EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT!

Sound the alarm! For, today, as I take a break from my regretfully stretched and delayed alphabetical posting spiel (D-post coming soon!) I bear great news that shall be spread throughout bloggerdom...well, at least to my readers/future readers.

Yours truly has finally found herself a job.

FINALLY!!!!!

Okay, now, I know you're probably thinking "Um, and why should this matter to me?" To that I shall have two responses:

Response Numero Uno: **ultimatesadface**:( Aren't you happy that I found a job and can now pay for school and the ridiculous gas-guzzling monstrosity I call my car (actually, I call him Sir Liam, but that is another story for another day)

Response Numero Dos: As my new position is as a waitress at Waffle House, and I've had about .00000000000001% experience in waiting tables (unless you count being waited on) there should definitely be some interesting stories, full of klutzy maneuvers, interesting customers, and, quite possibly, me with egg on my face. You, my readers (if I still have any) will hopefully have more great stories to tune into.

Now, for those of you who do not know what a Waffle House is, here is a picture:

It's a diner-type restaurant really popular in the South (I have no idea if it's located elsewhere in the United States -- readers care to enlighten me?)  It's open 24/7, every single day of the year even on Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Leap Day. My favorite part is that WaHo (as I have had friends call it) serves breakfast ALL day, EVERY day. Yum. Unfortunately, being that I have decided (again) to lose weight (.....again), working here will be torturous, but in a fabulous way. I'll be able to put Mr. Self-Control to work...once I found out what happened him.

Now, back to the possibility of interesting stories. For the protection of any person involved (as well as my blog) I shall resort to changing the name, features, and possible gender of the person(s) about whom I write my witty tales. However, if I happen to tell a funny story about a curly-haired pregnant man named John, it can be safe to assume that the real person was a woman....I hope....

--

On a side note, I would like to explain to my possibly doubtful readers why my posts are so few and far in between.

I live with my grandmother, who has probably never touched a computer in her life and is happy with the idea of never going near one. That being said, I do have a computer at my house, but we do not have Internet, making posting anything to the Internet difficult indeed.

However, there is a library approximately 1 mile away.

So, why in name of Cleopatra's pet cat do I not have a million posts up? I've have been making a job out of finding a job all summer. And now, months later, after 45 applications, 80 visits, and lots of driving and begging and crying and cursing, I found something. (Now, don't get me wrong, I know there are people who have spent a lot longer looking for a job and still haven't found one and my heart goes out to them. I hope our government can grow up and fix the economy before we are knee-deep in unemployment and trillions of dollars worth of debt ...oh...wait....we already are...damn).

Since I have a job now, however, all those hours will be put in toward making money so I can finish up my schooling, thereby spending more hours unable to blog. Oy vey. I'd love to have one of these little contraptions, really:



Maybe school will bring some interesting stories. We'll know in just a few weeks, eh?

Now, my faithful readers (again, if I have any), here is something to tickle your funny bone, lest this post was simply not colorful enough:

 

Damn, I can tell I'm off to a rough start already. I didn't have the mandatory two years of in-ovary training. Um, can you get a GED for that? I'll just have to be a real....

Eggsactly. Better than the average local-yolkel.

 

Amen to that.





The Curious Case of Benjamin (my brother)

No worries, you read the title correctly:

Well, finally, after a gazillion years since I made my "B" post, I'm finally ready to post my "C" one. I had spent much of my time trying to figure out what to write about in those gazillion years. My ideas contained titles like "The Curious Caper of the Cadbury Creme Eggs" In which I'd try and spin a funny tale of mystifying intrigue and sleuthing derived from my intense sadness that I couldn't find anymore Cadbury Creme eggs after Easter (which is a "chocoholic tradition" in my family) because my car broke down and by the time I finally got it fixed they were sold out (and by "broke down" I mean that it worked fine, it just didn't stop moving and I didn't feel like going off a cliff for a 'chocolat et creme' egg). However, after moving back to my home town in MAY, I found a cascade of them at Rite Aid. So I bought four. Thank you Rite Aid!!!

So, I decided that there was no reason to work that title as it was no long necessary. Well, shortly after moving back to my hometown, I start looking for work while at the same time lamenting over the fact that I had no clue (and I still don't) as to what I want to be "when I grow up" and graduate college (which is in less than a year and a half, mind you). So I considered a new topic for my capricious "C" post. "The Career Conundrum."  Which, since I still have no job (don't judge, I'm trying!) and no clue what I want to do, specifically, when I graduate, this blog topic would still be quite compatible....but the thought is too depressing....thus, "The Career Conundrum," too, is lost. For now, it will be filed away with the other Cold Cases.



Fortunately, something, or rather someone, came along quite unexpectedly, and I now, after tweaking an already famous title, have my cantankerous "C" post.

Here goes:

Once upon a time there was a man (my dad) and a woman (not my mom). The two got married and had a child. I will call said child Benjamin, because that is his name, so it makes sense. Anyway. The man (my dad) and the woman (still not my mom) decided that they could not be together anymore, so they got a divorce. Soon after, the woman (you guessed it, still not my mom) remarried and took Benjamin to live with her husband. This new husband adopted Benjamin, so his last name changed. After THAT, there was another divorce and remarriage and Benjamin and his new half brother moved to the third father's house. The new family moved elsewhere (I will not provide details in the interest of privacy).

Let me clarify with a picture:

Meanwhile: The first man (my dad) met another woman (my mom). They married and, five years later, had child (ME! =D). Said child grew up, even after her parents divorced when she was 4, thinking  she was an only child. The while watching something on television where a young girl had an older brother that stood up for her or did something otherwise sweet and big-brotherly, the girl (not the one on tv, but ME!) sighed, and said aloud "I wish I had a big brother."

That's where it all started. See, after I said that I wished I had a big brother, my mom, who happened to be passing by on her way to the kitchen at that exact moment stopped and said something along the lines of "But you have one..."

You can imagine my face.

Yeah, kinda something like that. (FYI: in searching for this picture, I discovered that there is a place called "Surprise, Arizona." Does that mean it has trees and rain? That'd be a surprise.)

Anyway. After I found out I had a brother, I knew I just HAD to find him. Now, here is some math for you:

I found out that I had a big brother when I was about 11 or 12 years old. I'm 21 now (woot!) so that means I have been wanting to meet him for about 10 years.
21 - 11 = 10
Got it? Here is another bit of arithmetic:

My mother told me that she met my brother about 6  years before I was born (so about 1 year before she married my dad) at this time and she says my brother was about 14 years old. That would make him older than me by...well, you do the math (20 years).

TWENTY!!!

That's some big brother, eh? More like a super-big brother, but I digress. Anyway, to the good part of the story.

Well, I spent a good long time trying to find my brother. My dad said he hadn't heard from Ben, my super-big brother, since that time before he married my mom (which, turned out to be a false statement, but whatever). So, essentially, super-big brother Ben was lost to me. When my father died March 23, 2010, I lost all hope of finding him. I tried piecing together what I knew (I only knew about the second husband and something about Maryland and what my brother's new last name might be). But, seriously, I gave up any thought of actually finding him.

A few weeks ago, late one Saturday night, I got a lead from a family member through another family member, both on my dad's side. There was a book, and I will not release the title in the interest of privacy, but this book was about Ben's mother and mentioned him. I happened to be a mall at that very moment and dragged my boyfriend to the resident Border's Bookstore to find the book. But because I was given the incorrect title by the second family member, something I didn't find out til later that night, I didn't find the book.

I went back home with my boyfriend, depressed, but I didn't give up. I Googled the title of the book, found the correct one on Amazon, did research on the subject matter and, VOILA, I found my brother.....seriously.

It took me another two hours, but I eventually found his adopted sister online. I fervently messaged her via facebook, explained the situation and prayed that 1: she was the right person and 2: that my brother would want to talk to me.

I had given my information to the adopted sister and she said she'd let him know (such a sweet girl) and so I waited (quite impatiently) for any contact....Monday afternoon, around 2 o'clock, I got a call. I answered groggily (because I had a migraine from all the excitement and took a nap to feel better) and I heard the magic words that I'll never forget: "Hi, Taylor? I know this may sound weird, but I think I'm your brother."

SHAZAAM!

Those words worked like Excedrin Migraine pills, but for life (except I still ended up having a rough two days with a horrid migraine).
But, I found him. And so, after 10 years of wanting a big brother, and 2 1/2 hours of some concrete searching based on a random tip, I found my brother.

I've talked to him several times since that first call, and I'm so stoked.

So, if you have any long-lost relatives, don't give up. You'll find them. Or you could have me do it! I'm a regular old SIT (sleuth-in-training -- hey, maybe Master Sleuth will be my life occupational specialty)!

...Then again, mine was easy because he has a rather famous mom, but, I'm not telling how. :P

---

So, there it is, my elusve "C" post, long over-due like a forgotten library book.

Anyway, to break up the black-and-white (or, rather, green-and-green) monotony of the thick block of words above, here is a picture of Surprise, Arizona. Let's see what the surprise is all about:

Wow, that is a surprise!

Here's where it's located, in case you want to take your sweetie on a surprise getaway, literally.

 And, ha, for the record, if this is seriously a police badge from Surprise:



...and if I had grown up there, I would have seriously joined the police force, just for the pleasure of jumping out at criminals and yelling "Surprise Police!"

Hmm, perhaps catching criminals is the answer to my career conundrum....hmmmm.

Tootles!

PS: Just a thought. If the whole town of Surprise got together for some huge party, does everyone have to act shocked the whole time, being that it is a Surprise Party?

British Balderdash

“England and America are two countries separated by a common language.”
-George Bernard Shaw (Irish Dramatist and Socialist)

Well, ain't that the truth. =D

As of late, it has become almost a fad to be so entranced by the “British” or “English” (nevermind that there are more variations in British accents than in American ones—to some there is only THE “British/English Accent.”  The ONE. Only one. Right.). Well, the Brits are well aware of this fact, as evident by my all-time favorite movie ever, Love Actually. The Bar scene in Wisconsin? I'd show a link but youtube does not have a clip anymore. Gah! Utter bollocks, eh? =D

It’s not only the British accent that takes America’s hearts by storm, however, but also the multitude of “foreign” words and phrases.

While I was piddling about online, looking for words for my ‘A’ post, I happened across an article on Merriam-Webster.com about the Top 10 Favorite British Words. “Bam!” I thought. “I believe I found my ‘B’ post!” (Okay, I didn’t think ‘Bam!’ exactly, but it begins with a ‘B,’ so just go with it. :P) See the link below.

Top 10 Favorite British Words 

 If, however, the case is that you can't be bothered to bumble over there, I will, beneficently, list them and their meanings below, along with some sure-to-be beneficial uses. Let's put the writer in me to work and see if I can't tell a story with my explanations.

1: Prat:  \ˈprat\ Noun - A stupid or foolish person. (eg. "I say, Colin, that muppet Jeb is a right prat")

2: Twee: \ˈtwē\ Adjective - Affectedly or excessively dainty, delicate, cute, or quaint (eg. "I agree, mate, but he's got a twee bird. Anyroad, care to go to the pub?") 

3: Knackered: \ˈna-kərd\ Adjective - Tired; Exhausted. (eg. "I don't think so, Colin, I'm knackered. I think I'll get my lorry and go home.")

4: Jiggery-Pokery: \ˈji-gər-ē-ˈpō-kər-ē\ Noun - Underhanded manipulation or dealings. (eg. "Going home. Right. Really, Mark, you ought not be up to any jiggery-pokery again.)

5: Plonk: \plonk'\ Noun - Cheap or inferior wine. (eg. "Seriously, mate. I'm gonna go to the off-licence, get some plonk, and head to my gaffe")

6: Chunter: \ˈchən-tər\ Verb - To talk in a low inarticulate way: mutter. (eg. "Oi, what's that mate? You know I can't here a thing when you chunter like that.")

7:Whinge: \ˈhwinj, ˈwinj\ Verb - To complain fretfully; Whine. (eg. "Why do you always whinge about the way I talk, you daft loon.")

8: Gormless: \ˈgȯrm-ləs\ Adjective - Lacking intelligence; Stupid. (eg. "Daft loon?! Well, you're a gormless git if ever I saw one!")

9: Boffin: \ˈbä-fən\ Noun -  A scientific expert; especially : one involved in technological research. (eg. "What's that? I can't understand you. I think I'd need a boffin to be able to understand what comes out of your barmy gob!")

10: Pukka: \ˈpə-kə\ Adjective - Genuine; Authentic. Also: First Class. (eg "I'm gonna stick my boot in yer arse for that o- oh ho ho. Look at that, Mark. It's a right pukka pub. Got a door supervisor an' everything! Let's go get ratted!")

And there you have it, my friends. Welcome to the odd eccentricities of my mind, which, apparently, functions as two arguing drunk British men.

That aside, here is some more British wordplay fun in the form of Hugh Laurie on 'Ellen.'

Ellen and Hugh Laurie in the same room = genius

“I was chuffed to bits by your badonkadonk"

Those apple bottom jeans and furry boots will now be a recurring theme in my blog, it would seem.

Hope you enjoyed my babble and waffle.

Oh, ahem, I mean, I hope you all were chuffed to bits. 

And if I ever have to luck to have a British reader or two, this was all in fun and I mean no insult. In fact, I'm one of those crazy people that love your country much too much!

Unfortunately for me, most words I'd love to say, sound absolutely silly without an accent (any accent).And, as for Cockney Rhyming Slang, that's a whole other language and I'll leave it up to you septics to figure it out. =D

Anyroad, I hope to have some readers for my 'C' post, lets hope my attempts at humor hasn't bored everyone (I do find today's entry a bit of a laugh, so I guess that worth something, huh?)

Cheerio! 

Back to being American now! 

Bye y'all!

Alphabetical Rebellion and Apparation

Or would apostasy be more appropriate? I expect not, considering the negative political and religious overtones. I was just on a role. I am just adjusting my vocabulary to it's vocabularic apex.

Okay, enough of that. Basically, I am arriving to the A-to-Z party VERY (although quite fashionably) late. For those of you unfamiliar with the Challenge, see here. I first learned of this challenge before my jump into Bloggerdom from a dear friend, and, now fellow blogger, Jenny. As you may notice, the A-to-Z Challenge takes place throughout the month of April. Yeah, about that: April's pretty much gone. But, being an English Major and an alliteration admirer (haha!), as well as an intensely impatient person, I decided I couldn't wait a whole year to get my alphabetical groove (assuetude) on.

Now here's the hard part. What do I write about?

There are loads of a-word topics, many of which would make for an absolutely awesome entry. I mean I could talk about a number of things:
Acrobats
Arachnophobia (I HATE spiders)
The name Arthur
Aardvarks
Arthur, the aardvark
Apple-Bottom Jeans, whatever those are (apparently something you wear with furry boots)
Alpenglow (the light on mountains at sunrise or sunset)
Anthomania (flower obsession)

See? There is an wide assortment of amenable articles, achievements, and adjectives on which I can author. 


But, today, along with telling you of my alphabetically rebellious actions, I am going to write about which superpower (other than flying) I wish I could have:

The Ability to Apparate. 

I told you that I was a Harry Potter dork, don't say I didn't warn you. But seriously. How cool would it be to apparate and disapparate between places. Let me make my case.

Taylor's Authoritative Assertions Why it Would Be Awesome to Apparate

1: You would never be late to anything because of...

•  Traffic

• Laziness

•   The little old lady that cross the street right when you're trying to get somewhere

2: The rising gas prices would have no effect on your travels or sanity:

3: You could travel anywhere and be back home in time for supper.

4: You could travel anywhere and just have supper there. Ahhh, Italia!

5: You could pop in and out of rooms and annoy and/or the hell out of anyone and everyone!

6: You could seriously impress your friends by the way you get all knotty and wibbly when you disapparate, like in the later Harry Potter installments

and

Now wouldn't that just be so excruciatingly fun?!

Of course, this skill is for witches and wizards alone. Oh, apparently Legos© too:

 

I'm slightly disturbed at the fact that your head apparently disappears first, but, as long as I don't splinch myself, and end up walking headless down some road, I think it'd be a blast!