I Love the Crap Outta Him.

This is my Grandaddy. His name is James. I call him Grandaddy. His birthday was yesterday. He is old.

He’s pretty much the most awesome individual on the face of the planet. He used to have a Jheri curl until he realized the product in his hair was making him sick. Now he gets a fade.

He plays the lottery (I gave him tickets for Christmas) and tends to a crazy garden now that he’s twice-retired.

He helped raise me growing up, babysitting me everyday while my mom was at work. He made me Goober Grape sandwiches everyday, and let me pick out my own breakfasts in the morning, which usually consisted of choosing which cereal from the Kellog’s multi-pack I was feeling. He used to make me french fries for lunch, and if he didn’t I would tell on him to Val. He would take me on walks for exercise, and sometimes (but don’t tell anybody) he would leave me in the car while he went into a bar. I can’t complain though…he was like 50+ taking care of a 3-year old all day, everyday. I’m sure it was rough/ boring.

He was my escort when I was nominated for homecoming queen.

He is a die-hard Lakers fan.

His favorite restaurant is Sizzler. Whenever he wanted to have a heart-to-heart with me, he would take me there.

He makes fun of me, all the time. He used to call me Galarraga, making fun of my last name, while simultaneously paying homage to his favorite baseball team.

He drives a hardbody F150.

I am afraid of him dying, more than anybody else in my entire life. Sometimes when I talk to him I start crying when I hang up the phone. One time when I was on ’shrooms I saw the Grim Reaper coming to get him, and I cried so hard I fogged up my glasses.

He is my hero. I love him. He is fucking rad.

Happy Birthday Grandaddy!!!

A Tattoo…

…for realsies.

What poor bastard is stuck with this shit for the rest of his life? Probably one that’s on house arrest, and is stuck in his trailer watching daytime tv.

W.o.W. 5.29.08

“Things turn out best for people who make the best out of the way things turn out”
-James Wooden

I read this little nugget of insight last night on the inside of Ferna’s limeade bottle. I don’t know why, but it makes me crack up. Like no shit, Sherlock. I feel this is something that was probably said to make the masses complacent.

Never settle. Be glad with what you have, bet never settle. When life gives you lemons, you paint that shit gold, right?

Is it wrong…

…that I’m pumped for this?

video.vh1.com

Looks like it’ll be one huge shit show.

And I’m watchin’.

Chores.

There are very few chores that I enjoy, if any. I don’t mind washing dishes or vacuuming. I don’t even mind cleaning the bathroom (when nudged gently). But on a whole, I not too big on the cleanliness. I mean it’s nice to have a clean room, but chances are I’m just going to muss it up again 45 minutes later…so the cycle kinda sucks.

However, there is one thing that I totz am in to. All the time. And that’s cleaning out my closet. I can’t think of anything any more fun than playing with my clothes, shoes, and accessories. And it totally counts as cleaning, so win-win-win.

My closet is arranged by color, going in rainbow order. It is separated by t-shirts, then blouses, sweaters, dresses, hoodies, and then jackets. I have cubbies for my jeans, other bottoms, and quite wastefully even a section for tube tops. I’m still trying to figure out where to put these, because honestly they aren’t very practical in the Yay. It’s freezing here. Like all. of. the. time.

This may (or may not) seem a little much. But here comes my favorite part.

Since I am quite aware I have a shopping problem, I long decided that I would no longer buy hangers and cram my closet full of shirts with googly eyes, and embroidered sweaters from my grandmother. (Just as a disclaimer, let it be known that I would never actually own that shit.) I stuck on a set amount of hangers, and then when I do my laundry or buy new shit, I start the Battle Royale of clothes. Or a Survivor. For cotton-poly blends. When I run out of hangers, I have to decide what will go. Most of the time it’s t-shirts that I don’t care about/hate. But sometimes I have to let go of shit that I will never, ever wear, but I really, really dig. Like my off the shoulder Obey shirt with Andre the Giant’s face repeating like a photo booth strip. I used to wear it with black, pink, and gray argyle socks rolled all the way up and cuffed jeans.

I was really into cuffed jeans. Now not so much.

So the moral of the story is, sometimes we just have to let go.

R.I.P. Chartreuse stripped v-neck that totz matched my Air Max 95’s. You will never be forgotten.

Chairs with Feet Appreciation Post

Cuz who doesn’t like chairs with legs that look like real legs.

Honestly, I’m pretty cool off the chair. I just have to play it cool for the BF.