Memory

My memory is pretty much hit or miss. Sometimes I forget something the second you tell me, other times I remember every detail of that moment down to what I was thinking at the time I made the decision.
For instance, I remember a time when I was little, say about 5 or 6, and I was riding in my parent's van in the back playing with some toys. My mom was driving and my sister was in the passenger seat next to her. The toys I was playing with were two identical plastic Daisy Ducks. While I was playing with them it suddenly dawned on me: "I have two Daisy Ducks. I do not need two of the exact same toy. One of them must go."
So, I decided which of the two was the better Daisy and shoved the other out of the tiny crack in the window as we were driving down the highway.
That is how clear my memory is at times. And that is how clear it is about the time I electrocuted myself.
Well, right up to the point of electrocution, that is.
I was living in San Antonio at the time in a nice two story. My family was packing for the move to Houston and everything was either in a box or out of the house already. I was about three or four and I decided it was a good idea to go play in my parents' huge walk-in closet. For some reason I happened upon my dad's toolbox somewhere in between what used to be my room and my parent's. When I saw that pair of needle-nosed pliers I knew what I had to do. I had to find out what the other side of that electrical socket looked like. So I took the pliers and I moseyed on down to the biggest closet in the house, so big that it even had a wall socket in it. I sat down and studied the socket, deciding the best method to use. I'd seen my dad use tools plenty of times, I was practically a pro. I looked at every angle, every curve and every possible entry way. After settling on my method of entrance, I lifted the pliers and aimed.
The moment before I made contact I imagined just how the other side would look. Would there be a large tangle of wires criss-crossing in in every direction? Or perhaps, an army of tiny men running on hamster wheels? There was only one way to find out.
So I took the pliers and shoved them into the socket.
I only remember what I've been told after that. According to my dad what happened after I almost blew myself up was there was a loud pop, a thud, and a moan (from me) heard coming from the other room. And then all of the power was gone. My dad knew I must have done something so he followed the sound of his idiot toddler into his closet. When he and my mom came in I was on the side of the closet opposite of the socket on my back. My dad scooped me up and ask what happened and the first thing that came out of my mouth was "I saw blue light."
Because of the rubber on the handle of the pliers there was no serious damage done to me or the house. However the power did go out in the whole neighborhood. And the ends of the pliers were slightly melted. And occasionally I get glimpses of the future. But other than that, no harm done.
At least, nothing that will compare to what's coming...

Ashley

Quote says "I hate the world"

Created March 1, 2011

Banana Pudding Diaries

Sunday, February 20, 2011
12:17 p.m.

There I was, sitting at my desk, minding my own business, eating my lunch.
I had just finished all eleven levels of Genius Game (again) and decided to read some articles on one of my favorite websites when I took my last bite of catfish, finishing my lunch. I threw away my to-go box and began browsing again when I saw it.
White, styrofoam, round- it was calling my name.
The banana pudding.
I had ordered it on a whim, not realizing the effects it would have on me. It had been so long, years even, since I'd last tasted the creamy goodness of the pudding, I never saw it coming.

I knew I needed to stop. I knew that if I kept going the way I was going it would only get worse.

And then...

It all happened so fast! And then, it was all over.

I'm weak, yes, but in the best possible way.

New Shampoo

The other day I bought new shampoo, and the thing I love most about buying new shampoo is the new smell.

It's a cycle, I buy new shampoo and LOVE the smell. I go on for days about how good my hair smells and can't stop messing with it and even wear it down so that it's easier to smell. I feel great, my new shampoo gives me confidence. I feel prettier because my hair smells better. I walk taller, and flip my hair all the time. I'm sure I'm sexy, because my hair smells sexy.

However, I overdo it. I constantly smell my hair. Every chance I get I bring a handful up to my nose and sniff.

And eventually I get tired of it.
But I keep using it because there is still half a bottle left and I am too poor to buy new shampoo every time I get tired of the way my current shampoo smells.

I become slightly depressed. I no longer feel sexy. My hair is no longer exciting and I don't want to hold it up to my face every chance I get. I don't look forward to showering anymore. My mornings become rushed because I put off taking a shower until the absolute last minute. Because I waited so long to take a shower I have little time to get ready. My eye shadow is rushed and I throw my hair into a bun or wet pony tail just so I'm not late to work. Days drag on and I find myself trapped in some kind of monotonous haze. Until finally, one day as I'm showering I squeeze the shampoo bottle and hear the noise that can only mean an end to the boring fog that is my hair. And the cycle begins again.

Not Okay

I'm playing The Genius Game, a game where you're supposed to beat ten levels to earn the title of "genius". Well, I beat ten levels, and what did I get? Another level. Those bastards. So this is my proof, this picture is what I have to show to the world so that they will know, once and for all, that I am a genius. But don't worry, I won't forget the little people that helped me get where I am today.

If you feel like playing the genius game, here's the link. Good luck.http://apps.facebook.com/gamegeniuss/index2.php

Also, in case you were wondering, after level eleven there is nothing. Just. Nothing. After fighting, tooth and nail, level by level, to what you think might be the very justification you've been seeking you beat ten levels only to be given yet another level, proving that no matter what you do it will never be good enough. And after level eleven, when you, a seasoned genius game vet, are ready for the challenge of another level you are taken back to level one. It is a true slap in the face.

By The Way

For the record, not every post will be some silly drawing. I plan on having plenty of those along with posts containing more than twenty words. I just haven't thought of anything yet.

This One Is NOT On Facebook, It's Just For YOU!

Created: I forgot when. Probably December 2010.