On a mission from God since 1992

Catholic guilt. Parental guilt. Wonder twin powers activate! Form of me going church for 3 weeks in a row... and it's not even Christmas. Or Easter.

I went home again this weekend for several reasons. One, I was off... again. It was amazing. Two, my parents have better cable and a warmer house... stocked with food. Three, I had to go home to see that special someone... who is covered in fur. My parents go to church every week. I wouldn't necessarily say they're devout, more like riddled with Catholic guilt and fear of the nuns. And thanks to this same Catholic guilt and fear of nuns with parental guilt as a cherry on top, I end up going to church every Saturday night I'm home. It's not that I'm not religious, I honestly don't know what I am. When it comes to religion, I just assume that Lost got it right and go with that. It's just I have a fear of being struck by lightning every time I step on hallowed ground... or turned to stone. I saw Hocus Pocus, I know it could happen.

I wouldn't say I'm a bad person, per se.... I just say bad things sometimes... that might offend people. A lot of people. But, I mean, the Justice League of the Hereafter has to have a sense of humor, right? Look at my life- if it's not pure knee-slapping good time for some omniscient being, I don't know what is. And my second point... the platypus. Anyway, the inside of a church while mass is going on is not the best place for me, especially since they changed the words to the same old mass that I've been going to since they dunked me in a bucket of water and called me a Catholic. I don't deal with change well, I still say a lot of the old words. Then realize I say the old words. Then say a word that would have gotten my wrist taken clean off had a nun heard me say it in grade school. Hopefully I at least get points for trying?

Then there's the snack time near the end of mass. I actually like the communion wafer. I think they would be able to market them as a healthy and holy breakfast food. Seriously. Instead of people seeing the image of Jesus in a piece of toast, Jesus would BE the toast. However, sometimes they let the wafers sit out for awhile and they go a bit stale... and then it's somewhat difficult to hide my distaste for them. I would say it's still a step up from when I was a kid and truly believed that it WAS the body of Christ... as in cannibalism on the holiest of scales. It makes sense considering I wasn't the best student in religion class. I couldn't remember the authors of the Gospels, but for some reason "John, Paul, George, and Ringo" stuck out in my mind. I got the answer wrong. And I got to see the nun after class. The same nun who caught me outside of class when I wasn't supposed to be and I told her I was, "On a mission from God." The Blues Brothers was my favorite movie... in kindergarten.

Well, hopefully this didn't offend anyone too much. The ever-powerful "they" say never to talk about religion or politics. I guess I didn't mention politics.... so here you are!

(Oh, most of the political stuff is actually posted by the morons on the comments section.)

Slush Road Cavy

Since I have been on the super secret team at the hell hole recently, I haven't had much to say other than complaining about all the hush-hush projects I've had to endure...but can't speak openly about. I'm like a retail James Bond with ninja skills... except not as cool. Not nearly as cool. Alas, that's about all I'm allowed to say... you never know, there are secret agents from Kohls everywhere. The saddest part is, it's all true. We were bound to secrecy in fear our competitors might overhear and steal this ridiculous new strategy. When customers ask me what's going on, I reply, "We're trying a new strategy we learned from Montgomery Wards and Lazarus." Some of them will accept this answer, but others will look perplexed and reply, "But those stores are closed." To which, I just nod and give and emphatic, "Exactly." However, I will still roam around the store humming "Secret Agent Man"... or the theme from the Pink Panther.

Since my job is now under-wraps, I shall divulge all the juicy details of my weekend... that's

right, weekend. I had a real one this time. Like most normal people, I got off of work at 5:00pm on Friday and didn't have to be back till 9:00am Monday. It was a glorious sensation. I felt alive. I felt renewed. I finally knew what Loverboy was talking about... I could just hear that cowbell. Since everyone was watching to see what I would do, I felt the pressure to get it right... get it right. I wanted to go somewhere and do something spontaneous, but a midnight train going anywhere just seemed dangerous. So I hopped in my I-wish-I-could-still-call-him-trusty Cavy and headed for Latrobe where at least I would be fed...aaaand cue the snow. Most people would turn back, but, oh no, I had a grumble in my tummy and a nice warm house on my mind. A major section of the commute was not bad... until we got to the dark lands where the Penn Dot workers really take out some anger issues on unsuspecting drivers. I'm pretty sure they added snow to the road. Either that or I took a wrong turn and ended up on Ice Road Truckers. Hey, maybe I could have my own show- Slush Road Cavy.

Eventually my earning-back-my-trust Cavy and I did make it home and were handsomely rewarded with a warm house (and a garage), food, and gifts aplenty.... even though the gifts aplenty are going to put me on Hoarders one day. My mom finds deals. She likes coupons. She likes clearance items. Even if these items are already stockpiled in the house or we don't actually need. Case in point- my mom handed me two bags of pinecones. Yes, pinecones. Apparently they were on sale. I don't know if she got swindled by a squirrel, but last time I checked, pinecones were free as long as you found the right tree. So now I have two bags of pinecones sitting on my living room couch. Oh well, I guess I'll keep them. Maybe they can decorate the library in my Scottish castle.

True Life: I'm a Disney Princess

Once upon a time, in a far away land of the black and gold, there lived a young lass who dreamed of a world outside of this kingdom made of steel. A world where she no longer had to fold clothes or scrounge for change to buy a few measly pieces of bread and a large sweet tea with way too much ice in it. A world where she could create art and be content. Then, one day, she heard the opening notes of Aha's "Take on Me" and was magically transported into an animated world with talking animals, dragons, and magic. This land was ruled by an evil Raven queen and her equally evil dragon flyer, Phil. Our young heroine swiftly defeated this dastardly duo with the help of a magical pierogie. Her heroics and sassy wit entranced the young prince, whom she saved from his imprisonment by the evil queen in a field of jaggerbushes. This handsome Scottish prince lead her to a castle, where he already had an enormous library filled with every book imaginable (no nooks or kindles here) and a theater where they could watch moving pictures together and even a studio where she could make her own movies for the entire land to enjoy. And they lived happily ever after.

...or at least that's how I thought my life was going to be like when I was finally that magical "Disney princess age" (between 16 and 20). I was convinced as a child that I was, in fact, a cartoon character. It all started when I was about 4 and I thought I was Cinderella. Completely, 100% convinced I was Cinderella. It didn't help that my mother sat a bucket of water in front of me and I was content cleaning the floors as long as the water was bubbly enough, I had a kerchief in my hair and a song in my heart, which, of course, I would sing aloud. So I became that kid who would walk around singing and talking to birds and mice, waiting for my fairy godmother or my Halloween pumpkin to turn into a coach.

Of course, a few years later, I realized how silly this was. I wasn't Cinderella. I was Ariel. During my swimming lessons, I could stay afloat and propel my body in a forward motion... I just didn't want to kick my legs. I had a fin, you know, I had to move them together. I failed swimming lessons miserably. However, I like to think that if I ever actually need to be able to swim to survive, the sea creatures will save me thanks to my bond with them due to my time as a mermaid.

Then I grew up a little more and realized that Ariel was a little too flighty for me. And really? Giving up everything, including her voice and family for a man she doesn't even know? Who

does that? No, I needed to be a little more level headed. Still independent, intelligent, but with strong family ties. That's when I met Belle and I was convinced she was my animated doppleganger. I learned how to read and walk at the same time thanks to the library that was located inside the local supermarket... it made grocery shopping with my mother bearable. I already loved to read, but I really threw myself into it. I'm pretty sure that I was the only child who actually got yelled at for reading too much. But some of my best friends were in these books. And I could travel to so many places before I was even able to drive. I'm not sure if I ever got out of my "Belle" phase. It might even be the premise for my "Hoarders" episode. I can see it now, the cameras enter the house to stacks and stacks of books. A small voice is heard from behind one of the piles, "No! You can't take these! They're for my Beauty and the Beast Scottish Castle...What do you mean this candlestick isn't talking?"

Time flies when the Tardis is your Christmas Tree

Haul out the holly, put up the tree before my spirit falls again. Fill up the stockings, I may be rushing things, but deck the halls again now. For we need a little Chris.... wait, it's over? It's been almost a month since Christmas? I guess my wish to hibernate till January was almost granted... minus the part where I was awake to see the sun rise almost every day about 2 weeks before Christmas trying to paint a nativity set for my mother. I think she appreciated it though- I believe the term she used was "bullshit" when I told her I made it for her. Happy birthday, baby Jesus!

For once, I did have a nice, rather uneventful holiday. The only downside was, I couldn't blink or turn away from my Christmas tree (this year's theme: "The Angels have the Christmas tree). I was even good at Christmas Eve mass... still demoted to the children's mass, but completely silent save for falling asleep BEFORE mass started and a few comments about the Pope finding a thesaurus...and maybe a little something about the paperclip from Microsoft Word being a new prophet by "suggesting" new words. Thanks, Catholic church for teaching me new words... and making me look like a fool when I proudly recited the prayers I memorized in grade school... then realized the words were wrong. At least the nuns weren't there to slap my wrist.

Then New Years rolled around and because enjoying Christmas was too good to be true, I got sick during the Christmas present to myself:

Yup, I was right there on the ice... just about 2 levels above it toting my camera with a pretty damn good zoooooom. However, I did realize during my holiday hibernation that I might be Anne Franking it a bit too much in my attic room. So my New Years resolution was to get out more... but judging by the small nest that I made in front of my computer and the fact I'm already halfway through season 3 of Supernatural, which I just started watching about a week ago, I've already failed miserably. So my new resolution is to become an extreme couponer. This is probably for the better since come December 21st all that will be left are hoarders, extreme couponers, and crazy people. Two out of the three already describe me... so why not make it all three? And if the world doesn't end, maybe I could get a show on TLC.

Have Yourself a Very Ugly Christmas- Part 2: Attack of the Christmas Music

Now this is a story all about how my life got flipped, turned upside down. And I'd like to take a minute just sit right there and I'll tell you how I became the princess of why the hell are we open till midnight?

Holiday hours are in full swing and I've had far too much time to be alone with the holiday tunes. Yes, alone as in not a customer in sight and tumbleweeds made of fallen sequins and dust bunnies because who in their right mind would be interested in shopping at the hellhole after 10 pm... it's scary enough in the daytime. Since there are no crickets to emphasize how alone the associates actually are after dark, the cheery holiday music seems to amplify and I've had far too much time to think about their true meaning. The dark truth is they're not so cheery after all. A customer told me that "Baby, It's Cold Outside" (which the store plays at least 20 times a day) is her favorite Christmas song. First, nowhere in this tune does it state that it is Christmas, it is simply "cold outside." The song could be set in the Twilight Zone where the earth is moving out of its orbit and away from the sun for all the listener knows. Second, is it me or is there the implication of date rape in this merry winter melody? Nothing spells Christmas like roofinol in your eggnog.

I'd have to say one of my favorite Christmas songs is the one where the kids build a human effigy out of snow and it comes to life with the help of a magical top hat. Then they begin to wreak havoc and terrify the town. Sign me up to work on that horror movie. Oh it's a children's cartoon? You're shitting me. Does no one else see the terror in this except for the creators of Jack Frost (the horror movie)? Bottom line is snow should not be sentient unless it is channeling Michael Keaton.

Don't be a drag, just be a Dairy Queen

I found out recently that my mom doesn't like my kind. It's not fair to discriminate, Lady Gaga would say we're born this way. People who just can't control their urges and they just keep going, wanting more and more. And if we can't have it, we just start twitching like we're tweaking out, in need of a good fix. Apparently there's a lady that she works with who is like me. But her drug of choice is Reeses. While those are good, I've never delved into how many pounds of the chocolate peanut buttery goodness I can eat in one sitting. However, I'm good for about a pound and a half of Twizzlers... and only a few of those were made into straws.

Abs of steel? Please, I'd rather have a stomach of steel, able to finish Ritas Italian ice or a delicious milkshake in mere seconds. Capable of handling 8+ bowls of Olive Garden soup (my friends made me leave). I see the words "all you can eat" and I readily accept the challenge. Endless soup, salad and breadsticks? Bring it on! And I will not give in to your smaller bowls of soup or one breadstick per person after the first round trickery. You might as well cut your losses and fill up my bowl the entire way up with delicious soup and bring me an entire pan of breadsticks. Apparently my passion for eating is starting to show.

Recently I was helping a customer out in the athletic wear department. She asked me where the "microfiber" pants were. I've heard of "microfiber" before, but never really knew what it was because after a few horrifying incidents with spandex and a Richard Simmons video, anything remotely related to "working out" terrifies me. So I asked if the customer could explain "microfiber" to me because I'm not familiar with the athletic department. Her response? "Well, obviously." Although, a friend did point out she could have just been implying that I'm an idiot, not calling me rotund. However, I'd rather be called fat because at least I earned that title fair and square... well, fair and round?

My Own Personal American Horror Story

T'is the season to make millions of Christmas cookies in order to supplement my income and to buy my loved ones Christmas gifts that don't consist of a piece of paper stating, "IOU One gold bar when I become rich and famous" or whatever I can find laying around my room to regift. Yes, sir, I am pretty much an escapee of the Martha Stewart cooking school. So I have spent the past two days at my loving parents' house or as I like to call it, my own personal American Horror Story.

Give me the murder house any day. I ain't afraid of no ghost. The Leonard household with mere weeks to go before Christmas, however, is a different story. My next visit, I am planning to bring some Midol in hopes to control my father's mood swings and getting angry at the most trivial things. And I should probably just figure out where to get some horse tranquilizers for my mom. Unfortunately, I'd lose my baking buddy that way, but I wouldn't have to hear the same overly caffeinated story from the lady zip zooming around the kitchen leaving a trail of flour along the way. A trivial thing my father gets angry over? Trails of flour in the kitchen... which he doesn't really even use. I know it doesn't sound too horrifying yet, but did I mention my mother is once again addicted to the made for menopause TV movies on the Hallmark channel? And Sidney Crosby is out indefinitely. Again. I had to hear about that... from both the cougar and the angry one. On the plus side, I did find a rocking horse cookie cutter. Coming this Christmas to the Leonard household- the four rocking horses of the apocalypse! Perfect for ringing in 2012

I did get to go pick out the family Christmas tree though... It was a lot like that scene from Christmas Vacation, but take out the fun. And add this...

Holy backseat driver, Batman!

My mother keeps it in her backseat. I guess she wants Jesus, Mary and Joseph to take the wheel? I didn't want to get too close in fear of being struck by lightning and my eyes being burned out of my head, I saw that X-Files episode. However, the thing is truly horrifying. There's a Jesus one too, which was even creepier, but I made her leave it on the lawn so I could sit without genuflecting first.

After about an hour at the tree lot, we finally found the perfect one... or at least one that will do since it was dark by the time we left. And the ground was nicely aerated thanks to my boots. That's right, I was wearing heeled boots in mud to pick out a Christmas tree. I'm on my way to becoming a real girl!