good luck and good riddance.

So, I guess the best way to sum it up would be to read the first letter of each paragraph going from top to bottom, and then leave me a parting comment.