The Stories I Promised You

So, as you know, not many people use phone books anymore. Lots of the people I deliver to try to give them back to me. They don't understand the beautiful service I am doing for society. I tell them I can't take the phone books back, sorry (this is THIRTY CENTS, people). They tend to shrug it off and maybe even go online to add their names to the Do Not Deliver List. No big deal.

 [yummy]

One man was different. I was walking from house to house, again, setting phone books on door steps. As I headed back toward the van, this man opened his front door and shrieked,
"I DON'T THROW TRASH ON YOUR DOORSTEP, WHY WOULD YOU THROW IT ON MINE!?!"
 As if I were a neighborhood punk playing a joke with a bag of dog poo. Still, he kinda freaked me out and I noticed he had even taken the trouble of tearing the plastic bag and bringing it (or perhaps hurling it?) all the way to the end of his driveway.

I nervously delivered a book to his next door neighbor, hoping the crazy man was not close with this particular family. Right before leaving I debated whether or not I should pick up the discarded "trash" about 10 feet away from my van. Crazy man opened the door to voice his opinion on the matter,
"PICK IT UP!!!!!!!!!!" 
Not wanting to be, you know, killed or something, I picked it up and drove away. Unfortunately I never got the chance to tell this fellow he could go online and put himself on the Do Not Deliver List.

-------

Do not fear, I am safe from the crazy man and the next story is far more lighthearted!
Now some of the houses on my latest route are in the country. Sounds pleasant for the owners but it is irritating for the lowly phone book delivery girl (me).

One house, at the end of a long dirt road had this standing outside:

[brownish four-legged something...]

As the grainy, cell phone picture reveals, there was SOMETHING in the yard and I didn't know what it was! The thing was large and brown. Maybe it was a deer, but maybe it was a large dog. I nervously recalled the other farm where six unleashed dogs had ran up to me, barking like crazy (that home did not receive their cherished phone book). I slowly inched the van forward, but the beast did not move. Obviously it had nerves of steel. 

Wait! Maybe it did move!

I was on the brink of turning back from the massive dog/wolf/deer/shark when a label on the truck in the driveway stopped me. 

Something-Something Taxidermy Co.

Yes, my friends, it was a stuffed deer. The story ended happily. I strolled past the preserved deer carcass, laughing to myself and delivered a bundle of joy to the taxidermists.

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Story number three: MOO COWS!

[and a swamp!]

No Summer Omelettes

So, remember how I had that mind-numbing factory job every summer? (Cough, cough... I folded omelettes). Thought I'd be going back to it soon this summer, right? Me too.

But they didn't take me back! So now, in desperation, I am looking for a job--ANY JOB--willing to hire a college student for the summer. Let me tell you, this is not a piece of cake, nor is it pie.

[oh, the bitter agony of the classifieds]

For the time being, I am involved in some racket delivering phone books. I get 30 cents per house delivered to. No compensation for gas or putting them all into bags with advertisements though.

Yay.

[a lovely car full of things people don't use anymore]

So I guess my stories will come from a different occupation this summer. Or... for the next few weeks anyway.

No Virtual High-Fives for You

Tsk, tsk, everyone. The only person who recognized my painting was Brian. He did have an extremely unfair advantage though. He was probably one of the only people who knew which work I submitted!

So here, I will simply give you the answer. It's like a weekly crossword or something, some people just need a hint.

[in retrospect, I should have circled that with a brighter color]

Yay, now you can all see it! I think the show is over now. I have to go retrieve my work in a week or two. Of course, any time I go near the MIA now there are hoards of paparazzi people up in my grill, but I'll just answer their questions about my masterpiece and be on my way.

Hehehe.

Flavored Water Will Kill Us All

Let me tell you the reason Marina woke up to discover this in the bathroom sink yesterday.

[sharp and... bloody?]

No, it was just flavored water, don't freak out. Hey, I said STOP IT, okay?

See, this happened because of my brilliant idea to not waste my reddish raspberry flavored water so I should bring it upstairs to bed just in case there was a case of midnight thirst. Told you it was brilliant. Went to bed, not thirsty yet. Fell asleep.... still not thirsty. 

Woke up at 6 a.m. I wasn't thirsty but the bloody scars from my newly removed wisdom teeth were in pain! I was practically forced to roll out of bed to fetch some ibuprofen and my lovely wrap-around-head ice pack. 

[it gives one a sort of angelic flush, no?]

I sort of fell asleep on the couch and was surprised by Kevin getting up to go to school. Oh, high school, I forget you drag on so long! I fell back asleep until I heard my alarm going off, the one I set so I wouldn't oversleep (THIS IS CALLED IRONY, NOT SURE IF YOU KNOW WHAT THAT IS ;] ). 

Yargh! said I. Racing upstairs, I turned it off and jumped into bed to sleep longer...

knocking over that damn flavored water.

So the rest of my morning went like this:

[this girl loves to scrub!]

After some cleaning and complaining, I realized this was blog-worthy, so just add some extra stains to this with the eye of your mind (alias "imagination"). 

[an OxyClean salesman's dream]

Have no imagination? Do not worry, my blog includes people with disabilities! 

[exactly what it looked like. only drier.]

So yes, I was left with a fun little story and a nice cut from a shard of broken glass I overlooked.

[finally, some real blood]

Now, were this some sort of artsy movie like Pulp Fiction or what have you, I might bring it full circle by revisiting the opening scene. 

[ " ]

However, this is a mere blog. So goodbye!

Minneapolis Institute of Arts Foot-in-the-Door

The Foot-in-the-Door is something the MIA does every ten years. They have an exhibit where they let ANYONE in. Well, anyone who makes something less than 1'x1'x1' (get the pun now?). So of course I put something in! Unfortunately so did a billion other people, so mine may not get the attention it DESERVES.

Haha. I went to see my baby (I don't really call paintings that so can it) and there it was! Actually I walked through many rooms and had to then stop at a computer and look at which section mine was hanging... There were that many. I quickly took a single picture because we aren't actually allowed. See if you can guess which one is mine! I'll give you a virtual high five if you can.

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