The Snub-nosed Analrapist

I love to eat at the restaurant at Bass Pro Shop. The food is great; I get to wander through the store and look at bears, turkeys, deer, etc. while waiting to be seated; and I get to watch the fish in the fish tank while I’m eating. On one of my visits I noticed a fish with a human face. He had a large nose that protruded from his body and a smug mouth. I have dubbed him the Snub-nosed Analrapist. Eric asked the bartender what his actual name was, and we discovered that he is actually called a Unicorn Tang. Well, if the fish naming authorities were just going to add “Tang” to the end of a short description for the fish, then why couldn’t I? I named several other fish in the tank.

The Unicorn Tang, aka the Snub-nosed Analrapist:

The Unicorn Tang is a sneaky fish that lurks around corners and strikes its prey when they least expect it. He doesn’t eat other fish. He violates other fish.

The Fat Ass Tang:

The Fat Ass Tang is quite large. He mostly likes to sit inside caves and not move. When he does venture out into open waters, he can be recognized by his morbidly obese shape, his black and white stripes, and his inability to swim like a non-obese fish. The Fat Ass Tang leverages two fins to swim, but not the correct two fins. He uses two fins located near his tail – one above his large body and one below. The fastest he can swim is about 0.0001 miles per hour. He is still faster than me.

The One Eyed Tang:

The One Eyed Tang fell victim to the Snub-nosed Analrapist. He wasn’t paying close enough attention and had his eye “nose raped” out of his face. He always keeps the Snub-nosed Analrapist within vision of his one remaining eye. He is a strong believer in the phrase “Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me.”

Note: For more information on the analrapist in its human form, check out the scientific documentary “Arrested Development.”

How pitted is too pitted?

Brent made an awesome video of our Virginia Beach surf trip! While we were in the ocean I began singing a song “We set sail for discovery…we are sailing on a troubled sea, the waves are rising and the water is deep.”

Brent: Why are you singing that?

Me: It’s a song.

Brent: From what?

Me: Deadliest Catch!

When it came time to make the video it was the perfect song to use! Here’s the video that Brent put together from the trip (includes Eric, Brent, and me):

If a large wave is coming for you, it’s probably not a good idea to hold a flat board in front of your face…seems like it should go without saying.

Cristy buys grown-up furniture and can’t afford food

I live like a 19 year old man who just moved out on his own, but doesn’t yet quite understand the importance of furniture or how the appearance of your apartment can lead to future friends or the lack of said future friends. The only difference is I’m 26 and I’m a girl. I should have a pretty apartment filled with rustic antiques and flowers and pictures held within frames that I’ve decorated myself. This apartment concern was never an issue for me before. In college I always had a messy room. And I never cared what people thought about it. I would yell at people who stepped on my various piles of paper.

Me: “Watch out! You’re ruining everything!”

Friend: “What?”

Me: “You’re mixing the piles together!”

Friend: “You’re kidding right?”

I never kid about paper piles.

Although my room looked like a mess, I knew what the various piles meant and moving the papers around was the equivalent for me as someone putting a cup on a wood table without a coaster for an actual adult.

Things changed when I graduated and got a job. I felt the need to act more like an adult. This didn’t necessarily change the way I lived…it just brought a lot of shame to the way I lived. It took me months to actually unpack due to a smoke issue. So, I lived like a vagrant that happened to stumble upon a storage unit to take shelter in.

My neighbor was a heavy smoker and the quality of the wall/vent setup was comparable to if the builder had decided to create a building out of plywood and connect the various rooms with paper towel tubes to allow for air flow. So, I had smoke pouring in through the air vents, power outlets, and, for some reason, an abundant amount from behind the fridge. My only safe zone was my bedroom. It was the only part of my apartment that wasn’t connected by air vent to the smoke apartment. So I kept everything I could in my bedroom – mostly within my closet because it had no air vents. I lived like this for over a month.

After breaking down and crying in my leasing office, I was given a new place to live. My brother helped me carry all my belongings across the parking lot to my new place. We luckily finished right before a huge thunderstorm hit.

At this point I was now in the apartment I currently live in. I continued to live the shameful way I had chosen for over a year. My apartment had organized paper piles and I didn’t have real furniture.

My whole perspective changed when I bought a new sheet set. That’s all it took. I bought some fancy sheets and I decided they didn’t fit into my bedroom setup. The set came with a bunch of pillows, so I would need to prop them up against something. But, my bed was right below my window (my window that doesn’t keep cold air out, so I would have to wrap my head in a blanket in the winter months).

I was going to need to move my bed out from under my window so that my pillows could lean against something. But it would look stupid if they were just against the wall. I was going to need a real bed. And a real bed deserves a real nightstand. And the plastic drawers that I was using as a dresser would take away from the overall grownup look of my bedroom…so I’d need a real dresser.

I went furniture shopping and found the perfect set. I would fill my bedroom to the brim with an entire new furniture set. It was beautiful. Furniture isn’t exactly that cheap though. I knew things were going to be tight going into this, but I underestimated my need for food. My plan was to take the money out of savings to be able to afford the furniture. When I got my bonus and tax refund a few months later I would put that money directly into my savings account to repay myself. I took out the bare minimum required from my savings. This left me with less than $50 to live off before I went home for Christmas (which was a month away).

I couldn’t do anything. I was living off of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, cheese and mustard sandwiches, and some carnation instant breakfast that I found in my cupboards. People apparently began to get pretty concerned about me when I started bringing odder and odder things for lunch. By the end I was bringing in a bowl, spoon, and packet of cream of wheat to heat up in the microwave. Several people offered to buy me lunch, but I wasn’t looking for handouts! I could do this. I remember a few days before I headed home I had less than $3 left to spend. I was eating grated parmesan cheese for dinner and sugar and graham cracker crumbs (that I had bought a few months back to make a cheesecake) for dessert.

I also resorted to limiting my electricity and water consumption. I was on a very strict morning workout plan at the time, so I would save on water by showering at the gym. This wasn’t anything new since I was working out in the mornings before the bedroom furniture and after the bedroom furniture, but it was added pressure for why I HAD to go to the gym in the morning. I also kept my heat very low. Warm pajamas were all I needed – especially since I was no longer sleeping under the drafty window.

Looking back on this all I can think is: It was totally worth it.

I’m 26 Today!

I decided the best way to spend my last hour as a 25 year old would be to cut out pictures of bears to create a bear party for me. Barnabas brought a cake!

He’s such a thoughtful bear. Also, ABC Family decided to extend its Harry Potter weekend into my birthday – clearly a birthday present for me. It’s going to be a good day!

cristywatson.blog.com

The fact that someone typed this into Google and it brought them to my blog makes me so incredibly happy. I’m not sure if it’s someone that knows me or a complete stranger, but either way it seems crazy to me that someone actually searched for this blog. I usually only draw in the “rope burn” crowd. I wish I had some good advice on rope burn treatment for you guys. Here’s one tip: you probably shouldn’t put lemon juice on rope burn, that seems like it would hurt.

A sure fire way for me to put a smile on my face is to look at recent Google searches that resulted in a visit to my blog. Today this is what I see for top 10 searches:

Here’s a picture to make everyone happy!

Irene spit in my face

This is a super super suuuuuuuuuuuper delayed story on hurricane Irene. I haven’t worked on a blog post in quite a while – my life has been completely consumed by work, the flu, doctor appointments, surgeon appointments (remember my disdain for my shins – they must have read this story and are now punishing me), and just a general lack of wanting to do anything because I’ve allowed all the little (and big) annoyances in my life affect me too much. They say that the best way to combat being unhappy is to put a smile on your face, so I’m going to put a smile of my blog face…that’s me trying to say that I’m posting a story! I’m not so good with the words all the time.

When hurricane Irene passed through VA, I made an afternoon of cuddling up inside with movies and blankets…and standing on my balcony filming Irene’s fury.

At first I thought we could be friends.

But Irene had other things in mind.

She sprayed her rain spit all over my face and pulled a piece of my apartment complex off.

I don’t like Irene.

I happened to be filming the exact moment Irene decided my apartment complex had too much metal on it and thought she’d help out by tearing it off and throwing it to the ground.

Look what I did!

I done good. I done real good.

I rip your chest off now

When we were younger Eric, Brent, and I would fill our summers with random challenges and games that we came up with. We’d often build stuff and go on adventures. When Eric got a little older he started going on my dad’s annual deer hunt with him. This left Brent and me to our own devices. Brent had just gotten a new remote control race car, and we decided it would be a good idea to use our sidewalk chalk (a staple of any cheap summertime fun) to draw a racetrack in the street. We lived in a housing development, so the roads were very un-busy and the drivers knew to keep their eyes peeled for children

We created a well thought out track that involved too many twists and turns for Brent to actually get his race car up to full speed. Nonetheless, he was enjoying himself. And I was having fun watching him try to stay in the lines of the thin lanes that we had etched out moments before.

In an act of spite, our next door neighbors who we regularly beat in water wars (the battles that took place between the two groups were far more intense that your run of the mill water fight) decided to take it upon themselves to destroy our creation and our fun. To be fair, the main instigator was actually a boy that was over at their house. But also to be fair, they provided him with the buckets of water and then joined in.

I was annoyed with what they were doing and attempted to scatter them like a wolf would its prey. Brent would then be able to pick them off one by one. I chased them in circles through our two yards. This is when the friend boy – we’ll call him Jeffrey – decided that he wanted to ruin Brent’s new toy. Something snapped. Nobody messes with Brent’s toys! My eyes grew wide and red with anger and I charged Jeffrey as he carried his 2^nd bucket of water intended for the race car (the 1^st one missed because he lacked the basic skills required to meet weapon to target). I did not lack the same skills that Jeffrey did. I approached him like a heat seeking missile, gaining speed the entire time.

When I hit Jeffrey, it was like a scene from a Discovery Channel documentary. Imagine a great white shark launching her prey into the air, but only injuring him, so that she could return later and finish him off.

I put both my arms out and struck Jeffrey with all the power behind a full speed sprint. Too bad for Jeffrey we had reached the end of the yard and were now in street territory. It was also unfortunate for him that he decided not to wear a shirt in the warm summer weather. He flew through the air and then proceeded to slide across the street on his bare chest.

The force behind my mighty shove left me in the street on my knees, which were slightly bloodied. Seconds after the incident unfolded, Jeffrey was sprinting to my neighbors’ backyard where the parents were. His entire chest was a mess. I’m sure you all have scraped a knee at some point in your life. Imagine if that scrape was deeper and if instead of it being on your knee it was on your chest.

I sat in the street with a few tears rolling down my cheeks.

Brent: Are you ok?

Me: Yeah. I don’t want to get in trouble.

Brent: He deserved it. And he’s not going to say anything. You’re a girl.

Me: Okay.

Brent: That was so funny! His was flying through the air parallel to the ground and his feet were still running midair.

Both of us: Hahaha

It’s a good thing that Jeffrey was a boy. If he was a girl, I would be concerned about his ability to nurse his future offspring. But since he’s a boy, he will just have some scars that he can make up some crazy story in an attempt to impress girls. So, it’s really a win win situation.

Ccoofe!

Recently, feeling a little goofy, I began calling coffee, ccoofe. Shortly after, I began to imagine a character in my head every time I referred to this wonderfully delicious beverage. I’d like to introduce you all to Ccoofe!

Ccoofe is the biggest advocate of drinking coffee. He adheres to a strict schedule of coffee consumption that he enforces to those around him. Ccoofe will resort to trickery to get others to consume his drink of choice. Ccoofe loves drinking coffee.

An update from the pond

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything…my life has been filled with tons of doctor appointments and weird occurrences that I’ll write about later…but it’s taken away from my precious time that I could be sitting at my computer…and it’s put me in a bad mood so I figured that any stories that I wrote would be angry rants and not funny or even fun to read.

Fortunately, I have been able to steal away enough time to make fairly regular trips to one of my favorite walking spots (since I still can’t run…booooo). I’ve been heading over to the pond to visit with my animal friends. And guess what!?!?! There’s new animals. It’s like the ducks and geese went to an animal networking dinner and were all like “we’ve got this awesome pond that you should all come visit…and there’s this amazingly awesome girl there that likes to stare at us all creepy-like and follow us around, but that’s ok, we like her anyway.”

Bun Bun the Bunny Rabbit

I’ve actually seen bunnies around before, but I forgot to mention them. So, we’ll just pretend that they’re brand new. I only see them for a split second usually, as they’re running into the bushes. After the positive reviews about me at the animal networking dinner, this little guy decided that I was trustworthy enough to pose all sexy-like for:

The Snake

A snake appeared out of nowhere one day during an evening walk and became increasingly more aggressive each time I passed. He seems to only appear at sunset, which means I avoid the pond post 7:30 PM. I read about water snakes online and learned that they like to spend time in trees…and the thought of him dropping from a tree onto my head is all the imagery I need to keep me away from the pond. I took this picture the second day I ran into him in the area I now recognize as snake territory:

Don’t get me wrong, I like snakes just fine…as long as they’re not launching an aerial assault on my face.

On a side note, the appearance of the snake meant that I felt the need to warn others who spend time at the pond. This means that I have now spoken to a fisherman that spends a lot of time there…which means I can’t live in my own little world while I’m at the pond. Since we’ve now spoken I have to acknowledge the fact that he does exist and make small talk as I pass by. This would be fine for most people, but my running/walking time is time that I like to have to myself with no interruptions or acknowledgment of the existence of other people. I’m coping better than I thought I would though.

Blue Heron

I didn’t know blue herons ate ducks.

Before you get all worried about the thought of this blue heron eating little ducklings as they nap by their mother…I’ll let you in on a little secret…blue herons don’t actually eat ducks! My old pal was acting awfully creepy though. When I took this picture, he was hunched over and slowly approaching a group of ducks. When they realized what was going on they took off running. I wonder if the blue heron gets invited to the animal networking dinners. Now I feel sad at the thought that he doesn’t. That’s ok – I’ll set up some dinners for just the two of us. We can talk about our love of creeping up on the ducks.

Ducks

My biggest supporters at the animal network must be the ducks. They have warmed up to me surprisingly fast. They now run up to me as I approach:

I didn’t think the pictures really captured the excitement that passes through the ducks’ little heads when they see me so I took a series of videos. Here’s one of those videos:

An ordinary person would argue that the ducks are being fed by people and they assume that I’m going to provide them with food. Seeing as how I have in fact observed this, one would naturally think that’s what would go through my mind. I have decided that they want to be my friends though. My dad tells me that there’s no reason I should believe otherwise.

I’m hoping they invite me to the next animal networking dinner as an honorary guest!

Duck, Duck, Goose

There are two places I regularly go running – down the street in front of my apartment complex (tree man territory) and across the street at a pond. The pond isn’t that big (hence pond and not lake), so I make a lot of trips around it. One thing that I dislike about the pond is the number of creepy dudes that seem to emerge from the office buildings surrounding the pond at running time. What more than makes up for that unpleasantness, is my many animal friends that live and frolic there.

Ducks

The ducks are skittish. Honestly all the critters are, but the ducks do enjoy some distance left between me and them. My favorite thing about the ducks is that they have baby ducks. Every spring a new batch of ducklings appears and I get to watch them learn to be animals. I’ve learned a few things about ducklings:

1. They like to be in constant contact with the momma duck. This means pushing and climbing as they meander through the pond.
2. They are confused. Always. Whenever I run by and the momma duck panics, the ducklings just scuttle around in the duck cluster they’re always a part of.

I also like to watch the drake mallards chase each other around and the see the pursuer get nervous when he realizes his proximity to me. It makes me feel powerful when the “tough” duck runs away. I like to feel powerful.

Geese

The geese and I have a complicated relationship. They love to stand on the sidewalk even though they have perfectly good grass and pond water all to themselves.

The geese are very vocal about not wanting me around. I go back and forth between allowing the leader goose to feel powerful by giving a wide radius in response to his warning hisses…and choosing to display my own dominance by staring him down until he backs off.

I like to think the interaction goes like this:

But it goes more like this:

Even though many of our interactions are hostile in nature, I think we have a perfectly healthy relationship.

But then again, I sometimes think they geese also came down to VA from NY (where I went to college). When I was in college I went for a run with a friend that was trying to start working out. We decided to run around a lake and ended up chasing some hostile geese. It turns out they were mamma and papa geese trying to keep us away from their babies. So, we stopped the pursuit.

But, I think my chasing of those geese stems from my childhood interaction with a goose at a farm. I was feeding him bread and he bit my finger. I guess no one ever told him not to bite the hand that feeds you. No more bread for him.

Blue Heron

The pride and joy of the pond is the blue heron. He swoops in and hides along the shoreline with his weird bending legs and awesome feather hair.

I have a little game I like to play with him. It’s called “Cristy tries to take Blue Heron’s picture, and Blue Heron flies away.” I’d like to think we’re both winners of the game. By the time I get my camera to picture taking mode, Blue Heron is flapping his wings. I always end up with a mediocre picture.

He’s been a little nervous around me since one of our first meetings, when I literally scared the shit out of him. That day, Blue Heron saw me approaching and decided he should seek shelter in a tree. He then proceeded to release his bowels from high up in the tree. On a side note, I really don’t think this is normal behavior for this type of bird. He looked really out of place perched in a tree because of his large stature.

Any day I see Blue Heron is a good day.

Dead Fish

Every now and then I see a dead fish floating in the pond. I like to look for it every time I make a lap around the pond.

I don’t really have much more to say about the dead fish.

Things I don’t like: creepy dudes

I generally manage to avoid them. Our only interactions are an exchange of stares: creepy stares on their end and an angry stare on my end.

About a month ago there was a guy coming in and out of one of the buildings. It appeared he worked for a carpet cleaning company. One lap around I went to swat a fly or do something of that nature and he thought I was waving I guess, because he started waiving at me. Each lap he was outside and ready to greet me.

Unfortunately, he built up the courage to speak to me. Near the end of my run he stopped me:

Guy: “Do you like to eat out?”

Me: (timidly) “Sometimes”

Guy: “Would you like to get dinner?”

Me: (after a pause and while making my “oh dear God, why is this happening” face) “Sorrrrrryyyyyyy”

Guy: “Oh you already have someone”

Me: “Yeahhhhhh”

Me: “Thanks though, that was sweet to ask” (Trying to end the awkward situation in the most pleasant way I could)

I don’t see carpet cleaning man anymore.

Ending on a non-creepy dude note:

Here’s what I have to imagine other people see when they observe me:

Soda Everywhere!

I was just looking through the pictures on my phone and came across this one:

Thanksgiving last year, I was trusted with buying all the supplies for the dinner preparation and treats for the day (my older brother was out of town and my little brother doesn’t live in the same location…he was just coming down for the weekend).

Because my legs work so fantastically well, I fell while bringing the 7 Up up the stairs at my apartment complex. The box hit one of the stairs and the end opened up, releasing half of the box through the stairs. Some of the cans managed to make it down to the bottom level and make a pretty big mess. Luckily the stairs in my apartment complex are outdoors.

I then texted this picture to my family with the caption “Cristy fell down.” At least that’s what I thought I sent…my phone autocorrected it to “Crusty fell down.” And apparently the picture wasn’t very clear on their phones, so I then got some confused follow up calls asking who/what Crusty was and what they were looking at.

Cristy gives herself a concussion

As documented here, I’m not so good at the sleep to wake transition process. This became even more clear in March 2011. I gave myself a concussion while trying to snooze my alarm clock.

I’m not an early morning person, but I have forced my body to adapt to very early wake-ups so that I can get to the gym and work out before going to work. Because I can’t do anything in moderation, this quickly escalated to morning workouts, lunch runs, and after work runs. Unfortunately, this all came to a screeching halt in July 2010 when I had to undergo knee surgery. The knee surgery resulted in a long rehabilitation period which meant I slept in past 5:00 AM each morning.

I’m now to the point where going to the gym is completely fine, but my body refuses to wake up in the morning. So, I’ve been working out later in the day. I still make a feeble attempt to wake up super early each morning, which just results in me feeling like a failure first thing in the morning…every morning. I hear the awful noise that happens a split second before the alarm goes off and instinctively spring up to hit snooze.

Luckily, I don’t rely on just one alarm to wake me up. I keep my cell phone at the end of my bed on a table so that I have to actually get up to silence the rings. It’s like a fun little obstacle course every morning, where the prize is more sleep. I’m very good at problem solving if it’s to avoid being awoken. I have the process down to a science.

1) Sit up.

2) Propel myself forward (on my left, non-surgeried knee).

3) Reach in a full stretch to the table to silence the alarm. This mirrors some sort of Pilates exercise.

4) Slingshot back to a sitting position.

5) Fall backwards onto my pillow.

I always thought that it was a slow, slouching motion that resulted in me being back in a sleeping position. But the events that unfolded on that March day have lead me to believe that I actually fling myself backwards at a rate comparable to that of a spaceship leaving its launch pad.

I had just snoozed my cell alarm clock and prepared to rocket myself back to sleep when something went horribly wrong. I wasn’t lined up with my bed. So, I ended up slamming my head, at high speed, against my nightstand. I immediately went back to sleep. Not so surprisingly, I didn’t remember what had happened when I actually woke up.

When I walked into the bathroom my nose felt like it was filled with liquid. So, I blew my nose. I was shocked to see blood pouring out.

Then I came to the realization that I had hit the back of my head and blood was coming out of the front of my face. I’m no doctor, but I know that this isn’t a good sign. I went about my day, and managed to survive – even though I did not feel that amazing – so I consider the results a success.