Veronica Brush's Blog, page 3

Ladies and Germs

I have the flu.

All of it.

Every flu germ ever in existence thus far is currently residing in my body. Flu germs that have long since retired have rejoined the workforce just to make me miserable.

This is particularly weird because I never get sick. I’m always either healthy or in a state of denial.

During these states of denial, I’m very good at pretending I’m fine:

Friend: How are you doing, Veronica?

Me: Great!  Been really busy lately. So if I look a little tired or pale or like I’m vomiting blood, that’s why.

Friend: Is that why you’re lying on the floor?

Me: I was hoping you wouldn’t notice that.

Friend: Well, you’ve already tripped two waiters. Maybe we should have brunch out some other time.

Me: (Unconscious)

The problem with being sick is that it just isn’t as much fun as prescription drug commercials make it look like.

“I have an incurable disease!” people joyfully declare as they fly kites while riding horses that are jet skiing on the backs of dolphins. I’ve never flown a kite in my life. I blame my doctor for never having prescribed Zurphfleffenbra, which obviously treats psoriasis by giving you an overwhelming urge to fly kites (side effects may include bloody nose, stamp collecting, death, and death-like symptoms).

When I get sick, the first thing to go is my mental capacity. I know this because I start not only tolerating, but actually enjoying made-for-TV movies:

Me: (Explaining the plot to my dog)(That’s not a symptom. I do that when I’m healthy, too.) So this guy and this girl can’t STAND each other. But now they’ve randomly been assigned to complete this task together. I’m pretty sure they’re going to keep getting more and more annoyed with each other until they just can’t finish the task and they let everyone down. It’s going to be a disaster.

(Movie ends)

Me: WHOA! They fell in love! I never saw it coming! Did you see that coming, Dog?

Dog: Yes. And after the first five minutes, I got distracted licking my feet.

(Next movie starts)

Me: Oh, man! Those two really can’t STAND each other. That project is never going to get finished!

I also tend to stay sick for a long time, unfortunately for me. Fortunately for the Hallmark channel, though.

I have a couple of theories as to why my immune system is so ineffective:

1.) My immune system is run by pacifists. So my white blood cells run a campaign of speeches and public service announcements extolling the idea of germs and my body living a harmonious, symbiotic relationship. After a few weeks of this, the germs usually die of boredom

2.) My immune system is run by white blood cells who are very terrible strategists.

White Blood Cell General: As you know, a battalion of flu germs has invaded Veronica.  They are launching a full body assault, headquartered out of her stomach. If we’re to have any hope of defeating them, we have to reclaim her gut!

White Blood Cell Corporal: But, General! The stomach is an impenetrable fortress! It’ll be a slaughter if we go in there! And I have a bad habit of telling everyone how close I am to the end of my tour of duty and how I can’t wait to see my family back home, so you know I’ll be the first one to die in battle!

General: That’s why we make them come to us! I propose we ambush them in the lungs.

Corporal: But how will we get them to come to the lungs?

General: We spread a rumor that Veronica’s lungs have been infected by some very sexy ebola germs. No flu germs can resist the lure of a sexy ebola germ.

Corporal: What if they don’t believe the rumors? Should we have some of the white blood cells dress up like sexy ebola germs?

General: No, no. That would be demoralizing. I propose we infect Veronica with ebola, then convince some of the sexiest germs to join our side.

Corporal: How do we convince them to do that?

General: We spread a rumor that we have some even sexier black plague germs working on our side.

Corporal: I like where this is going!

That’s why I’ve now decided to try a campaign of slash-and-burn warfare, where you make the terrain seem harsh and undesirable.

I will do this with Thai food.

At my favorite Thai place, you can order your food at 4 levels of spicy: mild, medium, hot, and inhumane. When I called and placed my order for some dishes at inhumane spiciness level, they told me I would have to pick up the order myself, both to sign a liability waiver and because they have gotten tired of their delivery cars catching fire.

Even the owner of the restaurant, who is herself from Thailand, gave me strange looks when I picked up my food.

She said, “You realize that food is no longer edible.”

But I held up my chicken satae skewers and proudly declared, “THIS IS WAR!  ALSO, DO YOU HAVE COCONUT ICE CREAM?”

Because if I don’t fight off this flu, who will?

General: I propose we send our best agents into the stomach as spies. They’ll go undercover as flu viruses and communicate back to us what the enemy is planning.

Corporal: But, General! It’ll never work!

General: Why not?

Corporal: Because our two best agents can’t STAND each other!

Secret Agent Ma’am

After a great deal of study I’ve found that social interactions are only awkward when there’s more than one person involved. The conversations I have by myself are never awkward. Not even during the long pauses, staring into my own eyes (which is hard to do when you have a nose).

But when you get more than just you involved, that’s when it starts to get uncomfortable. That’s because other people always ask the unpleasant, overly-personal questions the voices in your head would never ask. Like “What have you been up to lately?” or “Do you have any hobbies?” or “Do you know why I pulled you over?”

“What have you been up to lately?” is the worst, because it usually comes after someone has just told you what they have been up to. And what they have been up to is usually awesome. Whatever it is, it’s usually something to the extent like they took a round-the-world tour in a hot air submarine, but are glad to be home and get back to their regular job as a dragon tamer.

Then these people want to know what I’ve been up to.

That’s a horrible question when I have so very little up by comparison.

You can’t follow that kind of story up with the truth because “Lately I’ve been watching a lot of Taiwanese TV” simply does not impress people. Even after you sing the entire theme song of your favorite show to them. In original Mandarin. With choreography.

Although that usually does bring the conversation to an abrupt end.

Well, somewhat abrupt. It depends on how long the theme song is.

Not that people aren’t impressed when I tell them I’m a blogger and self-published author, working on her second book in a series.

“Wow!” they say. “Do you need to borrow some money?”

Part of the problem is that when people ask me direct questions about myself, I often draw a blank:

Person: What do you do for fun, Veronica?

Me: (Blinking repeatedly) I’m not sure.

Person: What kind of food do you like?

Me: I can’t recall ever eating before.

Person: Do you have a favorite color?

Me: Probably.

Person: Steve tells me you write a blog.

Me: Do I? That certainly sounds like something I would do. If I’m thinking of the right person.

Person: Do you have any food allergies?

Me: I can’t remember.  Maybe I could lick some of the hors d’oeuvres and you can tell me if I start getting blotchy.

Person: What if, instead, we don’t do that?

Me: You ask hard questions.

The best way to handle this is for me to get involved with something interesting so I can tell people about it when they ask.

The second best way to handle it is to spread a rumor that I’m a secret agent and that’s the plan I’ve decided to go with. Because when you’re a spy, everything you do is amazing.

For example, you can tell people, “I just switched to a new brand of shampoo.”

When an ordinary person tells you that, it’s incredibly boring and you may get dryer lint thrown at your face, which is something that happens when you exceed people’s ability to handle the amount of boardness you have caused them.

But when someone rumored to be a secret agent tells you that, it’s fascinating because the possibilities are both literally and literally (the kind that means figuratively) endless. Does this new shampoo equip their hair to deflect lasers? Does it make them turn invisible? Does it give them enough volume that they could use their hair as an emergency parachute? Can their hair translate up to thirty languages at once in real time? For that matter, what did their old shampoo do? Did it only translate up to twenty languages at once after a few minutes of buffering?

And that’s just talking about shampoo. I do all sorts of things in a typical day that are fascinating when done by a secret agent. I check the mail (Check the mail for what? Listening devices? Top secret mission briefings? Really flat terrorists?), I go shopping (For super secret spy equipment? Like guns that look like pens, cameras that look like tacos, beards that look like mustaches, walkie-talkies that look like life-size zebras, and pens that look like guns?), and I sometimes wait in line at the DMV (Nope, that one simply cannot be made interesting, even by a spy).

My point is I generally like people and I’m trying to work on being more sociable. So if you see me at a party, don’t be afraid to come over and start a conversation. Just make sure you talk clearly into the zebra.

The Controversy of Yogurt

I don’t eat yogurt.

I know what you’re thinking: “Is she seriously going to spend a whole blog post talking about dairy products she doesn’t eat?”

To that I would have to say please try to contain your excitement or you’ll hyperventilate before the end of this article.

First, a brief history of yogurt. Spoiler alert: if you eat yogurt, you may not want to know this because some of it may accidentally be true.

Yogurt is thought to date back to the Neolithic period. This was a period of great innovation, hence the name “Neolithic”. It comes from the ancient words “neo”, meaning “new” and “lithic”, meaning “laser eye surgery”.

It was during this time that animal herders began to milk their animals. I imagine the scene played out like this:

Neolithic Man #1: Sup?

Neolithic Man #2: Not much. Hey, what’s Neolithic Man #3 doing out there?

Neolithic Man #1: Squeezing the underside of his animals to see what comes out.

Neolithic Man #2: What a great idea!

Neolithic Man #1: I don’t know. I think it will be like that time he tried to get us all to stick Q-tips inside the ears of bears to see what would come out. I don’t think it will catch on.

Token Neolithic Woman: I like shoes.

But indeed, herd animal milking did catch on. And when Neolithic man changed from ferret herding to cow herding, milking really took off.

The only problem was that Neolithic man needed a way to carry all this milk around and all his BPA-free animal-skin waterbottles were in the turtle shell sink waiting to be washed. So he grabbed the next best thing: an animal stomach.

Don’t be grossed out: he blew on it first to make sure it was clean before he poured his milk into it. The only problem after that was that Neolithic man decided to leave his animal stomach full of milk where he would be sure to find it, next to his car keys.

But then he couldn’t remember where he left his keys. (Which meant that he couldn’t drive anywhere.  Which not only meant that he didn’t die in a car accident, but also that he got more exercise and thus lived longer and had more offspring than those neolithic people that could always find their car keys. And thus survival of the fittest eventually produced an entire planet full of people who are genetically predisposed to not be able to remember where they left their car keys.)

A few weeks later, this happened:

Neolithic Woman: Neolithic honey, I found your car keys and also an animal stomach full of something thick and lumpy.

Neolithic Man: My milk! (Takes a big mouthful)

Neolithic Woman: Don’t drink that! The expiration date clearly says “Best before June 20th, 6002 BC. That was months ago!”

Neolithic Man: (Swallowing) Yo…ghh…urt. (And he died)

The fact that bits of that story were true is not even the reason I don’t eat yogurt.

What bothers me is that yogurt containers always say “Contains live and active cultures”.

Live.

And active.

And cultural!

Eating things that are still alive is wrong.

And picking on the living things that are particularly active is just adding insult to injury.

And putting cultures in your mouth is tacky.

Even lions won’t go after the most active gazelles. They’ll look for the depressed, lazy, smoker gazelles who are not very active (particularly in their own gazelle culture).

When I go to a restaurant and order a steak and they ask me how I want it prepared, I have never in my life requested, “I’ll have my steak live and active, please.” And then waited for a cow to come charging out of the kitchen area, crashing into other diners’ tables. And then said, “Oh, good. I think my dinner’s coming!” But then found out that the guy at the table next to mine also ordered his steak live and active.

We don’t even eat plants live and active. When you order stuffed squash, they don’t bring you a pot with a squash still growing in it. And the squash is not wearing a headband and holding a racket because it was just taken from the squash courts. (And I’m assuming for the purposes of that joke that squash is an active game. I don’t know how squash is actually played. Much like other strange foreign sports I know nothing about like cricket, curling, and parliament.

Well, I hope you have all learned something here today.

Personally, I don’t remember what my original point was. But if I have only inspired at least one angry rant somewhere on the internet, it was all worth it.

Underrated Villains

There are some villains who’s evilness can’t be overstated: Hitler, Stalin, your friends who dare to hold different political beliefs than you in an election year.

Then there are the villains who’s evilness has really been understated. The fruits of their maniacal deeds continue to be pervasive in our lives and yet we hardly take the time to despise them with the despisedness they deserve, despisedly.

So here’s a shout-out to some of my least favorite unsung villains.

1.) The guy who invented the “Insert” key. As an author, I have to wonder how many great sentences were mercilessly accidentally written over because this key exists.  I don’t know what that guy had against words, but personally, as a word advocate, I have no good feelings towards him.

2.) Alexander Graham Bell. He inadvertently invented telemarketers. Even an indirect connection is unforgivable.

3.) People who accept offers from telemarketers. I don’t know who you are or why you do it, but they wouldn’t keep calling if it wasn’t working on somebody.

4.) This next one is so sad because there is an entire generation of millennials who grew up thinking this kind of depravity is normal. Back in the Golden Age (well, maybe Neon Pink Age is more accurate) of the 90’s, people would ride on airplanes. During these flights, a flight attendant would ask you what you wanted to drink. When you answered, “Ginger ale”, they would hand you a cup with three ice cubes and AN ENTIRE CAN OF GINGER ALE! That’s right. They freely and happily gave you your very own can of soda. And then when you finished that one, they’d offer you a second can.

Then a man so evil that I dare not even mention his name came up with a dark plan. Instead of giving people a complementary soda, they would just give people a cup crammed with ice and a tablespoon of watered-down soda. And if you dare ask for a second tablespoon, the flight attendant will glare at you so that you understand that complementary sodas on flights that you have paid hundreds of dollars to take don’t grow on trees. And this villain had such power that not a single airline dared defy him. I dream of the day that his reign of watered-down terror will end.

5.) People who stop at a stoplight too far back to trigger the stoplight to change, stranding people behind them. I will never get those years of my life back.

6.) People who write crossword puzzles. I reject your attempts to make me conform.

7.) The inventor of Bleu Cheese. Feeding people food you know if moldy is unethical, even if it is delicious. (That was pandering. Bleu cheese is disgusting.)

8.) Manufacturers of decaffeinated beverages. Removing the soul from my beverages is also unethical. Does my coffee try to steal your soul? On the contrary, caffeine is what keeps me and countless others from stealing the souls of any humans unlucky enough to encounter us in the morning.

But now, thanks to me, all these villains are a little more sung than they were before.

You’re welcome.

The 300: Reindeer Version

You know that old saying, “You can lead a reindeer to Norway, but you can’t keep Zeus, god of lightening, from striking it down”?

Well you should, because it’s very important.

Imagine you were hanging out on social media and saw an ad for cheap airfare to Norway and you thought to yourself, “Gee, my reindeer has never been to Norway. I bet he’d love it there.” And so you buy two tickets to Norway and even pay the fee for the upgrade to extra leg room for your reindeer because you are considerate like that and you care about your reindeer.

And then you fly to Norway and you and your beloved reindeer are having a wonderful time when BAM! Your reindeer is struck down by lightning.

It could happen.

Maybe you don’t think that’s realistic.

“My reindeer doesn’t even have a current passport,” you say.

But it happens. It just happened to 300 reindeer in Norway.

(Here’s my proof: http://www.providencejournal.com/news/20160829/lightning-strike-kills-more-than-300-reindeer-in-norway/1)

Just like that Gerard Butler movie “The 300” where the Scottish invade Sparta or something.

Only this involved more reindeer.

Although I haven’t actually seen “The 300”, so there might be lots of reindeer in it.

You may be wondering what Zeus has against reindeer. If you’re at all familiar with Greek mythology, then you known that Zeus had this habit of cheating on his wife, Hera. Sometimes in order to keep from getting caught with a human woman, Zeus would turn the woman into livestock.

And so it becomes obvious that this wasn’t just any heard of reindeer. It apparently was an angry horde of 300 women who Zeus had turned into reindeer and then forgot about, all descending upon him at once.

That’s one theory of what happened anyway.

Here’s a more scientific theory:

Reindeer travel in herds and are also very fuzzy. So it stands to reason that sometimes two reindeer will inadvertently (or perhaps advertently) rub together, creating static electricity. That’s how Rudolph managed to power that red nose of his.

So every reindeer in the world is wandering around with a certain amount of static electricity built up. Normally this doesn’t cause problems, but under the right circumstances, it can prove deadly.

By the right circumstances, I of course mean:

(1) Someone decides to lick a reindeer

(2) A large group of reindeer all touch at once, creating a complete circuit

So these 300 reindeer had all gathered together and one of them probably suggested they do “The Funky Chicken Dance”, as large groups of mammals are prone to do.

During that part where everyone do-see-dos, for the briefest moment, all 300 reindeer touched and a million watts of static electricity went off at once.

And just imagine being the person who witnessed this event: a nature photographer or perhaps a prominent reindeerologist. Someone asks you how those 300 reindeer died. You’d probably claim lightning.

Or, if you’re more like me, you’d explain the whole truth down to the last rump shake before the staticy explosion. But people would still look at you with the incredulity that you’ve normally earned.

And then lightning becomes the scapegoat yet again.

100th Post

I tried to tell you people that if you paid attention to me, it would only encourage me.  Now here we are at my 100th blog post.

I hope you’re happy.

In honor of my 100th post, I thought I would share 100 thoughts that I have about stuff.

Then I remembered that I have a life (sometimes). So that list got shortened to 50. But if you read it twice, the math adds ups.

And so I present to you:

100 Thoughts About Things If You Read It Twice

(Some of these I may have already used on my blog. I’ve written 100 posts. Give me a break.)

1.) If you can’t say anything nice, you’re legally obligated to say it on social media.

2.) While it’s true “You can’t spell ‘Lion’ without ‘ion'”, I don’t think that saying is ever going to catch on.

3.) I almost answered the phone today. I’m going to count that as my allotment of human interaction for the week.

4.) For those of you who haven’t done a lot of reading: “Man & Woman meet under inconvenient circumstances, hate each other, then fall in love.” Now you’ve read every romance story ever. Congrats!

5.) The most offensive thing you can ever do to anyone is wish them a “Happy” anything. Not sure why, but it seems to really tick people off these days.

6.) They have NFL Honor Awards. I think they’d be able to fill the time better if they made them the Dis-honor Awards. So many categories: Most Steroid Use, Most Baby Mamas, Most DUI’s Covered Up. I think people would watch it.

7.) I’m glad I don’t get report cards anymore. I really don’t want to see my attitudes and activities summed up. “Distracted; refused to interact with others; ate a lot of cheese.”

8.) Some days my entire to-do list is “Shower”. Those are the days it’s the saddest to realize I’m not going to make it through my to-do list.

9.) Sometimes I look at humanity like that person you want to break up with, but also feel sorry for, so you never do break up, but you keep wishing you would.

10.) I could never be a ninja because I never remember to put my phone on silent.

11.) I could also never be a ninja because my purse is too big.

12.) Why do people ever close their shower curtains? Don’t they know that attracts serial killers?

13.) Sometimes I think that one day I’ll reflect on this and make my therapist laugh.

14.) On the new X-Files show, there is a character who’s name is Dr. Einstein. That makes everything the people say to her sound sarcastic. “Are you okay, Einstein?” “What should we do now, Einstein?”

15.) If they ever made “Twitter: The Movie” (Don’t laugh. When you’re not willing to hire writers, that’s the sort of thing that happens), the first 120 characters would be previews

16.) Wouldn’t “The Man From U.N.C.L.E” be your cousin?

17.) I recently got my first social media message from an unfamiliar Muslim group that could have been ISIS. I shut off my computer, opened my window, and shouted “I need an adult!”

18.) My dog and I would be great on a soap opera. Most of our conversations happen while we stare dramatically at each other.

19.) I chose to become a writer because being a person who sells their plasma paid too well.

20.) I also became a writer because choosing a career that people respect is overrated. I’m assuming.

21.) When actresses say they were very comfortable filming a nude scene because they had a “closed set”, I wonder if nobody told the actress that the movie is getting a world-wide release.

22.) I understand that Soylent green is made from people, but what I really want to know is just is it gluten free?

23.) Music is important because how much more obnoxious would it be to have a speech get stuck in your head and just keep playing over and over and over?

24.) I’ve never been a fan of the number 23.

25.) Waldo’s shirt is only half red, half with white stripes, but if I was him, I still wouldn’t chance going with the away team on Star Trek.

26.) What we need to take down Kim Jong-Un’s North Korean dictatorship is an anxty teen with a grudge and two love interests. That never fails.

27.) If being outraged at things on the internet burned more calories, we wouldn’t have an overweight problem. We’d have an underweight problem.

28.) I’m pretty sure I ended up how I am because my mother read a LOT of books while she was pregnant with me.

29.) I don’t appreciate it when people call me back after our phone call drops. Inevitably I’m standing in public, talking unawares into my phone when it starts ringing.

30.) Maternity wards are one of the worst places to try and find a date

31.) Sometimes my life is like those old “Choose Your Own Adventure” books: “You take homemade rolls out of the oven. Do you (1) use a spatula to take them off the baking sheet or (2) burn your fingers again?”

32.) My dog is kind of a dis-service dog. She knows when I have to get up early and keeps me awake those nights.

33.) Some mornings I set my cup of coffee down and then can’t find it. Then I have to get more coffee so I’ll have enough energy to deal with that problem.

34.) If I ever started a band, I’d name my band “Tonight’s Show Cancelled”. Crowds make me nervous. I think the band name would help with that.

35.) I hope when I die that my obituary makes my life sound really exciting just in case my ex-boyfriend reads it.

36.) If they made a holiday called “Go to Work Like Normal Day”, on the night before, would you get too excited about it to sleep?

37.) Speaking of holidays, Tomorrow Eve is a day we just don’t celebrate enough.

38.) I think 5 is the cap on how many birds you can see outside your window before you start thinking “It’s happening! Hitchcock was right!”

39.) I don’t know why people don’t like going to their high school reunions. I love to go and tell everyone I’m a blogger now so they have to pretend to not be impressed.

40.) Why is the idea of “breaking the internet” so popular these days? Don’t people realize that only ends in sitting on hold forever, waiting for customer service to fix it?

41.) If a song plays on the radio, but most of the lyrics are bleeped out, does anyone really hear it?

42.) What is a Social Media Influencer? My guess is it’s like when I said “Man, I hate mushrooms” on Facebook and two other people were like, “Me, too!” Trend started. You’re welcome.

43.) Breakups are only bad when more than one person is involved.

44.) When you become a parent, do you instantly gain orange-peeling skills? Because I’m not sure I want kids, but I love oranges, yet I cannot peel them. It might be worth it.

45.) Usain Bolt told an interviewer he’s not a morning person. Glad to know I have what it takes to be an Olympian: not liking mornings.

46.) In case you haven’t noticed I have a distorted view of reality. I showed up late, after reality had already started, so they had to seat me in the very back row, which is why I can only kind of see reality if I squint really hard.

47.) Why is it okay to answer with a two word sentence “I am”, but not shorten it to I’m?

48.) I chose not to allow testimonials on my site because I’m a very humble person. Also, if my blog has changed your life, I’m pretty sure you’re reading it wrong.

49.) I’m not superior or inferior. I’m just plain erior.

50.) A little suffering never hurt anybody.

Finding the Cloud Behind the Silver Lining

Remember the depressed kids in high school? Often called emos or goths, they could often be found bouncing around in skimpy outfits on the sidelines during sporting events.

No, wait. I’m thinking of the chess club.

The goths dressed all in black, absolutely never smiled, spent all day writing poetry about death, and radiated sadness.

Did you ever wonder what happened to those people?

The good news is that they grew up to get jobs. The bad news is they all got jobs as Olympic interviewers.

Sure the TV networks dress them in bright colors are require them to smile, but once the interviewer starts talking, you discover that you can take the goth out of the darkness, but can’t take the darkness out of the goth. That’s why all the interviews of the Olympians go something like this:

Interviewer: Steve, you’re one of the most beloved athletes of all time, and the whole world was cheering you on just now as you won a gold medal and set a new Olympic record, just two seconds shy of setting a new world record. How do you come back from a loss like that?

Steve: Excuse me?

Interviewer: You failed to set a world record while the whole world watched. How humiliated are you feeling right now?

Steve: Uh, actually I’m quite proud of winning the gold and setting an Olympic record.

Interviewer: It’s noble for you to put on a brave face for the cameras, but tell me honestly, how do you think you’ll try to self-medicate the crippling depression caused by this devastating loss?

Steve: Actually, me and the silver and bronze medalists were talking about going to Disneyland.

Interviewer: To buy drugs?

Steve: No, to ride the Matterhorn.

Interviewer: There you have it, America. Words of defeat from a crushed man. Make sure to tune in tomorrow for our special report “Utter Failure: The Tragic Tale of the Rise and Fall of the Once Great Athlete Steve.” We’ll examine what went wrong and find out where he is now.

Steve: I’m right here! I’m about to be awarded the biggest award in my sport!

Interviewer: (shaking her head sadly) Such a wasted life. Now we go to Bob, who’s in the studio with Cheryl who just ruined her life by winning a worthless silver medal.

While it was a strange choice for the networks to hire all these goths, it’s a good thing that the goths didn’t end up with other jobs. For example:

Fast-food Worker: “And you wanted fries with that? A tragic mistake that will surely haunt you the rest of your career.”

Midwife: “It’s a girl! After 9 months of preparation and lots of labor pains, how disappointed are you that it’s not a boy? Oh, wait. It looks like there’s another one coming out here. And it looks like, yes, this one is a boy. How devastated are you that this one is a boy?”

Puppy trainer: “Sit! (Puppy lies down) When you see such a huge mistake like that, even by such a young pup, you have to wonder if it was a mistake even sending them here.”

Pastor: I’m sure we all feel the tragedy of this day with you as I now pronounce you man and wife. You might as well kiss your bride.”

Party clown: “I’m here with the birthday girl, Suzie. Suzie, you’re turning six years old today. That must make you ask how much life do you really have left in you? Well past your prime already, do all the people here celebrating your life make you look back on your past failures and ask if it was all worth it?”

Concierge: “Well, there are rooms available, but only on the 2nd and 3rd floors. If you don’t even have a chance of getting a rook on the 1st floor, why would you even want to waste your time here?”

Therapist: “I wonder what’s going on in your head right now and if you’re asking yourself where it all went wrong?”

Taxi Driver: “After an all around discouraging week, where do you plan to go from here?”

Weather Forecaster: “You can try and mentally brace yourself, but you can never fully prepare yourself for this kind of disappointment and heartbreak. And that’s the 7 day forecast.”

Cat: “An unsatisfying end to a very disappointing day. There just wasn’t one thing about this day that went like it should have. You really expect so much more out of people at this level and to see this sort of end result is just an embarrassment.”

On second thought, that last one could work out quite well.

Things That Go Bump in the Water

You, unlike me, may have noticed my absence last week. It may have caused you to feel depressed, demoted, detangled, decaffeinated or even defenestrated.

What I’m trying to say is that you are kind of a wuss.

But I have a good reason for taking a week off my blog. I’ve mentioned that I was stage managing a play and horribly sleep deprived.

That was an obvious lie.

I was actually at the Olympics, competing for my country.

When I say “my country”, I don’t mean America.

I mean my own personal country. I recently declared myself a country. Then I proudly beat out everyone else in my country for a spot on my country’s Olympic team in every sport.

Almost.

It turns out I run so slow, I can’t even beat myself in a race.

So I entered myself in the Olympics. I knew they were adding several new sports to the Olympics this year, like Olympic Golf (much less exciting than it sounds). I decided if I really wanted to win a medal, it wasn’t enough to be just better than everyone else in my country. I needed to pick things that I am possibly better at than people in other countries.

That’s how I picked to enter myself in the following Olympic spots:

-Olympic dog walking

-Olympic gluten-free waffle eating

-Olympic taking the plastic off of new DVD’s

-Olympic using your turning signal

It was not until I arrived in Rio that I was informed those sports were not being recognized by the Olympic committee anymore. Or possibly ever.

But nobody ever said winning an Olympic medal was easy. Except probably Michael Phelps.

Undeterred, I quickly scanned the list of possible sports to compete in.

And that’s how I became my country’s first Olympic Water Polo team.

You probably didn’t see me in the broadcast of the Opening Ceremonies, but rest assured I was there and I marched. It’s just like how a lot of people missed the United States because the Portuguese spell the letter “U” with an “E”. In Portuguese, the name “Veronica” starts with whatever letter you missed while you were in the bathroom.

But I’ll tell you how it went.

I was greatly honored to be selected to carry our country’s flag, narrowly beating out my fellow Water Polo teammate, my puppy. She was licking herself when the voting for flag bearer was held.

It was going well until I did the inevitable and tripped.

And kind of knocked my flower-bedazzled tricycle guide off her tricycle. Then my flag landed on the ground, requiring that it be respectfully burned.

Which is how I ended up on fire.

I remembered to stop, drop, and roll. But it turns out the confetti now sprinkled all over the ground was quite flammable.

Also, I tripped the guy carrying the Olympic torch. He dropped his torch, lighting even more of the confetti on fire.

Then there was mass panic to figure out which was the special Olympic fire and which was the Veronica fire.

So overall, it went better than I expected.

As for our Water Polo match, we played our best and gave 110%, but unfortunately we did not receive a medal. Really there were two factors that caused this:

(1) My puppy refused to get in the pool. She was convinced the whole summer Olympics was just a ploy to make her take a bath, which, to be fair, it was (Thanks for trying anyway, Rio)

(2) I don’t want to sound like a sore loser, but the other Water Polo team was cheating. I won’t say which country it was, but their name rhymes with China (the fancy dishes). Not one of their players ever responded “Polo” no matter how many times I shouted “Water”, so how was I ever supposed to find anyone with my eyes closed? And then one of them threw a ball at my face.

Olympics

The Olympics started recently. I can’t tell you exactly when because I have been stage managing a play and only just now was able to finish my escape-tunnel out of the theater for a quick break.

While I wait for them to find me and drag me back to the theater, I’m watching Olympic highlights.

The Olympics are important because they are a time for us to set aside our differences and come together as a world for a little friendly competition. That competition is what country can design the ugliest outfits for their athletes to wear during the opening ceremonies. America is always a very strong contender.

Every 4 years before the summer Olympics, we pay Ralph Lauren loads of money to go down into his basement and pull out the exact same blazers the athletes wore the previous Olympics. This strategy works well because every time, it’s been 4 years longer since blazers were in style.

My theory: Ralph Lauren has a crush on JK Rowling and that’s why he always dresses the athletes like they’re on their way to Hogwarts.

But the Olympics isn’t just for athletes. The Olympics is also a time for all the spectators to come up with ridiculous conspiracies to be upset about. The Olympics are always plagued with real problems like government corruption, the doping of athletes, and concern over the local mosquitoes and what will happen should they suck the blood of all those doped up athletes.

But those aren’t the kind of scandals that interest people. We’re much more concerned with things like why were the American athletes wearing the colors of the Russian flag for the opening ceremonies? Has the US Olympic team secretly sworn allegiance to Putin? Is Russia about to invade?

The answer is of course that it was not supposed to be the colors of the Russian flag, but just the colors red, white, and blue.

Why red, white, and blue?

Obviously red, white, and blue are the colors of not only the Russian flag, but of another well-known flag. I am referring to the flag of the Cook Islands, who are running a long campaign to slowly take over America. Ever wonder why there’s so many cooking shows on TV these days? Subliminal propaganda to make you feel good about the Cook Islands.

You should be concerned.

Even more concerned than you are about Brazilian mosquitoes with roid rage.

No Small Mental Breakdowns

Why dost I talk in such fashion as to make the lovely reader work harder than one shouldst have to on this, the world of wide webs?

Because I recently got into theatre again, despite my family’s threats to move and not tell me where.

I know what you’re thinking: “She spelled ‘theater’ wrong, permanently tarnishing not only her reputation, but that of the internet, as well.”

Though I am loathe to point it out, you are wrong.  Wrong, wrong, wrongity wrong!

In college, I minored in “Theatre” and that is how they spelled it on my degree.  And it was not a mistake. Unlike how they left the ‘r’ out of “Bachelor’s Degree”.  (Makes it hard to explain on job applications that, while I did graduate college, it was only with a Bachelo’s degree.)

“Theatre” is spelled that way on purpose.  In order to show that we are better than everyone else, we spell the word wrong.  This technique of flipping the last letters only really works for “Theatre”.  Believe me, I’ve tried using it with other fields.  So far nobody seems impressed when I tell them I majored in “Liberal Arst”.

Anyway, my family is never happy when I get involved in theater because I get a little…well, a maybe a lotle, crazed.  My role in theatre is usually some sort of management like Stage Manager, who stands on the stage and freaks out.  This is different from the Director, or “Audience Manager”, who sits in the audience and freaks out.

Stage Managers and Directors have to freak out because part of our jobs is to envision what the play could be in a perfect world with an unlimited budget and no fire codes or laws of gravity to follow.  Then we yell at people when the reality doesn’t match that vision.

This may sound simple, but it often takes months of hard work and sleep deprivation to build yourself into an adequate frenzy.  The costumers, set designers, tech crew, and actors are all depending on you to set the bar for crazy behavior.  If you set the bar too low, the other people in the show might not feel comfortable exploring the full bounds of their crazy.  And theatre just can’t happen without thoroughly crazy people.

Like the saying goes, “There are no small mental breakdowns.  Only small stage managers causing a massive scene over the fact that someone moved a prop six inches to the left on the prop table.  AND THAT’S NOT WHERE IT BELONGS!!!”

The hardest part of theatre is the week leading up to opening night, which is called “TECH Week”.  “TECH” is an anagram that stands for “Theatre Exploding in Catastrophic Havoc”.  That is a euphemism to make it sound more pleasant than it is.

Tech week is a disaster and it tends to eat up every second of your life, so you have to plan ahead and get all your regular activities done the week before, like blogging, showering, and seeing the sun.  (That’s why theatre people are so fond of the spotlight: it reminds them of what the outside world is like.)

I didn’t include grocery shopping on that list because it is unnecessary for management.  As a Stage Manager, I don’t have time to eat during tech week.  But I don’t need to.  If I die, I know the actors will not enter the stage with their correct props at the right time.  So I survive not on nutrients, but on sheer determination.  Also, I can sneak bits of the prop food from backstage.  Sometimes it’s not even made of wax.

And somehow, thru the sheer magic of theatre, it all always comes together and manages to avoid being the disaster it rightly should have been and in fact was mere hours before the audience arrived.

So as you read these words, I am at the theatre, un-groomed and yelling at someone, possibly the wax food, because our Hamlet can’t remember where he put Yorik’s skull, which is particularly weird because we’re putting on Peter Pan.

And don’t tell anyone, but I’m loving every minute of it.

Save