Fish Fell Out of My Ear

I leave Indiana until June on Thursday. Today is Monday. Madness. That means that, at the very most, from this exact moment, I have 70 hours left in Indiana. I can’t even…what?! 70 hours. That’s 140 episodes of New Girl including the commercials. That’s 233 and a third pizzas baked back to back in one oven for 20 minutes (and let’s face it, they’re never REALLY done in 20 minutes.) That means that, at the most, I can listen to “Born to Die” (Lana Del Rey: check her out if you haven’t already. SNL was not a strong show for her, but holy canoli does she shine in recordings) 882 times. But then I also have drive-time without Lana in my car, sleeping time, family time, time when I’m listening to “Video Games” instead, or time when the interwebz aren’t working so I can’t bask in the glory of Lana’s Stevie Nicks esque voice (sans the dying goat aspect.) Which therefore dwindles down my numbers to about…67. Roughly. I’ll keep a tally and report back before leaving.

Things I’m looking forward to leaving behind in Indiana this go-around:

-          My crappy internet connection

-          My neighbors constantly burning trash (headache, anyone?)

-          Snow

-          Ice

-          Salt on the roads from the aforementioned weather phenomena

-          Cluttered room (working on decluttering said room between thought processes)

-          A cold room when it’s cold outside (50 degrees inside. Any takers?)

Things I’m not looking forward to leaving behind in Indiana this go-around:

-          My family

-          George (furry brown brother)

-          Ruby (Russian cat determined to conquer the world, one hairball at a time)

-          Fat squirrels (the Florida squirrels look so underfed, poor babies)

-          Friends WHO I FULLY EXPECT TO SKYPE WITH ME REGULARLY.

I suppose I should finish up the packing and just get this stuff done. Former roommate and lifetime friend is flying into Indianapolis tomorrow (no capes) and I promised myself I’d have all of my packing done by the time I leave to pick her up. BLUE, 32, HIKE HIKE HIKE! 

The Short One from Night

I apparently like to type in my sleep. Ahem. From a recent conversation with a good friend of mine, in which I had fallen asleep but continued to write, I bring to you: Adventures in Sleeping. (I'm totally hoping this becomes a series, be tee dubs.)

• Adam Burks

  • ok cool
• 
  

  19 hours ago

  Hannah Richardson

  • sirrt'
  • feel asleep
  • awake ish
• 19 hours ago

  Adam Burks

  • sirrrrrrrt
  • '
  • hahaha
• 
  

  19 hours ago

  Hannah Richardson

  • IF you would just come to indiana
  • i wouldn't have to apologivze about failling asleep
  • i'd just fall asleep aand after i give it to you i won't need agin i mean you'll type an dinever ever know what's woing on
• 19 hours ago

  Adam Burks

  • after you give what to me? haha
  • the computer?
  • HANNAH
  • DID YOU FALL ASLEEP AGAIN

What Will Happen When I Grow Old

Singing in the shower this morning, naturally happened upon "64." Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm 64?

I sincerely hope that when I'm 64, I'm not dependent upon others feeding me my meals. Society and life are changing drastically: 64 is the new 63. Such a difference, I know. But really, if I had to depend on others to feed me my meals at only 64, I'm thinking something in my life better be really messed up, and it better have been something that I could prevent happening.

When I'm old, I hope I'm a sassy sort of old lady. I need to be like a "Cool Runnings" lady. When I look in the mirror, I don't want to see old, wrinkled skin. I don't want to see gray hair. I don't want to see saggy boobs. I don't want to see enlarged knuckles from arthritis. I want to see PRIDE, I want to see POWER, I want to see a BAD ASS MOTHER WHO WON'T TAKE NO CRAP FROM NOBODY! I want to be the old lady on the street that everybody is afraid of, but once they get to know her, they love. And still secretly fear her.... I want a grouchy set of animals. I want a driveway that twists and threatens children from wandering too far back into my neck of the woods. I want a candy-cane fence, with a gumdrop sidewalk. I'm going to roast any children who find their way to my house. WAIT. NO. DON'T TURN ME IN! I'm kidding. Children aren't as tasty as you would expect. Slightly tart. Although, they do sit well with the cats.

I want to be an old lady that even parents don't want to mess with, yet shows up to every school function because I've been watching the children out of my window, making notes about their personality. I will take my Facebook creeping skills and convert them into real-life applications. Genius. I'll finally have some worth in the world! When the children ask how I know so much about them, I'll tell them the great history of social media. They'll love Mark Zuckerburg (or however you spell his name), and they'll chuckle at the idea of dating sites.

So, chillin's, you can put your dreams away for now. I am lost for some time. I get lost in my mind. The Head and the Heart will tell you that in one succinct package. Can I? Not legally without citing them. But, I would think that getting lost in your mind would involve getting lost in your dreams. Or maybe I'm thinking improperly? My old age is already beginning to show.

Bring it, 22. I'm ready for you and your sly ways.

To the Love of Your Life

Fully aware of the fact that we have never met, I must first address our future (far, far away as it may be.) We will spend it joyously, watching our children whip our grandchildren as they disobey them for the millionth time. We will take great pride in raising our offspring with such militaristic mindsets (nothing makes me happier than this, you will tell me over and over.) "But," you will tell me, "I hate to watch them cry. We should cease this activity in the quickest way possible." I will walk to the barn, just east of the scolding, and fashion one of our 23 pygmy goats with a leash. As Rowan (the goat) and I promenade through the yard, you will sing a song, carrying melodies only the great Eddie Money could dream into existence. At once, our grandchildren will behave, and all shall be merry again around the dinner table (set with cold apple pie, pecan pie, steak, potatoes, and other tasty treats.)

Looking back from this point, however, perhaps I should introduce myself. I am nobody, yet everybody you will ever wish to meet. I am like you, only slightly less Canadian (eh?), not as artistic (my historical characters could never hope to compete with what you create), and lacking in the lady parts. I am, your future husband.

Convincing you of this matter means little to me, as of now, for I have traveled to the future. I have seen that we reside together in a small log cabin (which I cleverly crafted by hand. Thank me later with sexual acts.) We have goats, giant donkeys, and mules (thank me later with sexual acts.) We make love regularly (thank me now with sexual acts.) We complain about growing old, while silently, we look forward to the grumpiness accompanied with age. We bicker, we fight, we cook, we smile, we laugh; you tell jokes, I tell lame stories with no point. Our existence is important only within the confines of the cabin (did I mention I publicly humiliate you into destroying your entire comic business? Minor detail, of course.)

There is, as I have hinted at, no escaping. You have 24 hours to reply to this confession of love. If you reply with a "yes" to my question of marriage, I will greet you on donkey, carrying you away into the rain. If you reply with a "no," I will greet you on mule, being sure he kicks you, but nonetheless, taking you as my own. If you choose to not reply, I will greet you on the backs of 17 pygmy goats (I'm quite clever at my ability to harness them together and create a sort of pygmy walking carpet) (did someone say "skills"?) You have no choice.

Pleasure to finally be talking to you. Pack quickly.

A Popular Title Everyone Will Come Across While Googling

Oh my Google. What a wonderful tool. 

Oh my Google, ain't no other engine like this! 

IT MEANS YOU DON'T HAVE TO ASK EVERYONE OBNOXIOUS QUESTIONS

YOU JUST PLUG IT IN AND BAM YOU KNOW!

Oh my Google <3 

Siriusly, people, Google is still applicable in modern society. Just because it's easier than ever to bug your friends with ridiculously silly questions ("heyyyyy do you know what song this is???? i heard it on x106.7 at 10:32 pm and I know all of the lyrics, but what song is it?????") GOOGLE THAT SHIT, BRO. If you ask me, chances are, I'm Googling the answer too. "How do I...?" "Well, here's a link to tell you all about it!" *attaches Google.com* "That doesn't tell me anything!" "IT DOES IF YOU ASK IT TO!" 

Which reminds me of the days of AskJeeves. Oh Jeeves, you smart butler, you. If I had a question, I'd come to you. But if I just wanted to know about a certain topic, I'd go to Google. Even still, although Google functions better with questions than it once did, I will phrase what I'm wanting to know more about in a way that makes it not a question. Simply because way back when the dinosaurs roamed the Earth and asked their brontosaurus friends to tell them why Justin Bieber cut his hair instead of Googling it, question-asking on Google was unheard of. 

Let's take a trip down memory road, shall we? Remembering the search engines that tried to compete with Google. One that pops to mind? Alltheweb.com. Whatever happened to that jewel? IT GOT CRUSHED BY GOOGLE'S AMAZING POWERS, THAT'S WHAT. Then there was one with a dog holding a flashlight. Not sure what it was called, but I sure did love seeing that dog. Such a Qt. I don't even remember others! Askjeeves.com. Bing.com. OH WAIT. Bing still exists. But why? Bing can't even begin to compete with Google. Not only is Bing more complicated than Google, it's also more precise than Google. Isn't that a good thing, you say? NO. Because Google allows for your brain to at least exercise a little bit of power in searching for the articles among the millions it will have returned to you. You hear that? Brain power. Churning away. Bing takes out all of the work. Maybe in some futuristic society where everyone is a gelatin glob and moves around on hovering chairs, never knowing about plants or trees or rusty robots, Bing will be a better search engine. But while the mind is still curious enough to have that urge to explore and learn more than just what they are researching, Google will dominate. 

Google also brings forth multiple genres of accomplishments. It has email (gmail!), it can map stuff out for you (no more need for mapquest!), it can search images all over the web (did someone say bikini pics of Natalie Portman???), AND it even has its own web browser. For all of those PC users too cheap to cough up the money for a Mac (i.e. myself), Chrome is the closest we can get to feeling like we're using a Mac. Yes, we could download Safari, but that really doesn't make sense beyond the Mac realm. For now, I will use, and cherish, Chrome. It is my heart, it is my soul, it is my everything. Much like my future husband who has recently been named "Mr. Lee" due to a play on words revolving around my future name. 

I'm L.R., I approve this message, and I hope you find it by Googling it.