Meeting Grizzly Adams

I met Grizzly Adams today.

At church.

On Palm Sunday.

He smelled.

Being the only female under the age of 70 without a small child attached to her ankle, he naturally made a beeline for me. I don’t think he realized I was almost 10 years older than he was, but then again, who could possibly tell that based on my flawless complexion and hot body? (Okay, that last part was totally for my benefit. The rest of you can disregard that. I’m working on developing a healthy self image, so occasionally I give myself pep talks to make up for the fact that my husband left me for a much less attractive mother of three. See? I told you that pep talk was necessary. ANYhoodles…)

Grizzly lives in the woods without electricity. I’m guessing there’s a lack of running water where he lives too. And maybe a mirror. There’s definitely not a beard trimmer nearby, so there’s probably a lack of scissors too. I don’t think he has a brush… or a comb. And soap might be a scarcity. Actually, I’m just going to go out on a limb and guess that Grizzly lives in a tent. With a backpack. In which he carries all of his belongings. Which are very few.

Most people would have guessed Grizzly was homeless. This is not the case. Actually… it probably is, but you see, when you live where I live, people consciously choose to live in tents without electricity and running water in order to become one with nature. Grizzly is probably just one of many, MANY Grizzlies (the people, not the bears) who live in the forest around town. It’s what people do here. Is it totally weird? Yes, yes it is. Is it pretty commonplace? Yes, yes it is.

Anyway, so Grizzly was pretty much homeless. By choice. He told me he spent his days practicing Tai Chi for 2 or 3 hours, and the rest of the time enjoying nature. He talked a lot about hunting, but based on the platefuls of food he was devouring, I couldn’t tell if he killed and ate his critter-like friends or just “communed” with them. He ate dried jalepeno peppers on a daily basis, mainly for the purpose of inflicting pain on himself. He found that the more pain he endured, the more connected to nature he felt… and he felt less hungry. (Honestly, I think he tried eating one of the palm leaves when no one was looking. Either that, or he was just enjoying the smell. Or he was using it to comb his beard. Who could tell?) I would have felt bad for him if I knew it wasn’t of his own choosing. He was choosing to practice his Tai Chi rather than work since work would take him away from his Tai Chi. I got the distinct feeling he wanted to be discovered as the next great survivalist… or at least be a contestant on “Naked and Afraid”. Either way, you couldn’t feel too badly for the guy. He had a cell phone on which he watched Tai Chi videos on YouTube.

So, that’s how my Palm Sunday was. How was yours? Meet any new and interesting people? Or do these kinds of things only happen to me?


Things That Made Me Go “Hmm…” – Week 21

Okay, let’s just get to it, shall we? First, for the harrible, terrible, very bad, no good stuff.

  • I know I’ve said it numerous times, but apparently it needs to continually be brought up because it’s reaching new and dangerous heights. What is with the recent Anti-Semitism? Is this Nazi Germany? Is this 1933? WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?! It’s everywhere and for some reason, NO ONE is talking about it because, “Meh. It’s just the Jews. Who cares? Been there, done that.” We can get all up in arms about Indiana’s most recent legislation but the growing Anti-Semitism around the world is somehow irrelevant? Why are we not talking about this?
  • For instance, even “celebrities” (if you can call her that) like Lena Dunham feel the need to jump on the Anti-Semitic band wagon and write absolute garbage like “Dog or Jewish Boyfriend? A Quiz”. And then magazines like the New Yorker publish the garbage as though it has literary merit. Really? REALLY?! (You can’t see me, but I am literally trembling as I type this because I am so outraged…) Lena Dunham is a classless, bigoted, troubled young woman (have you read her book?) who has no business spouting such garbage for others to read. If I never hear her name again, I will be a happy girl. (And yes, I’m disgusted that I possibly gave her even more notoriety for posting about this, but not posting about it was not an option.)

And now to counter the harrible, terrible, very bad, no good things, there is this:

Penguins in Sweaters.

Photo from Huffington Post.

Mind. Officially. Blown.

  • You know what else is adorable? This:

Seriously? How adorable is HE?!

  • And lastly, because we all need a good laugh after the garbage that kicked off this post, there is this. Because I know I struggle daily with figuring out how to spell this silly word that continues to mock me with its bizarre spelling. Silly English language.

That’s it for me, peeps. Over n’ out, good buddies.

Fun at a funeral.

I have a funeral to go to tomorrow.

Funerals are always a good time, right? I love me a good funeral. I mean, who doesn’t love a good funeral?

The last funeral I attended was my father’s and even that was a good time. (Okay. I’m lying. That’s not true. Actually, it was the farthest thing from a good time. It was pretty much the worst thing ever.)

I’m not very good with funerals. Then again, who is? The whole “death” thing used to really get to me. And by “get to me” I mean I’d have full-blown panic attacks which resulted in me curled up in the fetal position on the floor at the mere thought of it. But, then when I actually had to face it for the first time as an adult and not some young child or adolescent who had never really processed the whole thing, it got a little easier. You know, as easy as death can get.

Still, I’m not a big fan of funerals, and tomorrow I have to go to one. Alone.

Friends have offered to bring me with them, but the only thing worse than going alone is going as a third wheel. (Seriously. Is there anything worse than a third wheel? I don’t think so. Not only are you relegated to the back seat of the car like a small child, but you’re also tagging along with the couple like a small child and it’s… just… awkward.) So, I’m going alone. I’m gonna be all brave-like. I mean, how hard can it actually be? You go, you sit there, you give a few hugs, you leave… right? I mean… it’s not some complicated process. Uncomfortable? Sure. Complicated? Not so much. I mean, if I can handle 3rd grade hoodlums for 8 hours I can handle sitting by myself during a funeral for 1 hour… right?

I mean, RIGHT?!

(Okay, here’s where you give me a pep talk and tell me everything is going to be okay. And….. GO!)

Crabby Ms. Evans

For the first time in a very, very long time, I literally (in this context, we’re using the British pronunciation of the word…) feel like doing nothing.

And by nothing, I mean that staring at a wall in silence seems like it would be a little too much to undertake at this point in time.

I never feel like doing nothing. I always have to be doing something. And now?

Nope. Nothing. Not a single solitary thing do I feel like doing.

The 3rd graders I had today pushed every one of my buttons… and then a couple I didn’t even know existed.

They were belligerent, disrespectful, and waaaaaaaaay out of line.

They refused to listen, threw things when they didn’t get their way, mimicked and mocked any adult that dared to call them on their behavior, told bald-faced lies and then cried and threw complete temper tantrums when privileges were revoked.

I’m not the kind of teacher that typically yells, but by the end of the day, you bet your ass I was yelling. By that point, I was no longer taking the diplomatic approach of pulling the student aside and talking to them calmly about their behavior. Nope. When it got to the point of infraction after infraction after FREAKIN’ INFRACTION by the same students, I just used my noisy, angry, “you have GOT to be kidding me with this” teacher voice to tell them in no uncertain terms that they “Need to fix it NOW otherwise you can have a long chat with the principal”. I was flipping cards left and right. They were losing privileges left and right. By the time the buses came, I was like, “Go. Leave. I’m done.”

I HATE being that teacher. Especially when there were some kids who were REALLY onĀ  top of it today. They were following directions. They were being respectful. They were doing what they were supposed to be doing. And yet, they were forced to sit through all my lectures and reprimands. And yes, I made sure the kids who were doing their jobs got extra privileges and kudos from me, but I just felt horrible that a half dozen kids could ruin the day for everyone involved.


So, if you don’t mind, I’m spending the rest of my evening stress-eating and staring off into space.

Kids these days…

A couple of quick, itty-bitty updates.

1. The “literal” debacle of 2015 has “literally” been solved. (Check the comments for the correct answer.) Although… and I’m just spit-balling here… you UK lurkers could have helped a girl out… I’m just saying…

2. Some of you more observant ones may have noticed that I started a new blog today (not to replace this one, but to serve in conjunction with it. Calm down. Nobody panic. I’m not leaving.). And then, just as soon as it graced you with its presence, it disappeared. *Poof!* Just like that. Gone. Annie giveth and Annie taketh away. The reason for this is two-fold:

  • What I wanted to do with the site was not coming to fruition, and I kind of hit the “publish” button sooner than I would have liked. The perfectionist in me would not allow this to stand.
  • It was too difficult to manage two sites under the same WordPress account, and it was causing all kinds of confusion and complications. Therefore, I deleted it so that I could start fresh and publish when I’m fully ready.

If you were one of the observant individuals to have “liked” and/or commented on the new blog (for the full hour that it was in existence), thank you. Sorry I could not preserve your comments and/or likes. Once I have the new site up and running I will let everyone know.

3. And finally, I also updated my blog roll… somewhat. I believe there are a few additional blogs I am following that do not pop-up in my feed, so I will add those to the list as soon as I get up the gumption to check my e-mail and copy names and web addresses down. In the meantime, check out these new awesome additions.

That’s it, peeps. Catch you on the flip side.

I “literally” need an answer to this question. Like… “literally”.

How do you pronounce the word “literally”?

I mean… literally. How do you pronounce it?

I’m asking because, quite frankly, I need to know and I’ve been obsessing over this for the past week.

Previously, I always pronounced it like it was spelled. Lit-ER-all-y. That “er” sound was very pronounced. You know, like a pirate.

But, over the past week, I’ve randomly started saying it without the “er” sound, so that I pronounce it “lit-trally”. Take the “er” out and you have a completely different word.


Does it have something to do with different accents? Do people from different places pronounce it differently? Is it a matter of personal preference? I suppose I could look it up in the dictionary, and find out the answer for myself but… nah. I’m too lazy. Besides, that’s what you people are for.

So, which is it, peeps? Inquiring minds want to know.