Sweet Redemption

When I was younger I played with barbies. I was embarrassed that I liked something so girly, so I used to take my pink toy trunk and all my dolls and play with my Barbies in the safety of my closet. It was safe from passersby and I could accessorize to my hearts desire. But mainly I was away from my brother, Nelson, who had 5 years and about 150 lbs on me.

 We fought all the time when I was a kid and he loved to tackle, wrestle, basically anything that involved him pushing me down and sitting on me so I couldn't breathe. I tried to stay away from him. Especially when I was doing something he would deem stupid and girly... like playing with dolls. He scared me. He quickly discovered my hiding spot and came calling to destroy my Barbie village.

Turns out Nelson didn't just want to make fun of me. He enjoyed playing with my Barbies too.

Although his idea of having fun with them was not something my dolls were used to. He enjoyed torturing them. He got creative too. I could almost hear their little screams.  

I was sick of my brother ruining my toys. His methods of destruction would pop up in the most unexpected places. 

...

...

That was the last straw! The day I found Barbie Bride's head floating alongside Ken's in a shallow porcelain grave was the day I decided something had to be done. I tried pleading with the parental unit,

                                                                          to no avail.

I finally decided to take matters into my own hands. I would hit him where it hurt. I would retaliate with such force that he would never recover. I would make him feel my pain, and that which he truly treasured would soon be destroyed. 

My brother's 1968 Nolan Ryan Rookie Card. I wouldn't ruin it, I would just hide it away for safe keeping. So I had something to bargain with the next time Nelson decapitated Bride and Groom Barbie. 

"You wanna see Nolan again?! Put the happy couple down!!!"

I hid the card away in a book in my closet and forgot about the whole thing; the memory lying dormant in my little brain, waiting for the perfect moment to reappear. 

When my brother did realize his most prized possession was missing, I went to go find it after making him promise to never mess with Barbie again. 

The book I had put it in was gone. I searched and searched but when I couldn't find it I went to my mom, who could always find things I couldn't. (She always said it was because my uterus wasn't fully developed yet. WTF mom?!)

"Oh, those old books up in the back closet? I gave those to Goodwill honey! The man came by yesterday while you were at school and picked up a bunch of old things."

                        

My brother spent the remainder of his youth torturing me AND my Barbies even more viciously than before. My plan to retaliate backfired, and to this day he still hasn't forgiven me. The other day I googled the card to see what it would have been worth. Besides a more peaceful childhood, if we would have kept the card, today it would be worth 28 thousand dollars. Thats a shit ton of Barbie dolls. 

Squirrel Rescue!

Ok. I need to preface this post by informing everyone (and by everyone I obviously mean the one person that follows me) that I am an extreme animal lover. I have a miniature zoo at my house. Seriously. 2 horses, 4 dogs, 2 birds, a cat and I feel it necessary to mention our recently deceased fat-tailed gecko louie. 


This being said- obviously you wouldn't be shocked to know I have managed to never hit an animal with my car. I will literally stop in the middle of the highway to save a turtle. I was often late to class in college because there was a duck pond in between me and advanced molecular biology. (ok so it was art therapy, we drew all day. don't judge me.) Anyway, i've been known to wait upwards of half an hour for a row of fuzzy baby ducks to safely maneuver their way across lindsey street.


Having spent hours of my driving career trying to avoid ending a tiny life, I tend to get a little emotional when I see an animal, all bloody and rigor mortis-like chillin' in the middle of the road. RIP raccoon, possum, north american grizzly. 


Now that I feel confident I have gotten my love for animals across, i'm hoping you might not think i'm crazy for the story i'm about to retell. The story of my heroic squirrel rescue. 




Prologue
One sunny fall day in Norman, I was driving home from class completely absorbed in my N'Sync CD and not really paying attention to anything but the sultry voice of a young, jheri curled Justin Timberlake. I was just about to bust out in the chorus of "bye bye bye" when I was forced to slam on the brakes when I saw the car in front of me, brakes squealing, run over a rogue squirrel. 

It wasn't one of those hits that just abolish the poor little squirrel body, smushing guts all over the road like a gusher. (loved those things when i was a kid.) It seemed like the little guy just bounced off the tire. Maybe he would be ok!
He wasn't. I watched as he collapsed on the concrete. But before I could finish sending up a silent prayer for his little squirrel soul, he was back on his feet and stumbling around like a drunk hobo on a sunday morning. 

Something had to be done. I couldn't just let the little fella lay there suffering in the road. His life couldn't end without knowing that someone cared. I decided to take him to the animal hospital. This called for professionals. I grabbed a towel from the trunk of my car and walked out in the road to scoop him up. I was slightly worried that this adorable creature with his fuzzy tail and pleading eyes would turn out to be a rabies-infested hell creature, but i had to help him. I placed him in the passenger seat and headed towards the vet. 

It seemed like it would be an easy enough transport. Squirrel was twitching a bit, but it wasn't parkinsons' style so I thought maybe I could get him to the vet without incident. But I was a fool. A damn fool. 


Somewhere along the way Squirrel came out of his shock and went insane. 

Damn you hell creature!


Still, I had a mission, and I wasn't going home without getting this guy to a Dr. 


I was ecstatic when i got him there safely. Well, safely for him anyway. I was so proud of myself and my good deed as I handed him over to the vets. They quickly shattered my hope with words like, "brain damage," and "internal bleeding." 

I was so crushed. I had become attached to Squirrel. I just wanted him to live! I was defeated. I think the vet tech saw it all over my face. She told me to wait while she went to talk to the vet again. She came out and told me they were giving the squirrel steroid injections to stop the swelling, and hopefully they would be able to save him then re-release him to the wild. 

Success!! 
Maybe she was lying. I choose to believe it was a miracle. Now everytime i see a squirrel I imagine its my little friend. Hi Squirrel. You're welcome. 

Dramady

This morning as i was busy counting all of the holes in my office ceiling, i was abruptly and obnoxiously interrupted by the most annoying coworker in the company. Brian. He never stops talking. I mean never. (He once argued with me about how Texas is going to secede from the remainder of the United States, for over an hour. And by argued i mean he talked about how awesome it would be and I sat there quietly pretending to answer emails. I was pretty spaced out, but he somehow managed to pull me me back into reality with a rousing rendition of "A Country Boy Can Survive.") Brutal. 

Anyway, this morning he began a review of some movie he and a friend rented from redbox last night. I'm guessing that "friend," was a bucket of chicken and a Mr. Pibb big gulp. He didn't like it. Insert 45 minutes worth of reasons why not. But he thought he was going to like it because it was a "new" genre he read about called a "dramady." While I tried to stop my facial expressions from revealing my surprise that he was in fact literate, he kindly informed me that "dramady" meant it was both a drama and a comedy. Combined. Thanks for enlightening me Bri-Bri.  

I pondered about what movies or shows I watched would be considered to fall into this "newly" developed dramady genre. Maybe its just me, but most shows slash movies have both dramatic and comedic elements, no?

Check out Shakespeare- that man was a beast! He invented dramady! Who decided they could simply combine the two words into one and pawn it off as their own original thought?! How dare they. 

Although... 

the words DO fit nicely together. So much so that I invented my own combinations. Word up.