That Time I Watched Casper and it Got Weird

Some friends and I are planning a "childhood faves" movie marathon. So far on the docket we have, A Goofy Movie, Jumanji, and Wild America. While I love these movies, I am both excited and a little nervous.

Why would kids movies make me nervous? Good question. You see a few years ago I was at my grandparents house and noticed they had a VHS copy of Casper. Of course I decided to watch it.

Casper was definitely in my top ten favorite movies growing up. There are many reasons why including ; how awesome that house was, that scene where the uncles are eating but the food just falls through them, but more than anything, how hot alive Casper was at the end of the movie.

I mean seriously as a child I would wish on every shooting star that a ghost as friendly and cute as Casper would be my BFF. (Never happened). Seriously he says "Can I keep you?" Ten year old me swooned. 

I literally watched our copy of the tape until it wore out.  So the last time I had watched the movie , I was probably 11. 

Now let's fast forward to 20 year old me watching it at my grandparents house.

First of all, the movie was wayyyyyyy more depressing than I recalled. Child Heather didn't really pontificate on the fact that he was the ghost of a kid. Heavy stuff. But the most shockingly different part of the movie was Casper aka Devon Sawa shows up at the Halloween party. 

I was super excited. This was always my favorite part of the movie! Time for hot hot Casper! 

What I didn't think about was that he was hot hot Casper when I was 10. And although I had aged appropriately, the actors on the PREVIOUSLY RECORDED FILM had not changed. 

So there I was 20 years old looking at 12 year old Devon feeling let down, shocked and confused. It was a childhood memory killer. (I looked it up, I know that Sawa was actually 17, but his character was 12 and seriously he did not look 17!) 

Ever since then I have been apprehensive about watching my other childhood faves. Am I know too old for Benny "the Jet" Rodriguez? Rufio? Mimi-Siku?  Would all of those fond memories be ruined too? 

Probably shouldn't chance it. 

How I Accidentally May Have Convinced the Target Cashier I am Pregnant

As always my life seems like I am the star of my own telenovela, at least from the inside. I was standing in my regular check out at Target the other day (the Target I work in) buying a maternity tank top when I realized that over the last few months my purchases look a little suspicious when strung together. Let's back it up.

Working in a Target seems to have one advantage for all of my friends; because I am already at the store I can buy all of the things they are too embarrassed to purchase for themselves. I am like the middle man of embarrassing products. If anyone who knows me even a little is too self-conscious to purchase something, some how I ended up in line.

Here is the last few months.

Purchase One: For myself
Lubricant. It was just KY nothing fancy. I don't care who knows what I purchase or if I get it from the place I work,

Purchase Two:NOT FOR ME
Plan B. I had a friend who was in desperate need to skip a period and heard that Plan B would delay you for a bit. Said friend was too nervous to walk to the pharmacy and ask for one. Enter Heather. (BTW they are totally just on the shelf now  and you don't even have to ask the pharmacy staff the way I did, only to have them walk you over to the condom aisle).

Purchase Three: For myself

Pepto Bismol pills. Okay lets face it they were Up&Up Pink Tummy Pills because I am too cheap for name brand. If you have ever met me you know I have a questionable stomach at the best of times.

Purchase Four (A week or so after the Pink Tummy Pills): NOT FOR ME

A pregnancy test. My friend was not being the safest and was feeling a little funky so they needed to check it out! (Ps... the 20 packs of tests are for people trying to conceive, not whores. That took me longer than it should to figure out)

LACK OF PURCHASE: For myself.

Tampons. I bought that shit at Costco. I am set for life.

Purchase Five: NOT FOR ME

Maternity tank top. My co-worker just needed a longer tank top for her outfit, but I was on break so I went and grabbed a maternity one on the advice of our doctor because they are stretchy as hell.

Add that all up and you get one misleading story... My life. 

I am Concerned I Might be a Basic Bitch

The other day my friend posted a video to my Facebook. It was a College Humor video on, "How to Tell if you are a Basic Bitch." While it was super funny, it was a little concerning. 

They made fun of the girl's astrological tattoo (WHICH I HAVE), and that she loved scented candles (WHICH I DO) and that she owned Ugg boots (I DID YEARS AGO). HOLY SHIT AM I BASIC????

If you had asked me a week ago, I would have said I was a bad bitch I would have said "Fuck yeah bro"... But now I am not so sure.... Maybe being a bad bitch is just a basic delusion of mine. 

I have been trying to google what exactly a basic bitch is, however I can't figure out how turn off my Google safe search. The signs are not looking good. I will keep you updated on my soul searching journey. 

Competitive is Just a Nice Way of Saying Stubborn

Some people (myself included) would say I am competitive, maybe even ultra competive. I flipped a Monoply board almost 15 years ago and my family still has a board game ban on me. 

But it is not just board games that I like to win. It is everything. I like to have the last word, ride shot gun, get to class first. If I am going up the stairs and I hear someone one else come in, if I can make it to my apartment without seeing them, I win. Really my day consists of a serries of small competitions that only I am aware of (and totally dominate).

Well this pigheadedness of mine led to one of the most uncomfortable nights of my life. 

It all started fine and dandy. In fact, it was better than average because I was going to a concert with two of my good friends. It all went down hill when we decided to go to dinner before the concert. 

My friend's coworker had reccomended a new Indian place so we decided to go there. We walked the few blocks and entered a completely empty restaurant save three employees leaning over the counter. 

"Do you have a reservation?" asked the bartender. 

"No. Do we need one?" replied my friend as we all looked around at the empty tables and booths.

The bartender did not reply, but the waitress led us to a booth in the back right next to the kitchen.  She dropped some menus and walked away. 

She came back a few minutes and asked, "Bubbly water?"

Both of my friends declined, but being a lover of anything carbonated I politely accepted. I assumed that I would be getting sparking water from the fountain at the bar, however that was not the case. 

She returned with two glasses of still water and the biggest fucking bottle of Perrier that I have ever seen. 

I knew right then that this waitress bamboozled me into buying that bottle. Now I am not a person who likes to be tricked into buying giant bottles of bubbly water at an unknown price. I don't think I have ever once said c'est la vie  or hakuna matata and just laughed something off. No no, it was on. 

Throughout the meal my friends dined on wonderful curry while lightly sipping their free glasses or water while I slammed glass after glass of bubbly. By the time the check came I felt a little sick but about half of the bottle was empty.  The waitress dropped it of and walked away with a smirk.

I glanced down at the bill. $9.00 for water?!?! Are you fucking kidding me. I was tired of drinking it, but there was no way I was letting the waitress win on this one.  So I did what anyone would do and picked up the bottle and started chugging it.

 My friends stared at me with weird looks so I quickly gave up the chugging and went back to the glass by glass approach. Four full glasses later I had won. It didn't matter that I felt sick or that I left sloshing down the street after eating my weight in curry and carbonation. It didn't matter that I had to pee every two minutes during the show. It only mattered that I made that water my bitch. 

I am in a Relationship with Ikea and it's Complicated.

I am lucky enough to live in a city with an Ikea. Or maybe I should say, I unfortunately live in a city with an Ikea. Ikea might be my only vice (Unless you count Deet, my favorite carcinogen ) I am not sure if it is the $4.99 Swedish Meatballs or the new colors that the Lack table comes in, but I am drawn to Ikea like the moth to the flame.

I own two of the above. 

About every two months I decide that I have to go to Ikea for one really small thing and I will be in and out in ten minutes flat.  (That is pretty much the biggest lie ever.) Most recently (which is the same as every time) I had to run in and get some spice containers because all of my Indian spices some how soaked in to my graham crackers and now I have curry flavored s'mores. 

So anyway, I venture into Ikea. I am just going to go straight down to the kitchenwares section, grab my two packs of RAJTAN spice jars, but I smell the food. So I go up to the cafe and find myself with $15 worth of mediocre food that I some how can't stop myself from buying or eating. 

Seriously the perfect spice jar.

So after I go through all of the lines I end up with a plate of chicken tenders that may or may not be 100% meat, macaroni and cheese that I know is terrible but always looks delicious in the tub, and some cold garlic bread. I  already had to smash down my compulsion to buy a princess cake (that I know is super cute, but tastes of cardboard), Swedish meat balls, little cartons of DRYCK LINGON, and about nine bars of chocolate. So far I am doing pretty good.

As I sit at my little table and try to enjoy the feast of plenty I have just purchased, I start to look at my surroundings. Of course all of the walls are covered in stretched fabric that looks awesome. I start thinking that I could do this. Wouldn't my living room look wonderful with that stretched right about my couch? And the flower shaped soft lights be the perfect finishing touch. I feel confident that it will bring a whole new level of sophistication to my apartment. Experience tells me however, that I will buy all of the supplies and then they will sit in their packaging in the back of my closet until I move at which time they will be binned.

From there I make my way through the entire show room. I didn't mean to go through it, but I cannot stop myself. I HAVE to see what my apartment could look like if I had unlimited Ikea funds and was not a terminal clutter-er. I write down and take photos of approximately  every item. Then I hit the basement. This is where the real danger awaits.

It starts off with a display of bamboo. I want them. I want them all. I could put them in every room in different cute little vases which I can find in the home decorating section. It does not matter in the five years that I have been shopping at Ikea I have already committed a genocide against these very bamboo. I buy them and murder them one after the other.  I have to stop myself from putting three in the cart.

They're so cute... when they're not dead.

I some how manage to make it to the housewares/kitchen section. This is what I call the danger zone. I came for a few jars but by now my cart has about 15 items in. I have a a new complete set of dishes, a spatula  and I am contemplating a live house plant. This madness has to stop. I have to leave right that instant and I am not allowed to go in to the damages section or the Swedish food mart. 

I spend $80.

I leave feeling shame with a promise to never come back.

I make it about two months.

Repeat. 

Do Deer Attack and Other Outdoor Questions

As the summer winds down, I find myself a little relieved that I will no longer have to pretend to enjoy the outdoors. I think I have always known I was more of a video game player than a hike in the woods girl, but since our move to the boonies, I have tried to expand my boundaries. It has not gone well.

For a brief stint this summer I tried running (I am using the term very loosely) in the trails near our apartment. For awhile things were going well. I didn't have to listen to the awkward grunts of the guys trying to out do each other in the small apartment gym (ps your benching 60 lbs and sounding like you're giving birth, is something that no girl finds attractive) and I could pretend I was Snow White, or the girl in Evil Dead, depending on my mood.

So anyway, all fine and dandy till this deer has to come and fuck up my happy.  

Now I know there are plenty of deer near my house, but the only time I had seen one, it ran like a bat out of hell as soon as I got about one hundred yards from it. That is normal deer behavior right?

Well not this day. As I approached the entrance to the trails, I was not really paying attention to my surroundings. No I was listening to the Pussy Cat Dolls and pretending I have some sort of rhythm. Suddenly I look up and there is a MOTHER FUCKING DEER like two feet in front of me.  I could have spit on it, we'll if I didn't suck at spitting.

                     Not the actual deer

I came to a dead stop and my heart started beating rapidly and my fight or flight should have kicked in, but I just stood there in this deer's headlights (eyes). Of course I forgot everything I knew about deer. All I could think of is the damn moose attacking people in Alaska. 

So I started to hyperventilate as I tried to remember if deer attack. I was not sure, so I made a loud noise hoping that it will run away and I could continue on my merry way. It did not.

So I started to cry. I didn't bring my phone and this deer is going to kill me and no one will know and some jogger is going to find my body and I am going to end up on a weird episode of CSI- Death by Deer and no one even watches CSI anymore because Grissom left like ten years ago but maybe Lifetime will make a movie of it and a cute B movie actress will  play me but that doesn't matter because the deer will have killed me and I won't even get to see it and I hate deer all they do is spread Lyme disease and panic.  

So finally after silently sobbing and panicking, I just backed away from the murderous  deer and ran home defeated.

  I have since not returned to the trails. I have asked every one if deer attack and they all say no, but I am not convinced. I could see the hate in its creepy deer eyes.

So after my harrowing experience with the deer you think I would have learned my lesson about nature, but no. 

While walking to the bus this summer I decided to take the scenic rout near the trees instead of the busy road. It was a mistake.

See it looks like a nice place to walk. Lies.

( I also should include that I have been watching a television show called Naked and Afraid. It is about two people who get placed in remote parts of the world naked to see if they can survive. All kinds of terrible things happen to them such as poison snake bites and trench foot. Makes for great TV. But I think it made me have attacks on the brain)

I decide to take this rout even though a spider attacked me from one of the trees earlier this summer.

Well as I was heading to my bus, minding my own business and jamming to Livin La Vida Loca, I notice a snake on the ground. I panic and try to stop, but my momentum keeps me going so I end up flat on my face right next to the snake.

I scream, and then jump away. As I take note of my situation, I notice that what I thought was a snake, is actually just a stick.

Okay, but this is the snakiest looking stick you have ever seen right?

Well as I try to recover from my embarrassing scene I look at the stick some more. Even knowing it is a stick and definitely not a snake, all I can think about are those people in Naked and Afraid and all of their snakes. I realize I have to be on my guard and more prepared for snake/stick attacks. I need to channel my inner Naked and Afraid and become like a jungle surviving goddess.

With that in mind I boldly walk the rest of the way to the bus alert for any more attacks. I was now ready to face the wilderness. 

The next day I was frightened by the snake snake/stick. I now just take the busy road. 

Guess I am never going to be a nature girl.

Ps. But really do deer attack?  

Take What You Are Handed

So this week we had a little "goodie" bag of stuff that we had to hand out for work. (I put goodie in quotes, because as someone pointed out to me, if it doesn't have candy can you really call it a goodie bag?) I thought that this would be easy and maybe even a little fun. Well giving them to customers was taking to long so we decided to walk the store around and hand them out to random people.

I thought this would go quickly and smoothly because the bags had a good size sample of sunblock. Now I am talking nice sun block, the fancy name brand kind that doesn't even smell like sunblock. Who wouldn't want that? Well the answer is pretty much everyone.

This very sample.

I was falbbergasted for two reasons. One, who doesn't want a free sample? I mean it is free and you get something? In this case something useful!, after all it is summer and UV safety month. I seriously go out of my way for free samples. I take them from stores, sign up for them online, and buy products that come with extra mini items. I even try things I know that I won't like and take things I won't use, and end up giving a ton of tiny samples to the thrift shop like once a year. It may appear to be a waste, but what if I find something life changing in a sample that I never would have bought otherwise??? Anyway, these people kept turing me down even with the incentive of my nice sunblock sample.

The second reason why I was shocked was that I was actively trying to get people take these stupid bags. I was making eye contact and smiling and and talking up a storm, but still I was shut down. Again I am not sure why people were putting up with all of my talking and listening to my whole speech before saying no. Why not just take my little bag and keep on your way? When someone hands me something, I just accept it and keep walking. Why listen when you can just grab and go? You can always toss it later.

I think by the end of four years at the U, I had about 17 little green New Testaments, 9,000 Amnestiy International flyers, and more band promos then I could count. (Vegas was even worse with the "hot nude girls" flyers. I think I had an entire rain forest of them by the end of my trip)



But these folks I was attempting to give to are not like me at all. . Either I take more crap than most people or those hander-outers at the U are true professionals and I have a thing or two to learn.