Just Your Everyday Neighborhood Nonsense, My Boyfriend Has A Mustache, People From My Past, Story Time, Who Is Alanna?

Nightmare On North Pine Street

(Or maybe it’s “Inception”.  Either way, somebody is screwing up my dreams and I don’t know what to do about it.)

So Alessandro and I have officially decided that we’re gonna get engaged once he gets a proper engineering job and saves up enough money for a ring (please hold your excitement and congratulations for the post where we actually get engaged and I have a giant-ass diamond on my finger).  What’s bothering me though is that someone I haven’t seen or thought about in YEARS keeps showing up in my dreams like Freddy-stupid-Krueger.  Like I don’t know this person anymore, I have no idea what they’re doing with their life, I don’t even know what they look like now.

(In fact, he could actually look like Freddy Krueger.  Maybe he was in some type of fire incident that involved him killing little kids and the townspeople taking their revenge?  Or he could look perfect and handsome, exactly as I remember him but now grown up so perhaps better.  The point is I have no idea and shouldn’t even care because I am happy with the person I’m about to spend my life with SO WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME???????)

The story of this person infecting my life begins with myself at the tender age of 12, attending my first track practice of the year in early March. I actually took a year off from my little private school to see what public school was like and was only on my old school’s track team because the public school didn’t have a track team for 6th graders. I had also finally gotten out of my awkward stage, grown 5 inches, and (if I do say so myself) achieved quite the little body in six-grader standards. Plus, my bangs had finally grown out from the year before which taught me a great life lesson about never ever getting bangs ever again.

The first day of practice was freezing cold and even my heavy sweatshirt and thick sweatpants couldn’t keep out the piercing wind. I met one of my friends on the hill overlooking the track to chatter about nonsense and current 6th grade gossip when I made the unfortunate mistake of looking down onto the football field. 200 yards away (maybe, I have no ability to judge distance) I locked eyes with the single most perfect human being I had ever seen (he even put 2005-era Chad Michael Murray and Ashton Kutcher to shame). While my friend rambled on about whatever it was (I wasn’t listening), me and this demigod continued look deeply (and from far away) into each other’s eyes and I couldn’t feel the bitter cold anymore. I interrupted my friend asking, “Who is THAT?!?!” She looked down at the young man also standing with a friend and said, “That guy? Oh that’s [yeah-right-I’m-not-saying-his-name-I-know-who-reads-this-now-and-you’re-probably-all-laughing-at-me-cause-you-know-exactly-who-it-is]. He’s friends with my brother.” My very first words regarding this person was my reply: “I’m going to have his babies.”

(Sixth-grade-Alanna was quite the little minx and very brazen. She also had recently learned what sex was due to her newly-found public school education and something called “health class”, otherwise unheard of in Catholic school.)

My friend got all excited because this type of news was her oxygen and she continued to support me through the years of ups and downs from my perilous unrequited love.

Flash forward to 9th grade (since then, I’m still crushing hard and have reentered Catholic school), the first day of high school, first period Latin class: I’m wearing my “cool” new uniform and am feeling all grown up, ready to take on the world and let the real learning begin because nothing could distract me from my pursuit of higher education. I was pretty nervous so I wasn’t actually looking at anybody as the rest of the class filed in. When it came time for our teacher to assign seats, she said, “Okay, [I’m-still-not-saying-his-name]? Switch seats with Alanna, that’ll be your desk.” I didn’t think anything of the name since it’s pretty common and got up to let this person take my seat. The kid behind me gets up and our bodies touch as he passes by me in the narrow aisle and I almost faint because the boy I’ve been obsessed with for 2 years was totally within kissing distance not 5 seconds ago. My brain stopped working for what seemed like a short time but was apparently a while, and I wasn’t roused from my standing-coma until the second, “Alanna? Your seat is behind [this-is-getting-embarrassing-but-as-you-all-know-I’m-too-candid-for-my-own-good]. Isn’t that funny? You two were sitting in each other’s assigned seats totally by coincidence!” He turned around and smiled at me (fully aware of the crush I’d been harboring for him all this time) and for the rest of class, I didn’t hear a word anyone said except his, all of which made me blush to the point where my face was the same color as my hair.

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This is our only picture together.  What a cute couple lolamirite?

I continued to be in love with him until November of my 11th grade year when I made the conscious decision to fall out of love with him. I changed up all the ways I walked in the halls so as not to see him between classes, I stopped going to lunch and study hall (he was in all of mine because the universe has a sick sense of humor), and I avoided all school events he was likely to attend as well as stopping going to church because our families always went to the same mass. Eventually, I stopped thinking about him and met my very first boyfriend. That year, my crush graduated and other than a couple times watching Penn State football games and a few Christmas masses, I haven’t seen him again.

Until about a month ago, that is. And not in real life either. Just whenever I go to sleep.

I’ve actually tried staying up days at a time, but when I finally fall asleep, the dreams are longer and more vivid than ever. I have no idea what’s happening but it needs to stop. It’s actually come to the point where I wake up and am surprised by Alessandro being next to me instead of him. Maybe I should re-watch the “Nightmare on Elm Street” movies and see how those kids handled it. (Although I’m pretty sure they all either killed themselves or got locked up in insane asylums. If I stop blogging, you guys know where I am.)

Alanna and Freddy Kreuger Nightmare of Elm Street

So why is this happening?  Can somebody dig up Freud to help me?  At this point, I’d kill for a night of tossing and turning over ghosts or killers.  High school is truly to be feared…

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I'm Writing A Book, Just Your Everyday Neighborhood Nonsense, My Boyfriend Has A Mustache, Who Is Alanna?

Writing Is Hard.

Good morning, everybody. It’s 3:00am right now, but you probably won’t see this until later because I scheduled it for 8:00am. I’ve been up all night trying to write, but I have lost the ability to do so and should probably quit while I’m ahead.

Maybe become an accountant or someone who sells houses. A “something agent“. See how worthless my brain is right now?? I can’t even think of the term for those people.

(And I’m not about to look it up all, “What’s the term for someone who sells houses?” because Google will think I’m stupid and be like, “Seriously, Alanna?? You had to look this up?????” Since Google is very judgemental.)

I tried to ask Alessandro for feedback, but as usual, he is no help at all.

Conversation between Alex and I after I read him an edited version of my story:

ME: What’d you like about my story?

ALESSANDRO: It was reminiscent.

ME: What do you mean, “reminiscent”?

ALESSANDRO: I mean I was there. I remember when you changed those words to some other words.

ME: Well what do you think of the like, actual writing?

ALESSANDRO: …Nostalgic.

(Do you see what I have to deal with?)

Anyways, have a lovely day, everybody. And good luck on all your writing adventures. Because sometimes we just can’t find the words.

Hunter Thompson shoots typewriter

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I Watch Too Much TV, Just Your Everyday Neighborhood Nonsense, My Boyfriend Has A Mustache, Turn Noun For What?!

Turn Noun For What?! (Bacon Style)

(Sometimes I feel like my whole life is about bacon. And I’m quite often correct in that feeling. That’s why you’re reading this right now. “Bacon” was my fault.)

If you’ve seen the buzz around here or read my last reblogged post, you already know about the experiment by the lovely and talented Jessie Janelle Reyna and her noun experiment. Today’s noun is “bacon”. Brought to you by the letter “B”.

Patrick Stewart B or not a B

That is the question.

I grew up with parents who ate extremely healthily(ish) so we never had bacon in the house.

(Unless it was Canadian bacon. Which bothered me. No offense, Canada. It’s just that your bacon kinda sucks.)

So now that I’m a “grownup”, I have bacon all the time. But contrary to popular belief, there can be such a thing as too much bacon, and I’m living it. My boyfriend (Alessandro) shares many commonalities with Ron Swanson: the mustache, the stubborn nonsense, and a love for bacon that rivals his love for me.

Bacon is in pretty much everything I eat because Alessandro uses bacon and bacon fat like other people use oil or salt. The other day I came into the kitchen and frying in the pan was the largest piece of bacon I’ve ever seen. About a foot long, 4 inches thick and 4 inches deep. (I should’ve taken a picture.)

My house is like this:

Ron Swanson Bacon gif
Ron Swanson Bacon gif 2
Ron Swanson Bacon gif 3

It’s scary. And often smells. It’s gotten to the point where I get nauseous if I smell pork cooking.

But that doesn’t matter. Because bacon is like crack so I eat it anyway.

Well, that’s all for me. Check out the crew of “Turn Noun For What?!” and read more about bacon and stuff.

Turn Noun For What

Jessie Janelle Reyna

Fits of Wit

Angst Anarchy

Ben’s Bitter Blog

Endearingly Wacko

(Also, here’s something fun for you all):

Ron Swanson bacon gif lol

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Just Your Everyday Neighborhood Nonsense, My Boyfriend Has A Mustache, Story Time, Who Is Alanna?

The Art Of Falling Down Stairs

(My most graceful moments have happened in my Timberland’s. They’re like ballet slippers but for people who actually have to do stuff. Like carving trails through the woods or kicking some fool’s door in ’cause he hasn’t paid you back. It’s a versatile shoe.)

I’ve had my boots since the sixth grade which would make them a little over 10 years old. We’ve been through so much together. Good times like when we hiked through that old Native American trail and I would’ve slipped down this hill into a ravine if I didn’t have my trusty ‘ol Timb’s on.

Bad times like when my ex got arrested that one New Year’s Eve and I fell down a stripper pole (see story here).

I’m not much for believing in luck, but I reaallllyyy cannot figure out these shoes. If anything, they’re more like a rollercoaster of good and bad experiences that prove the great Karmic balance of the universe.

Like Thursday, for example: I woke up to find out one of my cousins died, but then I got to class and everyone loved my story so much, my teacher even convinced me to turn it into a novel (so that’s something I might be doing in the near future, just so everyone’s aware). I spent most of the day alone but then one of my best friends tells me he’s coming over and we’re gonna drink whiskey and tell tales of the sea. Needless to say, I’m totally stoked. Then as I’m gliding excitedly down the stairs to receive him at the door (that sounded dirty, but you know what I meant), I pull a full-on Scarlett O’Hara and tumble down the stairs.

Gone With The Wind falling down stairs

No one’s made a gif for this, probably because making it to the end of this movie is hard work in itself. But imagine this, except that I live in a tiny old brownstone and my staircase is like 30 feet down and maybe 3 feet wide.

If anyone reading this is a tumbler, I hit the halfway point of the stairs, started sliding, and then ended with a full birandi(sp?) (landing on my back instead of my feet).

Alessandro was upstairs chilling, all like:

gone with the wind rhett gif 1
gone with the wind rhett gif 2

The irony here is that about a year ago when we lived at our last apartment, the same friend who I fell down the stairs to see (running just isn’t fast enough), fell down those other stairs and literally broke his face. The ambulance came and I had to hold his head so he didn’t drown in his own blood, and then they put a metal plate in his face that makes all the metal detectors at government buildings start freaking out.

So, ‘ya know… silver linings and such. (There’s humor everywhere if you look hard enough.)

Anyways, back to me. Now I have what looks like a banana crossbred with a softball coming out of my leg and it hurts to type. If you know what getting the tar beaten out of you feels like, I’m totally there right now. And of course, Alessandro is once again too busy working to take care of his sad hobbled girlfriend.

(Side Note: some people have been asking why I don’t just wear my new Timberland’s instead. Well, I absolutely would, but when I was ordering them I wasn’t picturing myself wearing them but perhaps 50 Cent, and they came out a little flashier than I would have liked.)

Badass, right? But I'd look like an idiot.

Badass, right? But I’d look like an idiot.

So be careful out there, everybody! (And avoid all stairs if possible.)

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Awards, Funny Blog Friday, My Boyfriend Has A Mustache

Funny Blog Friday!! #FBF

(I know you’re all just dying to see who won the “Guest Post Contest”, but you’ll have to scroll down for that. Also, if you stay around long enough to read this post, there’s another giveaway to be had. Stay tuned…)

Hellooo and welcome to the first annual (or rather, weekly) Funny Blog Friday!!! Hashtag “FBF”. Hashtag “badass”. Hashtag “laugh your hash off”. This Blog Hop consists of pretty much the greatest people on earth. You should all go visit their blogs because they’re amazing and that’s kind of the whole point of this.

And to make you laugh.

And they’re giving away prizes, too. Get it while it’s hot, y’all.

Funny Bloggers:

Victoria of Angst Anarchy

Jamie of Fits of Wit

H.E. Ellis of H.E. Ellis 

Jessie of Jessie Reyna & Jessie Janelle Reyna

Alice of Alice at Wonderland

Ben of Ben’s Bitter Blog

Jenn of Properly Ridiculous

Lisa of Buddhaful Britt

JC of JCS Bloggery

Sarah of No Cry Babies

Elke of The Pretty Platform

Jack of The Things I see Up Here

Chicks A & E of Too Funny Chicks

Charly of Crazy Life

Kevin of Trailer Trash Deluxe

Karilin of That Nameless Color

Arthur from Pouring My Art Out

Go to these people’s blogs, do what they tell you to do (they’re calling from inside the house), and get free shit because this is America (depending where you’re standing) and in this country we give people prizes for existing. Seriously, it’s not that hard. In fact, I have yet another giveaway today for anyone who follows the rules on this link:

I’M GIVING AWAY MORE GIFT CARDS SO CLICK THIS RIGHT NOW.

Oh, and by the way…

HAPPY HALLOWEEN, MOTHA FUCKAASS!!!

Aren’t you hyped? Because if not, you should be. Halloween is awesome; candy, costumes, dickheaded teenagers running around in black hoodies and making fun of us for being adults… I love this holiday. Also, I might be in my local paper in the coming days because last night was Trick-or-Treat night in my town and some reporter took some pictures of me in my all-out Bride of Frankenstein gear.

Or he may have just been a pervert. Either way, I’m calling it a win.

This is Alessandro and I as Dr. Frankenstein and his wife. Note how the black and white really brings out the antique effect, despite the fact we're using a webcam...

This is Alessandro and I as Dr. Frankenstein and his bride. Note how the black and white really brings out the antique effect, despite the fact we’re using a webcam…

I also tried to recreate the original movie picture, but then I realized my large nose just would not have that. It longs to be heard.

I also tried to recreate the original movie picture, but then I realized my large nose just would not have that. It longs to be heard.

And these were my oh-so-classy stripper shoes that make me 6 feet tall (we measured for accuracy). They're super fun to walk in, too...

And these were my oh-so-classy stripper shoes that make me 6 feet tall (we measured for accuracy). They’re super fun to walk in, too…

I don’t know how many of you are 6 feet tall and above, but fun fact: it fucking rocks. You totally get to tower over everybody and feel like an Amazon queen. (Or Amazon king if you’re a guy… but perhaps not because I’m not sure Amazonian kings existed. But then I always wonder what happened to baby boys born to Amazon women. Do they just do that Spartan thing where they’d throw them off a cliff? Or do they get sent away to Amazonian boarding school because nobody in Amazon-Land wants to raise a male? Also, who impregnates these women? Is there a tribe of super-men who come around every year to bust a nut in some tall warrior ladies? So many questions…)

Anyways, I digress. Another fun fact: without my wig, I totally look like the Joker. Imagine all this makeup with bright red hair.

My face doesn't just look white. I'm caked in WHITE ASS MAKEUP. Like white. I can't stress that enough.

My face doesn’t just look white. I’m caked in WHITE ASS MAKEUP. Like white. I can’t stress that enough.

It was really fun putting all this crap on my face and especially drawing the scars. I used those cheap Party City costume makeup crayons and it still stinks like wax up in this place. Some little kids didn’t wanna come up to my porch because they were scared of me. But that’s okay because apparently, parents don’t teach their children to say “Thank you” anymore so kids just give me a “Fuck-You-Where’s-My-Candy”-stare and hold out their tiny little hands. Then I’m expected to compliment their shitty costumes, give them candy, and tell them they’re cute and to have a “Happy Halloween” just because I’m an adult?!? Well, fuck that noise. Your kids can get razor-blade chocolate for all I care. I don’t give people compliments unless I truly mean them and, quite frankly, their costumes are lame. I wasn’t even drinking last night (at least not a lot), and I still managed to smile at tiny jerkoffs who thought that I was a witch or Morticia Addams. Just because the real Bride of Frankenstein wig was too small for my gangster-size head (that’s an “8” in fitted caps for those of you who don’t know) and I had to reappropriate an Amy Winehouse wig (which I did fantastically), doesn’t mean you’re allowed to be stupid. I will say that wigs are incredibly fun, however.

(I secretly wanna go around wearing different colored wigs, pretending to be someone else. People will be like, “Alanna? Is that you?” and I’ll reply, “I have no idea who you’re talking about, my name is Avada Cadabra. Good day.” And just walk off into the sunset.)

Oh, by the way, why did nobody tell me there are zillions of makeup tutorial videos on YouTube??! All this time, I’m walking around looking like a person who taught herself how to apply makeup (which I did), practically looking like Janis Joplin, wondering why all these other girls came to class or the store or the fucking laundromat with professional-looking makeup. All these years feeling bad about myself for not looking like the girls on PLL when in fact it’s really super easy and all you have to do is watch some random girl put on makeup while she videotapes herself!!!

I blame you all for my ignorance.

But I forgive you because now it’s time to announce the winner of my “Guest Post Competition”…

(Hello, drumroll?)

(Also, this isn’t the winner of the other giveaway, just the one you should know about if you’ve been reading my blog the past week.)

…..

..

.

(Pissed yet?)

.

Well, let me preface this by saying that it was really difficult to pick a winner because everyone’s posts were excellent and funny and different. I thought about giving out more gift cards on multiple occasions, but unfortunately, I’m not rich like that. I’m sorry to those of you who submitted but didn’t win. Remember you can still win a gift card by doing today’s giveaway. You’re all still amazing, but just like the Highlander, there can only be one.

The only problem is that (unlike today’s contest), I chose the winner myself and of course personal biases came into play. I tried to make a pro’s and con’s list. Without divulging what are “pro’s” and what are “con’s”, my lists included such gems as “‘Billy Madison’ reference”, or “My personal opinion possibly skewed by obvious attraction to writer”, or “Poop jokes :)”.

So, basically, after long and careful deliberation, Underdaddy is the winner with his post entitled “Tampon Anonymous“.

Congratulations!

Please be sure to read and visit the blogs of everyone who posted (there’s only 10 so it’s not that hard), and give them your love. They all deserve it for being awesome and as far as I’m concerned, they’re all on my list of funny people. They totally deserve some snaps.

For anyone else who wants to win stuff too, comment here and you’ll be automatically in the running for another $25 gift certificate to the place of your choosing (at least from this list). So comment, people!! And visit the folks for “Funny Blog Friday”!! Happy Halloween, everybody!! And have a very funny Friday! :)

MUNSTERRS

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Just Your Everyday Neighborhood Nonsense, My Boyfriend Has A Mustache, Who Is Alanna?

You Can’t Put A Price On Friendship, But Patriotism Is Expensive.

(And it takes 3-5 business days to arrive. The flags, I mean. Friendship probably takes longer and you can’t get it shipped overnight.)

Alessandro thinks I’m weird because I’ve been buying an inordinate amount of American flags on Amazon.com. I need more friends that understand where I’m coming from. This is a conversation he and I had last night:

Alessandro: “But six giant flags is too many.”

me: “There’s no such thing as being ‘too‘ patriotic.”

Alessandro: “Throwing away $70 on nylon flags is too patriotic.”

me: “It sounds like you’re trying to put a price on freedom.”

Alessandro: “No, I’m putting a price on flags. That we don’t need.”

me: “But what if one touches the ground? We’d have to burn it and then you’ll be glad we have 5 more on backup.”

Alessandro: “We don’t actually HAVE to burn them if they touch the ground. Who’s going to enforce that law?”

me: “I assume the Secret Flag Police. Or Captain America because he just won’t stand for that type of behavior.”

Alessandro: “… So you just want to tie the flag around your neck and run around with a cape then?”

He is not wrong.

unnamed

I’ve also decided that I need someone to hang out with so I’m looking for a cat. If anyone in the Pennsylvania area has kittens (or flags), please let me know. Gracias.

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Just Your Everyday Neighborhood Nonsense, My Boyfriend Has A Mustache, Who Is Alanna?, Why Pennsylvania Sucks

Hey, Hey, Hey! It’s My Birthday!

(And somehow Google knows about it. I’m really afraid that my computer is secretly a Dalek and is collecting information about me so that one day it can attack.)

HOW DOES IT KNOW?!?!

HOW DOES IT KNOW?!?!

Also, it’s Timothy Leary’s birthday. Not that I really care for him. I’d love to stop playing college and run around on acid all day. It’s not that impressive…

But anyways, I’m 22 years old today and it’s my last actually important birthday (technically it’s my “golden birthday” because I’m turning 22 on the 22nd). After this, there’s nothing to look forward to. Maybe being able to rent a car, but who does that?

(The answer is real people with jobs and reasons to travel because they do important jetsetting-type things. I am not one of those people.)

What’s worse though is that I haven’t even been able to celebrate my birthday because I’ve been studying for a treacherous midterm all week and won’t be free until Monday. Plus I have to get my stupid driver’s license renewed and I hate Pennsylvania because they won’t just take my awesome picture from 4 years ago and slap it on a new license (like it’s sooo difficult).

The only difference is that now I'm 5'8".

The only difference is that now I’m 5’8″.

But I like that picture. Why is PennDOT so cruel? :(

On the fun side of things, my town had its annual Halloween parade on Monday night and because PennDOT is in fact incompetent and can’t finish construction on time, they had to re-route the parade right down my street, so [my boyfriend] and I got to sit on our front porch and watch it. (I also got to drink lots of beer and buy toys from the vendors.) Here’s some pics:

My tiger hat. Roarr.

My tiger hat. Roarr.

Alex carved this pumpkin because he's awesome.

[my boyfriend] carved this pumpkin because he’s awesome. (You can’t tell, but he shaved his mustache like 3 days ago. It came back a few minutes later.)

Because the force is strong with me.

Because the force is strong with me.

Thus concludes my birthday saga for now. Adios, amigos!

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