Monsters

As I'm sitting here watching Project Runway reruns (say that three times fast) waiting for Hugs to come home, a commercial comes on with Noah Wyle (do y'all remember him from ER...Dr. Carter, was it? aww...such a cutie) and a chattie chat about saving the polar bears...yeah, the polar bears...I thought it was weird, too. I don't know what's up with the bears, cuz I wasn't really watching the commercial...I was too busy giggling every time he gave the camera a super serious glare as he said "You, too, can help save the polar bears." And hear me out, I think it's great to do what we can to help endangered species, but I mean, you had to see it. Go youtube it. It was just SO. SERIOUS. And I didn't know polar bears were in trouble. ANYWAY. The white polar bears reminded me of this preview I saw for this movie when I was yahooing stuff earlier (yes, I have done absolutely nothing productive all day today. I have been sitting on this couch since about 10:03 am and I've gotten up twice to potty and once to feed myself...oh, and once to let the dog out...oh, and once to help the dog because the cat cornered him in the office and wouldn't let him out...so, it's not been entirely unproductive. I have spent the past three days completely organizing and cleaning my house. It's been better than a month-long vacation. If you know me, cleaning and organizing are like cocaine-cleaning and cocaine-organizing to me...I love to do both. Not drugs...just cleaning and organizing. I talk about drugs a lot, don't I? Moving on. So, I wanted to take today and wrap it up and slap a big bow on it and give it to myself as a present...so, back to me sitting on the couch all day.) 

What was my reason for writing this post???......oh yeah!! Monsters. Okay, so the polar bear commercial came on and it reminded me of this preview for a movie I saw...for the life of me, I can't remember the name of the movie, but it comes out in January...hang on, let me google it...Unborn! That's the name of it. It's about these twins...one wasn't born...monsters...a creepy white dog thing with its head upside down...people walking around weird...yeah, sounds like a good movie. Don't go watch the preview if you get scared easily like me. I'll have nightmares for about three days just cuz of the preview. The dog thing really creeped me out, but I couldn't stop watching it. I don't do horror movies...at all. The last horror movie I saw was Amittyville Horror, I think. I don't even like realistic crime/murder movies...those are the worst cuz it's stuff that can actually happen. I don't pay $9/person to be scared and have crazy dreams for days. I want to see the stereotypical chick flick where the guy and the girl hate each other, then love each other and then something happens and she won't forgive him, but then at the very end, they get together, of course. I want to laugh and go "awwww" and maybe shed a tiny tear or two. 

I've been afraid of monsters my entire life. I'm 26 years old and yes, I take a leaping jump to get into the bed, so the octopus monster that's always been under there can't grab me with his sucker-riddled tentacle arms. After I turn my lamp off and give sweet David a hug and kiss goodnight, I pull the covers over my head and refuse to open my eyes because I know that the ambient light coming off the alarm clock will show that the ghost girl from the Grudge is actually in my ceiling...her long, black hair snaking its way through through the crown-molded corners of our bedroom. Even if it's 1,206 degrees inside, I always always always have to have a sheet and comforter protecting my body from the sharp claws of the red-cladded Village monster...fake or not, that thing was SCARY. A simple sheet won't protect me, but the addition of the feather-stuffed comforter makes all the difference in the world. I pull the sheets closest to the open side of the bed tight tight tight to my body so nothing can come by stealth up that way. 

I credit my irrational fear of things that don't exist to my sister...yes you, Sara. Thanks, ole buddy. When I was a little girl, she would tell me stories of It the Clown (who's not afraid of that guy) and Mike, the Unconnected Hand (yes, his name was Mike). I swear I could hear the pitter patter of fingertips on my bedroom floor at night. For about three years, I slept in the incandescent bask of every single light in my room turned on, sitting straight up, propped up by pillows...just in case I needed to react to something quickly. I had/still have an escape route for any situation. I've heard every single ghost story ever created and I believed all of them...I also believed all of the ghosts or monsters in the stories hid in various places in my room. For years I thought the distance dong ching ding was an old witch playing our piano at night...tapping one key at a time...slowly...monotonously...with one, shriveled finger...until I realized it was the medals from horse shows, Bible drills, and piano recitals clanking together against my wall as the breeze from the fan disturbed their slumber. Of course, I never told my parents because Sara said that ghosts "don't like tattle tails." Eventually, I did tell my parents, risking the wrath of the banshees...Sara got into loads of trouble...and I grew out of my ridiculously imaginative childhood ways...and this was all last month. My family does still give me a hard time about the Unconnected Hand...as shown by a Christmas gift a few years ago...a green glass ring holder...a single hand reaching skyward...ghostly fingers outstretched...awaiting precious metals and stones...and your souls...wah ha haaaa...ack...cough cough...anyways. 

The only monster that still gives me a little jump is the werewolf. I can't stand werewolves. Odd, because my dog looks just like one...  

and he's just as sweet and cuddly as can be...I think. He may transform during a full moon...I dunno. But, I can't do werewolf movies...vampires, no problem. Regular ghosts...piece of cake. Little girl ghosts...negative. Swamp things...maybe. 

So, I don't believe in ghosts or monsters anymore. But I mean, come on...who doesn't pick up a little speed when walking from the garage to the bedroom in the pitch blackness in the dead of night...just in case something creepy is watching you through the window...nobody? Just me? You're all liars. 

Anyways. My puddin bear just got home early! Woot! So, we're gonna make some supper and head to see a movie...Bedtime Stories...shouldn't be too scary. Adam Sandler is a little weird...but I think it'll be fine.

I Love Me Some Christmas!

For Christmas this year, we went the beach the weekend before Christmas like we always do with my mom's side of the family...we rent a house and two connecting condos and we just all pile in there. It's pretty much fantastic. We have several traditions...we play Bingo...the most competitive Bingo you will ever play...on cards that date back to the 1600's. We play Dirty Santa...we've just started that one...two years running now. I don't know if I like Dirty Santa, but it's pretty funny to watch people get all worked up about it. My grandmother, aunts, and mom make the best meals ever. And we give everybody a hard time about something. The more you whine about something, the more you get aggravated about it, so it's best to keep quiet. Here are some pictures from the beach: 

This is me and my siblings. 

This is me, my sister, and my brother's lady friend. 

These are my parental units.

This is cousin Abigail. I have a feeling she's scheming to take over the world one day...right now, she's just formulating a plan to claim all the green beans to herself...I tell ya...that girl is the Jolly Green Giant.

Who says you need to leave the continental US to see a beautiful sunset. 

These are my feets. I love feet pictures. I don't know why. I hate feet. I don't want to touch other people's and I don't want them touching mine. Ick. 

This is the cousins playing a game of volleyball. It turned into black-eye volleyball when it got too dark to see the ball anymore, but no one wanted to quit because it was "dangerous and cool." 

This is me and my sweet love. 

This is my uncle...he's diabetic. So, when he eats 4 pieces of fudge, 3 cowboy cookies and 5 pieces of red velvet cake...he dives into a sugar coma...sleeping like a baby.

This is my other uncle...this is what happened when someone asked, "Will you save the tissue paper so I can use it again?" Yeah, you see why I'm the way I am. 

This is my sister and Papaw...these aren't their normal faces. 

This is the boys rejoicing after their win in Battle of the Sexes...they totally got all of the easy questions. Dumb game.

These are just random pictures of us being silly...like always. 

Here are the ancient Bingo cards.

One of the aggravation issues I referred to earlier is my cousins' clothing...my mom and uncles think their shirts are too tight. Like, "what 10-year old did you steal that off of?"...so, here my mom and uncles are wearing shirts that obviously fit very well.  

We were also able to spend the day after Christmas with my dad's side of the family. We play Dirty Santa there, too. Agh, that game...it haunts me wherever I go. These are my grandparents and all of the grandkids. 

This is my family. Yes, I'm the shortest...I stopped growing in the 4th grade. It's hard for me to talk about it. 

This is my grandmother's sweet potato soufflé...oooh...they should make a movie about that stuff. It can cure any illness and make you burst into song spontaneously. I've written several poems about it. I swear she puts crack in it. 

This is my parents' tree. My mom keeps it up year-round...sans ornaments. 

These are all of us opening our gifts. Both sets of grandparents come over to celebrate Christmas morning with us.

Here are the parental units again. My dad doesn't normally look so...on drugs. Mom got him this little telescoping handle thing for his camera that makes it easier for you to take pictures of yourself or you and a friend when you don't have someone around to take one for you. You just attach it to your camera and hold it out so you can't see your arm or the contraption and you can get a more panoramic view. So, he was happy with his new toy and we made fun of him.

Here are me, my sister and my dad's mom (Mamaw). And Sara's ridiculously awesome earrings. They were actually my other Mamaw's and she gave them to me to wear to next year's tacky sweater party. I'm totally gonna wear them. Sara blessed us by wearing them all morning.

This is my brother. He is half bat. And yes, that is a Canadian goose on the wall. We grew up in a log cabin...there are a lot of animal things around...including my brothers.

This is mom and her hot chocolate and one of her many jogging suits. 

This is me and Noah cleaning the front garden area for the parental units just cuz we're nice. It pretty much looked like an oak tree threw up all over the ferns and bushes. And, no, that's not my hat. I borrowed it from Noah.

We also visited David's family on Christmas day. I realize I didn't take my camera with me, but I'll get some pictures of them later. They're a pile of cutie patooties! 

Anyways. That was our Christmas. It was awesome and we had a blast seeing everybody. Yes, we're a bunch of rednecks, but our families are incredible and we love them so much. 

Nicknames

So, most everybody has a nickname, right? It's always been funny to me to find out how a person's nickname came about. Some are pretty self-explanatory and relatively normal...like Ruthie for me. Some are not so normal...like, Slett, for my brother, Peter. Nicknames are supposed to be a shortened version of your name or a term of endearment. A lot of times nicknames come from a person's habits or "faults"...like the nickname my friends call me..."Oh Awesome One." I can't help it - it's not my fault I was born awesome. But I've noticed that the majority of nicknames I call people or have heard people called are completely far-fetched and ridiculous, which makes them all the more fun.

I'm pretty sure I got the nickname bug from my grandfather (see "Who Are Bogue and Weejer" post). He started off calling everyone is his life by a nickname. I mean, it was years before I realized my grandmother's name was Daphne, not Snuff. When I first met David, I thought his name was Joe. I don't know why. Doesn't sound anything like David. Well, when we started dating, I called him Joe Bear...which morphed into Puddin' Bear...which morphed into Hugsy Bear (after Hugsy, my bedtime penguin pal from Friends)...which morphed into just Hugsy...then just Zee (from the ending sound of "Hugsy")...then Zipper...then Zip. Then, he started calling me Zap. So, we call each other Zip and Zap. Has nothing to do with our names at all.

I call my Mom Mumsy. I call my Dad Dad, so no nickname there. My mom calls my Dad Papsy or Paps or Specialer (don't ask). Sara and I used to call Noah Boogeretta when he was a baby. That turned into Booger and now we just call him Boog. Mom calls Noah Hoop...from his middle name Harper...she would call him Hooper and then Hoop the Scoop and then just Hoop. I call Peter Wep or Weppers. His nickname in Bulgaria was Pepe...which I turned into Wep. My grandfather gave Peter the nickname Luis Ledbetter...which turned into Slett...because when you say Luis Ledbetter fast enough, it merges the words...Luisledbetter...then Sluis...then Slett. Mom calls Peter Stir. First it was Pep, then Pepster, then Stir. Sara and I call each other Skank. Awesome nickname, I know. We try not to do it in public because people don't realize it's endearing and not a cut-down. Sometimes I call Sara Skankface...she answers to both. Sara's middle name is VanNuys...which Mom turned into Vamooser and now Mom just calls Sara Mooser. When Noah was a baby, he couldn't say Ruthie...so, he said Woosie and then Soofie...so, they call me Soof at home. David's nickname in my family is Elvis. One time, almost 10 years ago, David sent me a recording he had done and he was singing and Noah comes up and says, "he sounds like Elvis" and Mom thought it was hilarious and she and the rest of my family have called him that ever since. So, all of our Christmas presents are labeled...Specialer, Mooser, Soof, Elvis, Hoop and Stir.

I do love nicknames and I love people's real names...it's just fun to call them something ridiculous. Here is a list of a few nicknames for my friends:

Blue the Cat = Blueshky/Bluebird/Shmrrgrrrs/Shmear/Shmeow Shmeow/Shmitty Shmat

Seumas the Dog = Monster/Shluppy/Ruppy Rog/Shamtar/Shammers

Brandi = Brandar

Shane = Shanedar

Tris = Trissers

Eric = Erica

Tris & Eric's unborn child = Chappie/Chappita

Ryan = Little Ryan

Chris = Little Chris

Melissa = MelBel/Lissa/Lissers

Melanie = Shmoop/Shmee/Moop

Graham = Graham Cracker (that one's easy)

Erin = Rrrrn

Mike = Shmike

Malinda = Linder/Linder Pants

Amber = Ber/Little Ber/Arbs

Zack = Shmack

Tiffany = Tip/Tippers

Beth = Beffff/Bethers

Billy = Kaniggit

Beth and Billy's unborn child = McNugget

Other Melissa = Missy

Abigail = Abbs

Audry = Odd

Whitney = Shwit

Cousin Drew = Droopy Drawers/Droops

Cousin Jake = Jakkers

Amy = Ames

Glenda = G

Ashley = Shlayfer

Kelly = Kells/The Google Queen

Other Ashley = Ashey/Hoshley

I generally stick close to their names and I'll add "Sh" or "Shm" or "Little" or "ers" and that's pretty much it.

Things I Learned During Thanksgiving 08

(five of the pictures below come from my sister, Sara...there, see? I credited you. Sheesh.)

1. I learned that I can gain 27.35 pounds in a four-day period. That might come in handy one day...I'm holding out for a new Olympic sport. 

2. I learned that if I wear my long sweater and unbutton my pants, I can fit in that extra bite of sweet potato soufflé. 

3. I learned that I will always have room/extra compartments for 13-layer chocolate cake. 

4. I learned that I'm weird because of my family, not because of me. This includes both sides of my family, btw. They're all weird. I forgot to take my camera to my dad's side Thanksgiving. (pic 1: my sister, pic 2: Uncle Greg, Mamaw, Uncle Brad, Mom, Papaw [creator of Bogue and Weejer], pic 3: me and Papaw)

5. I learned that there's a reason I've never been shopping the day after Thanksgiving before. 

6. I learned that five girls (me, my sister, my mom, my grandmother and my mom's friend) can load a Suburban with shopping bags filled with things we didn't need. 

7. I learned that the economy ain't doing too bad because everyone and their mother was shopping at the outlet mall in Destin on Friday. 

8. I learned that women are mean! People will do anything for a $300 Coach purse. Wow, what a deal. 

9. I learned that when I feel like I'm dressed trashy, to just take a quick gander around me at the other people and realize "hey, I'm lookin alright today." Along with that, I learned that most people don't do a mirror check before they leave the house.

10. I learned that my cousin Abigail is scared of my grandparents. hmmm...wonder why....

11. I learned that the lower the health food rating, the better the food is. 

12. I learned that there's a strange cave man creature living in my parent's downstairs movie room. I also learned that the mask I made for a dumb art project in college has many uses and that the old medical instruments (left in picture) my mom found at an antique store look like ancient torture instruments on display and frighten small children and myself.  

13. I learned that my two cousins, Drew and Jacob, will probably be stopped at every security check-point in every airport in the US. 

(and to end with something cheesy, yet sincere)

14. I learned that no matter where you are or what you achieve or your job or your money or anything, that family is so much important and if you ever take it for granted, I will come and punch you in the eye. Why anyone would put anything above family is beyond me. Cherish them, they won't always be around and spend as much time with them as you can. 

Anyways. I hope everybody had a fun and fat Thanksgiving!