Appropriate Outbursts

Like most 3 year olds I too believe the best place to throw a temper tantrum is in the supermarket.

Unlike the majority of toddlers, however, I aim my rage away from the brightly colored cereal boxes and focus it on those smug check out jerks.

I mean, yes, I am buying a frozen pizza, chicken wings, mango sorbet, and a toblerone but it's not like your Saturday night is going so great either. I want to bitch slap the smirks off those simpering 16 year olds. And no I don't need help carrying my bags to the car; but since you offered you could hold my redbox DVDs.

Well I didn't come here to be scorned by the likes of you; insolent whelp! See if I shop here again!

What's that you say? Sorbet is buy one get one free?

 See you next week.

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Verdict: guilty pleasure

He saw my downstairs mix-up

In 2006 a friend and I went to a pricey outdoor concert. We staggered around in 92 degree weather doing our best to ignore the lure of $12 water. I slathered on the 85 SPF sunscreen and watched high kids stare at their right hands in wonder. We sat through rain, Canadian ska acts, and "comedy" routines.

We met some fascinating folks, got some programs signed and saw some amazing bands.

Oh and I accidentally flashed some guy.

In my heat beleaguered state I forgot that an essential step for bathroom privacy involves locking the port-a-john. Also I naively assumed when I asked my friend to guard the door he would stand near it and not 12 feet away.

Now I have a slight fear of germs so I had perfected a method of evacuation that ensured no part of me would touch that seat. Unfortunately, this also means that when that unassuming hippie opened the door he got more than he was bargaining for.

Above all else that memory is the stand out experience of three days of music. I wonder it it's his as well?

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Listenapalooza

I Exercise my Right to be Lazy

I spend more time imagining driving to the gym, mapping out biking routes, and picturing my perfectly toned lady abs than I ever do exercising.

I went on an insane three hour bike adventure earlier this week. As I powered up the final hill I got a burst of self confidence. I made it! I defeated you hill! I'm on top of the world! Or at least the top of this hill!

My self-esteem took a slight dip when a 65 year old man breezed past me and complimented my fine pedaling. Being outstripped by someone who qualifies for Medicare frightens me.

Maybe I should work out more than twice a year.

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Ear Happiness: Don't listen to this when exercising

Are You There Judy Blume? It's me Anneke.

Mom used to put scotch tape across my bangs when she was giving me haircuts.
Cutting along the tape created a natural line and thus produced only slightly crooked fringe.
Kitchen scissors + tape = terrified 7 year old with a bowl cut.


I'm sure this is unrelated to my reoccurring nightmare of being stabbed in the eye.

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What I'm listening to: Anything but Rebecca Black.

Brief Encounters With Unrecognized Genius

 My brother, like the majority of the people in my family, is a bona fide, incontrovertible, terrifying genius. He epitomizes the salt of the earth, unsung heroism that is America.

His hip-hop rhymes can heard at the following myspace address: http://www.myspace.com/lethalproductionsent. He croons under the moniker DJ Barely Legal. His skills are so fresh it's almost criminal.

  Tonight, as my frozen pizza slowly cooked in the oven, DJ BL (as I like to call him) came in from the garage (his office). With a quizzical look on his freckled face he approached me with a query.

"Anneke, imagine if scientists built a rocket that could travel faster than the speed of light. If they equipped it with a telescope they could see into the past. We could see stars and planets forming. And if we pointed it at the earth, we could see Jesus getting crucified. And the dinosaurs."

Then he paused, the ensuing silence was pregnant with meaning. Meaningful meaning. My father and I were so overcome with awe we could not reply. DJ BL retreated to the garage, undoubtedly to compose more cerebral ruminations. My father and I were left to contemplate the DNA that crafted such an individual.

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Put this in your gramophones, post haste! Saddest Song EVER

Jo-Bro Blows

 I consider myself to be a classy-ass lady; I drink my Boone's Farm from a glass. Which is why I am flabbergasted that I can turn on PBS and see the likes of Nicholas Q. Jonas. I was so affronted my monocle fell out and I had to fetch my smelling salts. I nearly got the vapors. Luckily whenever I watch PBS I always make sure to position myself near a fainting couch just in case. For shame PBS, for shame.

This Guy Doesn't Look French to Me

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Promptly Put This Song in Your Ear. What You Know

I Can Has Dignity?

Who's crazier, people who take pictures of their cats wearing doll clothes or people who actively seek out pictures of cats wearing doll clothes? Simpletons: have some internet dignity. Lol Catz are waste gash.

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Listen to this dummies!    Set Fire to the Rain