Dog-Sittin'

So, I dog-sit for my cousin quite a bit. She has two regular size poodles. I have a non-regular size poodle.



Here is Molly (my non-regular size poodle) wearing my favorite scarf:



Here is Gilda wearing my favorite scarf:



Sometimes, I don't dog-sit so much as the dogs sit on me:

Love Rant: Pearle Vision!

So. I had to make an eye appointment to get my eyes checked. It's been about two years since I had my last exam.
Time to get them peepers a stronger set 'o' specks before I start all out Mr. Magoo-ing around town.

Upon a recommendation from my Papa, I decided to go to Pearle Vision.

So I walk in to Pearle and am greeted right away by a friendly gay man who directs me to the waiting area. The most important part is that he was friendly. I only mention he's gay because sometimes it's nice to walk in a place (especially in the suburbs) and be like, "Phew. My people." I can get a long with almost anyone. I like almost everyone. And I have a ton of patience for people. But sometimes, especially since I'm so visibly gay, it's just nice to know you won't be judged and that for a change, you won't get the "up and down" while someone tries to figure you out. Maybe this friendly gay man was secretly criticizing my barn jacket from gap kids in his head and how it didn't match my shoes BUT his friendly smile did my little ticker good.

Then the friendly gay man did all my initial tests. I am notoriously bad at the "hold still and don't blink while a poof of air is shot at your eye test" but it only took him twice for each eye to get it done. Nice shootin', dude! He also took 3D pictures of the inside of my eyeball!!! Uh...AWESOME. The insides of my eye look like OUTER SPACE!!! Don't believe me??
Observe:


EYEBALL (not my eyeball):




OUTERSPACE:


Uncanny, right? I'll refrain from discoursing on the possibility that there is an alternate universe IN OUR EYEBALLS.
For now, at least.


So then I got my peepers checked by a nice doctor. The doc showed me and explained the 3D eyeball images. That conversation went like this:
HIM: (Pointing) Ok so what you're looking at hear is eye mumbo jumbo blah blah retina blah blah nerves.
ME: *Half interrupting him, unable to contain my excitement over seeing my eye in 3D* WOW! That's awesome!!
HIM: ...yes. Yes it is quite cool. Anyway, this is your other eye part and it attaches to this and don't worry about these dots that's just the alcohol we use to clean the machine, you don't have melanoma or anything.
ME: Oh. Ok. Well that's good.
HIM: Yes.

Then the doctor sent me back to the friendly gay man to pick out frames and check out.

Ok, sometimes, when you're a tiny lesbian that looks like a 13 year old boy, it gets old constantly having to "explain" why your style is the way it is. I mean, I'm sure on some levels it's difficult for everyone to find things that fit their style and I know everyone has their hang-ups and insecurities.
BUT, occasionally, I think it's a hard thing for people to wrap their brains around that I'm not trying to be different. I'm not trying to look like a boy or a man. I'm not trying to make a statement. I'm not trying to challenge gender norms. It's a hard thing for people to understand why a girl wants to wear boy jeans or a boy shirt. I get...gender is one of the most fundamental ways of categorizing people. But, I'm not trying to do anything other than be myself and for me...that means sportin' converse sneaks and kickin' it in boy jeans.
All I want to do is exist in the world in a way that's comfortable for me. So yeah, I buy some clothes from the boys section. Yeah, my hair is super short. Yeah, I could watch Mythbusters ALL DAY LONG (and get super excited everytime something explodes) and yeah, I always carry a pocket knife.
It doesn't mean I don't like being a girl. And it doesn't mean I want to be a boy. And I'm not even trying to be ambiguous. It just means, this is me and this is how I roll. Most of the time (99.9%), it's not a problem. No one has ever been *really* ugly to me (I can count on one hand the number of times I've been called a "dyke" in a nasty way). But, especially in the suburbs...there are stares, I've seen people "titter" at me out of the corner of my eye or behind my back and one time in a restroom some chicks all out laughed at me. This sort of BS really doesn't bother me. It's actually the simple stuff that can be the most difficult...

Like...clothes shopping. I do it almost exclusively online. Because it feels weird to shop and pick out clothes in the boys section and then think, "which dressing room should I go in?"
Like...Hair cuts. I don't get bent out of shape over it, but it does get old to hear, "Oh. You like it short, huh?" Every. Single. Time. I. Get. My. Hair. Cut.

I will fully, 100% admit that most of these hang ups are completely my own. I get really insecure when I feel like I make someone uncomfortable. It's just weird to feel like you've made someone's head explode because you're a chick and asked for a number 2 razor to be taken to your hair. Is some of it in my head? Sure. Absolutely. I think a lot of everyone's insecurities are all in their brain. But it some of it real? Yup. It's gotta come from somewhere.

Anyway, all this to say...picking out eye glasses frames. Ladies frames on one side of the room. Dude frames on the other. Look, I totally get that eyeglasses are a little more utilitarian. Every pair of frames I've ever had have come from the ladies section. I'm not saying that I wanted to pick out frames from the men's section. But, well, here's what happened...

So friendly gay man asked me, "What kind of frames are you looking for?"

I pointed to my current pair of glasses and said, "Something similar, maybe I'd go with a plastic frame. But I like classy, simple and classic. Preferably black frames."

So, he starts pulling pairs off the shelf. We try this, we try that. I find a couple of half frames I like. So, we're looking at those and then he suddenly goes, "Oh honey (gay men are pretty much the only people I'm ok calling me "honey") let me check your prescription, I think it's too high for half frames."
And sure enough, dorky von dorkerton that I am...my lens will be too thick to go in half-frames. Oh well.
So we're looking some more and I start trying on some plastic frames. He starts handing me some and can tell by my reaction I'm not so hot on what I'm putting on my face. The shape of the glasses weren't right for my face, most of the plastic lens in the section kinda subtly curved up and looked dumb on me. My face is kinda square, so anything curvy looked dumb. So, I find a pair I can live with but friendly gay man can tell I only like them enough to live with them. So friendly gay man says, "Hang on. I think I have something you'll like"
And then friendly gay man then walks across the store, to the men's section and comes back with a pair of frames.

I put them on.
And they are perfect.
They are the right shape.
They fit me well.
And they are black, simple and classic.

There was something about the shape and the size that just worked on my face. The difference between men's and women's glasses in terms of style really isn't much, I get it. I'm not saying I couldn't have found SOMETHING in the women's section. That's not the point.

So, I put them on and I know they're perfect and so I say, "Perfect! Done and done!"
He he's like, "Wow, that was easy!"

And I kinda laughed but I wished I had thanked him for listening and I wished I had thanked him for knowing. I wished I had thanked him for not forcing me to say, "Eh. The feminine look doesn't do anything for me." Dude looked at me and thought to himself, "Oh. I can tell by this person's converse sneakers, loose fit jeans and jacket from gap kids that I probably shouldn't suggest the pink frames." He knew what I wanted and was willing to go to the other side of the room to get it for me. Even though what worked for me was *gasp* out of the men's section and *gasp* I'm a girl.

I really wanted to hug him. So often, I'm completely on my own when it comes to figuring out style stuff. Which is fine, most of the time I prefer it that way because most of the time the people who try to help are like, "what about the pink?" "how about a bra that boosts?" And I'm like, "Aaaaarrggg you don't get it."
I wanted to hug this guy for getting it. It might not have seemed like much to him, but to me it was pretty awesome.


I actually had fun picking out my frames AND THEN this friendly gay man was like, "I have a surprise for you!!" I was like, "TELL ME!" He's like, "YOU GET FREE SUNGLASSES!" And I was like, "THAT'S AWESOME!"
And then we went over to the sunglasses section and he asks, "What do you like?" I said, "Aviators".
So we try on some aviators and they're not really working for me. They dipped a little too low and made me look like a bee. I ask him what he thought. His reaction was kinda, "Eh."
Then I see a pair of super awesome, retro with a touch of funk Clubmaster Sunglasses. And I say, "THESE ARE AWESOME!" He says, "Oh yeah, those are great. I talked an old lady out of those earlier today, they weren't working for her."
And I put them on and THEY WERE AWESOME. So I got them. For free. Ray Bans. Ray Ban sunglasses. For free.
I had them in my pocket later that day, along with my ipod and thought to myself, "Shit, I hope I don't get mugged. I've got like $300 worth of stuff in my right jacket pocket alone! And that's not counting the 12 bucks and 10 dollar borders gift card I have in my wallet!"

So I love Pearle Vison. They are nice. They gave me free Ray Ban sunglasses. But even nicer than free sunglasses was the guy who helped me. I love people who do their job well. And I love connecting with someone and feeling like they "get" you without having to exxxxplaaaaaaain yourself. Even if it's just for a fleeting moment to pick out stupid eyeglasses frames. Thanks, friendly gay man. I'm sending you a big hug.



I will post a picture of my new frames once they come in. For now...check out my super awesome sunglasses! I asked my Dad what he thought of my new shades and he said, "You look like Elvis Costello".



























What these sunglasses say: Allison, I know this world is killing you. But my aim is true.
I haven't quite decided if I can pull them off yet, but I honestly don't really care.
They're too cool. And I am in desperate need of cool as my eye-glasses
progressively get more and more like coke bottles.


















So, to recap...
Why getting my eyes checked was awesome:
1. I found out there's an alternate universe inside my eyeball.
2. An awesome dude helped me pick out the perfect frames.
3. Elvis Costello sunglasses for free.

How To Sing About The Days of the Week

Hey! Rebecca Black, if you read this blog (duh, everyone reads this blog), I just wanted to tell you...I think your song about Friday is great. It's pretty fun, fun, fun, fun, fun, fun, fun, fun too. I mean, who doesn't want to get down on Friday? I'm serious. You do gotta get down on Friday. And I can actually relate to your song, because a lot of times...I have a hard time deciding what seat in the car to take too. The front? The back? Most of the time...I end up having to sit in the front, since most of the time...I'm driving. But when I get the opportunity...I love to kick it in the back seat. That sounds kinda dirty, but I don't mean it that way.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I don't hate your song. One time, when I was a kid, I made up a song for the sole purpose of asking my mom if I could go to the local corner store to buy some candy. I had to ask with some flair, obviously, to convince her to say yes (and then convince her to give me money to buy said candy). And the cuter I was...the better. I mean, would you be able to say no to a darling child SINGING you all the reasons why he/she should be allowed to go to the store and buy some candy?? I think not. AND if youtube had been around back then (when I was a kid), I probably would have shot a music video, hired a black man to rap a rap in the middle of my song (which would probably go something like: Your girl needs candy. Her name ain't Mandy) and emailed it to my mom for even more added flair. And if I had done all that, maybe someone would have found it and made fun of me too.
I also made home movies with my brother and cousin. Every summer. One time we made a movie all about aliens invading earth for suckers (we had pretty one track minds as kids: CANDY). Another summer we made a movie called "LOL" it was a spin off of SNL. We made fun of Peter Francis Geraci and ER and Full House and The Eagleman commercials. You're too young, none of that probably means anything to you, but for its time...LOL was timely and insightful. What I'm saying, is that you better bet your 7:45 ride on the highway, that if we'd had the ability...we woulda posted that shit ALL OVER the internet. And you better bet your friend on your right that we absolutely would have done it to maybe, possibly, "get famous". I could just see how it would work in my brain, "OMG! What if Lorne Michaels sees me in LOL, in sketches I helped write, and decides to put me on SNL?!?!?" In fact, I can probably guarantee you that it crossed my mind to send him a copy of the tape. I can also guarantee you that based on the content and quality of homemade films I starred in as well as my delusions of fame and grandeur...I was dropped on my head as a child. A lot.


I feel old writing a post like this. I think every generation has some sort of epiphany when they realize that it was much easier to be a kid when they were a kid. Or at least easier to stay innocent. And here I am, at only 25 years old, thinking, "Damn, it was so much simplier to be a kid when I was a kid." With the internet, we live in a very exposed age and when you're a young person trying to figure out who you are and how to make your mark in this world...that sucks. I think it gets harder and harder to be a kid everyday. But that might just be because I'm an old lady. I also think girls' skirts are too damn short nowadays.

I think when you're a kid, you shouldn't be afraid to look like an asshole (in the goofy, crazy, sense not the jerky sense). And boy howdy...when I was a kid I was not afraid be an asshole or generally be a giant dork. Which is to say-I was never ever thinking in my brain, "Man, I wonder what other people are going to think of me when I put a pillowcase on my head and pretend to be an alien and then stomp all of this construction paper city because I'm super pissed that earth does not have enough suckers to satisfy my sucker needs." It's always SUCH a heart-breaker for me when I see kids make the conscious choice to not say or do something they wanted to because they're worried about what other people will think. It kills me inside.
I think it's really hard for kids to be goofy nowadays.


Anyway, I just wanted to say, Rebecca Black, don't be afraid to be an asshole. I think you should re-shoot your video and wear one of those giant M&M costumes. I think YOU should cover the "Bob Dylan" cover of your song.

And also, if you want to sing about the days of the week again, take some notes, do a little research because this is how it's done:

Love Rant: Conversations With the Broski (Episode 2)

This conversation illustrates my brother's and mine relationship in a nutshell. This is also why unlimited texting was invented:


BROSKI: (via text message)

ME: Yiiiiiiiikes!!! Stay warm and be safe driving!

BROSKI: I'm gunna shoot myself. Tell everyone I love them.

ME: Stop it. Don't even joke like that. Not funny. Put on your man pants and shovel your damn car out.

BROSKI:You put your man pants on and...and...yea!

ME: Hey. You didn't live through Snowpocalypse Chicago 2011. That's a weenie snowfall you got there.

BROSKI: Baaaaahahaha imagine having four of those...that's Menomonie....and I don't know if you looked at the date...it's late f@$%&*$ March!

ME: Um. In Snowpocalypse? There were drifts higher than me! And the wind blew in Abominable Snowmen that I had to fight off with only a shovel.

BROSKI: We had dragons that ate people.
BROSKI: And no offense but snow higher than you...not that big of a deal.

ME: You haven't seen me since Snowpocalypse. I never told you that one of the Abominable Snowmen chewed off my arm!
ME: I love you. I'm sorry it snowed.

BROSKI: I love you too. Dragon bit my head off. Doctors don't know how I survived.
BROSKI: Oh, I forgot. When you would be looking up for the dragons, scared...they would have leprechauns come kick you in the shins...

ME: The Abominable Snowmen can shoot lasers out of their eyes.

BROSKI: Pfff garbage can lid...reflect that shit right back at them.

ME: But the lids in Mt. Prospect are made of plastic!! The plastic melted when I tried to reflect the lasers back and shot in my eye! Now I'm blind.

BROSKI: Um. I have no head. boohoo blind.

ME: Shouldn't you be in class?

BROSKI: Shouldn't you be at work?

ME: Um. No. Not yet, thank you very much. Now pay attention!

BROSKI: To the leprechauns and dragons? Good idea.

ME: Just be safe out there, Headless-Broski. Love you.

Love Rant: Coffee Cups With Saucers

I have no reasonable explanation as to why this makes me so so happy...but it does. I'm slightly embarrassed to say that when my coffee comes on a saucer at a restaurant, I get a little giddy.
I don't know if it's the "tidiness" of the whole thing.
Or that if it's just elegant and classy.
(Really, what it probably is, is that, if a coffee cup on a saucer my brain is instantly like, "OMG! ROOM FOR A COOKIE!!")

Sometimes, I forget to be civilized.
Not that I'm a Barbarian, but I am always on the run and coffee, as much as I love it, is also my morning fuel. It's either thrown into a mug and guzzled in the morning a la Popeye downing a can of spinach or I run through a drive-though and get it in a disposable cup that's disposable because I didn't have time before I left the house to MAKE and SIT DOWN with an ACTUAL cup.
When presented with a coffee cup on a saucer, I'm reminded to slow down. I think, "Wow. This must be a damn good cup of coffee. I mean...its got its own chair and everything. I should sit in my own chair and enjoy it."
Coffee cups on saucers make me feel civilized. It's like permission to chill out for a sec, sit at a cafe with a book (and a cookie) and watch the world go by (with a cookie). I mean, think about it...if you're carrying a coffee cup on a saucer you have to walk slowly AND when you drink you can't just slam it back down on the table. You have to dantily return it to it's little place in the middle of the plate.
Also, as we've covered...saucer=built in cookie tray.

...this is as close as I am ever going to get (and have ever gotten) to having a tea party.
No thank you tea, just strong black coffee.
No thank you crumpets, just cookies.
No thank you proper posture and polite conversation, just a comfortable chair and an engaging discussion or a good book.
But yet yes yes please to my coffee on a saucer.

AND DON'T FORGET THE COOKIE.


...I suppose eating a cookie like cookie monster total defeats my whole argument that coffee cups on saucers make me slow down. Honestly though, it only slows me down when it comes to drinking and enjoying my coffee. Personally, I don't know any other way to eat cookies.





Also, when I image-searched "coffee saucers cookies" to find the above image I also found this...

I can't decide if it's a miracle or the worst thing ever because it pretty much make a saucer mostly moot.

Love Rant: Conversations With The Broski (Episode 1)

ME: So. What are you going to do with Dave when he comes in this weekend?
BROSKI: Drink.
ME: ...what ELSE are you going to do with Dave when he comes in?
BROSKI: Drink.
ME: You're not going to do anything fun? Why don't you rent bikes or something and go for a ride along the lake??
BROSKI: I'm going to pretend like you did not just say that. Seriously???
ME: Ugh. Please be careful whatever you do.
BROSKI: What? It's fine. We're just going to go to bars and hang and stuff. Plus, he always gets me hammered when I visit him so I need to return the favor.
ME: I fail to see how that is a favor.
BROSKI: Ok. Well...bye. I love you.
ME: I love you too. Be careful!

Love Rant: When I Don't Blog For Five Months And Then Try To Pretend Like Nothing Happened...

Yeah.
That.

More posts to come.
I'm trying very hard to be "back" again.