Friday, September 7, 2012

Some Happies...For Once

While I know the name of this blog is “The Angry Curl,” I had a wine-fueled epiphany the other night.  This “cabern-iphany” was brought about while sitting on my couch and looking around at my now-hated condo and thinking, “Just what the HELL do I have to do to get out of this place?”  Then I thought, “Maybe the fact that you hate it so much is the very thing holding you back.  Hic.”  I’ve blamed the housing market, I’ve blamed shitty neighbors, I’ve blamed the obviously faulty St. Joseph we buried in the front yard many, many moons ago.  But I’ve never stopped to blame myself for injecting those freshly-touched-up, yet cursed, walls with enough negativity to bring down Richard Simmons.  So, in an effort to somehow sell our abode of burden with the power of positivity (hopefully without puking before the end of this…I’ve already discussed my hatred for eternal optimism.  *Shudder.*) I’m foregoing my normal, “I hate everything because everything annoys me” and going with a “Crap that makes me happy blog.”  Here goes…

1.  I somehow got added to a “Juggalos and ‘Lettes of America” group on Facebook.  “Why on EARTH does this make you happy?” may be the thought crossing your mind right now, but I assure you, this is comedic GOLD.  Pictures of Juggalos are amazing and a quick listen to the melodies of this Insane Clown Posse prove to be enlightening (and by “enlightening” I mean, “I’m so glad their fan base is limited to some face-painting, Faygo-drinking family members and not the general population.”)  Far beyond the glories contained in lyrics such as “like magnets, how do those work?” I am really starting to realize the depth of this band and, more importantly, its followers.  With posts in the Facebook group citing such wisdom as “Whoop, whoop, mother*#&ers” and “Family!  Whoop, whoop!” these folks are obviously on to something.  They’re totally not racists, either, because the banner at the top of the page clearly states, “We’re not racists.  We’re Southern Juggalos.”  Props, Juggalos and Juggalettes.  Mad, hatchet-carrying props.  You brighten my day.  One awful post at a time. 

2.  While filming a movie a couple of weeks ago, I got a gigantic bruise on my left leg (I blame Brandy Cantrell and her dedication to the art of acting for this travesty.  I did bust her lip, however, so the afternoon wasn’t a total wash.)  Anyway, again, you may be pontificating to yourself as to why this would be a source of happiness in my life.  The reason it makes me giggle?  The bruise…well, the bruise looked like a, how do I put this?  A part of the male genitalia.  The picture is below and I’ll let you decide what YOU think it looks like, but just know that I’ve a lot of fun “flexing” my leg in the past couple of weeks and I’m almost sad that my lovely piece of leg porn is close to fully healed. 

3.  My parents’ chickens and their eggs.  I know, I know.  I write a LOT about farm life and the craziness it brings, but these eggs…oh, these eggs.  First off, the color (inside AND out.)  Opening a carton of these eggs is like experiencing Easter for the first time because they’re all different colors – brown, dark brown, blue, and GREEN!!  Then, upon cracking them open into a skillet, you discover that the yolks are this goldenrod yellow that screams, “Bedazzle me with onions, tomatoes, and spinach, woman!”  I, of course, am more than happy to oblige to the bossy eggs.  I often find myself screaming, “Hallelujah!” when I eat these eggs, because they taste like they fell straight out of heaven’s butt.  And who doesn’t want a ham and butt omelet on a Saturday morning?

4.  Running on Thursday mornings.  Why do I only like Thursdays?  Well, on the Thursdays I can drag myself out of bed and going running through the decidedly more affluent neighborhood down the street, I can rummage through their stuff because it’s TRASH DAY!  These folks throw out all kinds of goodies and since it’s the ass crack of dawn, I get first pick of that “sweet, sweet trash” a la some Always Sunny in Philadelphia action.  My favorite snag thus far has been a steam cleaner, which is still sitting in the closet, waiting to be tested, but it does turn on, so I’m fairly hopeful I’ll have clean carpets soon.  And even if I don’t actually go back and get the items by the curb, it gives me a sometimes startling insight into my neighbors’ lives.  This makes the running go by much quicker, as now I’m trying to decide if that one guy is just really into carpentry or if he’s building a sex dungeon in his basement (judging by his gardening skills, I’m going with dungeon.  Dungeon builders are excellent at growing hydrangeas.  Or so I’ve heard.)

5.  My final piece of happy today comes from one glorious word:  FOOTBALL.  It’s back.  While our cats are probably way less excited about being awoken from a day-long nap with yells of, “TOUCHDOWN!!!” from us, I could care less.  They can go back to sleep, but football’s like the McRib – it will induce long periods of sitting on the couch and it’s only here for a limited time.  

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