Becoming a life gangsta

Many people have lately told me that our blog has "fallen off the face of the Earth." These people are wrong and stupid, because anyone who thinks that Earth "has a face" has never seen a satellite image. Welcome to 2010! But yes, I will admit that the writing has been sparse, perhaps because the life has been plentiful? Or maybe the writing has been sparse, because I hate computers.

I realized, with the help of my dear friend Catie Peters, that my recent career choice may be rooted in a repulsion toward technology. Nanny is one of the few remaining jobs that allows me to avoid a computer at all costs! Except it would be much easier if the baby was a robot. Except, OH WAIT --

So I have figured out how to defuse the child. The screaming, crazy, whiny, needy, attention hungry, and literally hungry child. The answer... is fans. I'm not even kidding you. KID IS OBSESSED, in a weird way. In the beginning, it was a cute way. Like, I'd be walking through the living room and the kid would look up at the ceiling, see the fan, and kind of reach toward it and smile. Cute. "Maybe he'll be a scientist!" cried his family. Yeah it's been two months now. Kid is still psychotic over the fan and more. But it's become my favorite weapon. It doesn't matter why the baby is crying -- one day he like ate shampoo, pinched his fingers in a cabinet, and had the flu -- all I have to do is say, "FAN. LOOK AT THE FAN." and he shuts up SO FAST and stares at the ceiling with deferential wonder. I hope you are getting the latent creepiness of his stare.

Anyway, my ability to mind-control the baby has me thinking that I'm on my way to being a life gangsta. What are the other qualities of a life gangsta? Let's see...

- having a shitty shitty car. Yeah, my car died. I wouldn't have fixed it, but it's illegal to leave a car on the side of the road, so I had to shell out mad cash for some mechanic to make it run worse than it did before. Every time I start the car, it gets the shakes like some sort of drug addict for about 10 minutes and then dies 1-2 times as I attempt to pull onto the road. It also smells of noxious gas every time I drive, but that's gangsta, right?

- COWBOY BOOTS. I bought some cowboy boots. I found a fantastic thrift store around the corner, stocked all up on great finds.... only to find out they had no dressing room and no mirrors and no return policy. Consequently, I ended up buying a pair of pants that turned out to be little girls' size 14 and a pair of size 10 cowboy boots for 3 dolla. If I could wear the jeans, I would - LIKE A GANGSTA. And I do wear the boots, despite them giving me jolly green giant feet. GANGSTA.

- Oh yeah, I got aggressive at a bar. I mean, I didn't full on get thrown out like Brandy, but I did rile up some townies. NOTE: This exchange happened at my favorite bar in the world, The Linebacker Lounge, in South Bend.

(Lisa, trying to maneuver through the sardines in a can bar, sloshes a bit of drink on an irritable townie)
Lisa: Oh! Sorry!
I.T.: (rolling her eyes) WHAT THE FUCK?
Lisa: Um, excuse me?
I.T.: I said, WHAT. THe. FUCK!
Lisa: Are you kidding me? You're at The Backer. Are you seriously pissed off at me for getting a little bit of this on you? If you want to stay dry, don't come here.
I.T.: FUCK YOU!
Irritable Townie's friend: What the hell bitch!
Irritable Townie's friend #2: Don't fucking talk to her like that bitch!
Lisa: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT ME TO DUMP THIS WHOLE DRINK ON YOU BITCH?!
I.T.F1: Fuck you!
ITF2: Yeah you better run little girl, there are five of us and only two of you!
Lisa: (as Teresa pushes her away) What the hell! What the hell!

These things happen, sometimes.

- Other gangsta things I've done include smoking candy cigarettes on the roof of my apartment, being so tired every weekend that I pretty much never go out, having weird welts on my tongue (I only write about that because I know it is not an STD and I am insanely curious about what is wrong with me and perhaps someone has some knowledge about this vexing issue in my life but I also realize there is a stigma associated with the problem and people probably assume I have an STD), and acting as a standardized patient at the English language center where I tutor (the doctor I work with is a radiologist and told me my tongue welts are probably from not eating meat. I do not agree. Except ... bahhahah nevermind, I'm not gonna go there).

Currently, I'm sitting on the bed, hanging out with our weird cat, being sick, as usual, because it's gangsta to have infectious diseases from infants. But I've been thinking about my future and I still want to maybe do the Peace Corps or teach English somewhere next year. If anyone can recommend a good program, holla back.

WORD. Yeah but it does feel pretty good to have a weekly schedule. Love it.

Oh and Brandy went to Japan and Germany, but those are her stories to tell. GANGSTAAAAA