Guns don’t always scare me. I’ve shot them from time to time, and I’ve actually enjoyed it. I am from Texas  after all.

I do however, have an extremely deep seated fear of being shot with one, despite the fact that  (Mom, Auntie Linda, and P.J.) please skip over the next sentence) I once played a game of indoor Human Duck Hunt- a game where my friends and I shot each other in the backs with a BB gun.

I can actually pin point the exact moment when my fear came along, and as jokey as I might be whilst telling this story, you have to realize that this was, quite literally, scariest moment of my life.

A few years ago on St. Patrick’s day, a few friends and I went to a bar in Ft Worth that was in walking distance from LA’s apartment. There was a patio out back, and we spent the night drinking green beer and having a blast. A few of our guy friends decided to take off a little early, but LA, Moops, Sally and I all decided to stay back and have one more drink.

By the time we left, we were all quite tipsy… or if I’m really honest, we were down right drunk. We stumbled out the door and proceeded to make our way across a dark parking lot towards the apartment complex. When we were about half way there, LA and I, in our usual fashion, started hitting each other with our purses. Every once in a while, when the moon is right, we are struck with the desire to wrestle, (don’t get happy boys) for entertainment purposes only. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw 2 people walking toward us, but I didn’t think much anything of it at the time.

By the time they approached us, we were so caught up in seeing who could de-foot the other first, that we didn’t get any weird vibes from the two. In any right state of mind, one of the four of us would have thought it strange that the two young people who were not wearing green were standing uncomfortably close to our circle. But no, we kept right on laughing and swinging our purses like drunken asshats.

When one of them tapped me on the shoulder, I assumed it was someone who Lauren knew. I laughed and casually slapped  their shoulder, thinking they were just enjoying the show. After a few more seconds I finally realized that Moops and Sally were laying on the ground, belly down, and one of strangers were standing above them.

I was about 2 sticks away from being this naive.

It wasn’t until saw the gun that I truly realized what was happening. From that point, everything started moving in slow motion. I saw then that they were both holding large, silver guns, and that they didn’t look happy. There was a boy and a girl, both in their twenties. The girl was wearing a large sweatshirt with the hoodie pulled over her face, and the boy was wearing a beanie low on his forehead. Just as I started taking it all in, the girl put a gun up to LA’s head and demanded that she hand over her purse. I watched dumbly as she quickly followed her directions without a protest.

I was then the only one left standing. I can’t remember who, but one of my friends grabbed at my ankle and angrily whispered to “get down.”

“Gimme your purse and get on the ground,” the guy demanded.

Even though I knew what I was supposed to do, I couldn’t make myself move. When I finally remembered how to make my arms work, I struggled with getting my new Beatle’s purse, which had been tightly wound around my wrist for the fight, loose.  When I got it free, I had the thought that I should retrieve my credit card before handing it over. Making what could have been the dumbest decision of my life, I slid my hand into the purse, grabbed the card with my cupped hand, and swiftly put the card in my pocket before thrusting the clutch in their direction.

The guy robber asked me angrily if I had taken something out, and I shook my head to say no before I got on the ground. Luckily they believed me. As we all lay on the ground, the robbers stood over us for what felt like an eternity. Even though my eyes were tightly closed and I couldn’t hear anything except for my own heavy breathing, I could feel the burning of the gun on my back. I was sure that every second would be my last.

After what felt like an eternity, LA shouted  “RUN!” and took off. She was halfway to the gate before the rest of us had even gotten off the ground, but we all followed quickly behind her. I was roughly 250 lbs at the time, but I ran faster than I had ever ran in my life.

Once we were in the apartment, we all got quite emotional. One of my friends who had left the bar early was quick to call one of our stolen phones. The mugger answered and some words (that I won’t repeat) were spoken. The police came and our cards and phones were cancelled.

Looking back, it was quite funny that in the short time it took us to cancel our phones, rap song ring tones had already been purchased and downloaded.

You can bet your sweet ass that none of us slept that night, or slept easy for many nights to come.

So you can probably understand why I got so freaked out when I heard a loud bang out my window the other night. Within seconds LA had rushed out of bed and met me at the office door.

“That was a gun shot, I’m sure of it,” she said.

I screamed something like “OHHOLYFUCKINGSHIT” and ran to the hallway where I slid butt first to the ground. “GET DOWN AND DUCK!!!!”

LA stood above me and calmly told me to get up. “It’s not a drive by, it was just a gun shot. I’m calling the cops.”

So I got up off the ground and dramatically tweeted that gun shots were being shot in my neighborhood. LA went back to bed and I sat up for hours fantasizing about the dramatic shit that went down just across the street. When I drove home for lunch the following day and a moving man and about 4 men mowing the lawn and moving stuff out, I’m pretty sure I was right in my conclusion.

I don’t know the details, but if my imagination serves me correctly, the scenario involved a midget, some drugs, the CIA, and an underground sex tape. I hope I’m wrong.

I’m one of those people (some of you know all too well) who is likely to break out into song and dance anywhere. It’s not calculated. As soon as I hear a song that I like, I can’t help it. I grab the nearest item to me to use as a microphone, and I let loose, honey.

I really do think that theater camp may have a big something to do with it.You put a kid on stage and tell her to sing,  then tell her it was good, (because every kid in theater camp gets a part)  and after so many times, she really starts to believe it.

Don’t worry, I’ve been set straight since then.  I’m a mediocre very bad singer…. (you can quit telling me now, I get the point!)

I cannot carry a tune. But that doesn’t make me love it any less. I have realized that no matter where you are, it’s all about performance. It’s the emotion you put into it. I truly believe this.

I know there are certain people who don’t appreciate my ability to entertain an audience wherever the setting may be.

My mom, for instance. If you asked her what her most embarrassing moment of her life was, she would probably go into detail about the time she took me to the fabric store. She was right in the middle of discussing comforter material with a group of older ladies, when she she heard me bust out at full volume  with “the only one who could ever reach me, was the son of a preacher man”  from across the store. She acted like she didn’t know me until we were safely back in the car when she scolded me and told me that there would be serious consequences if I ever did that to her again.

I now use public singing as a “friendship test” of sorts. If we’re going to be somewhere together in public, there is a good chance I will I start singing  and it would be really awesome if you would join in, or at least not act like you would rather be on fire than be in my presence. You may be embarrassed at first, but there is nothing more liberating than a group sing a long at a hole in the wall restaurant in the middle of nowhere. (Right? I’m talking to you friends who went to the river! The Journey sing-along in  Health camp? Hells yeah!)

I have made venues out of grocery stores, movie theaters, zoos, and gas stations. But I have found a new favorite.

Parks and trails.

Oh yes. Although they are somewhat lacking an audience, there is really nothing like belting out a song while going on a walk. I discovered it a few years ago when I didn’t have a job and had nothing better to do than to go on 6 mile walks in the middle of the day. For the most part, you’re on your own. You can have your ear buds in, and can listen to any song of your choice. The best part is, there is no noise restraint. Even I know not to exceed a certain volume when indoors.

Even more so, when your out in the wide open, you can take it a step further.

You dance.

Not just a normal dance. You have to just completely let the music take you over, and what happens feels glorious. It started out as something I would do to embarrass my mother when we were on walks together, but now I just can’t help it. I’m talking about no dance that you would do under normal circumstances. I wouldn’t even like to do this type of dance (if you can even call it that) in a one mile vicinity of a mirror. What happens to my body is something truly worse than even the Muppet Babies could pull off. It’s like one of those exercises we do in improv workshops, where you just let the different parts of your body move without really thinking about it. I know I sound like a complete weirdo right now, but just try it when no one is looking, and I think you ‘ll see what I mean.

Tonight my roommates and I decided to go on a walk together. I put my ear buds in and went at my own pace. I started out belting a little Aerosmith, then switched to Death Cab, and made my rounds through Van Morrison and The Smiths. I had just started spastically moving and singing along to Mariah Carey’s “I don’t want A lot For Christmas”  (It’s November this is ok now) when my roommate, Jake, tapped me on the arm to tell me he and Denny were going to take the short route and head home to start dinner.

I usually would have just kept going without a thought, except for today, for the first time in months, it was pitch black at 6:30pm (fucking daylight savings) and the path we were walking on was through a very unlit patch of woods. And there was a giant full moon, which just put me a little on edge. I probably would have just turned around with the roomies, except I couldn’t shake the memory of me eating about 17 tortilla rolls and 10 mini kit-kats at around 4 o’clock on Saturday morning, and I just couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do something to ward of that repercussion.

The following conversation occurred:

CJ: What do  you mean y’all are going home?

Jake: You can come too… we just want to get a head start on the chicken…

CJ: But it’s DARK. I could get raped… or murdered!

Denny: Just keep singing and dancing the way you are now… no one would dare to come near you!

And that, friends, is exactly what I did.  I sung at full volume and spastically danced my way through the woods. It all went well until I came upon a group of skateboarders, one of which I couldn’t see clearly and I thought he was charging at me. I screamed very loudly at him.

I’m not sure which was more scary. Me yelling at a skater boy to fuck off and leave me alone in an extremely high pitched yelp or my approaching them using moves and a pitch my dad couldn’t even come up with.

Either way, I plan on continuing my tour through the woods, but only once I’ve purchased some high quality pepper spray.

Lyrics to Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now :
Lyrics by Stephen Morrissey
Music by Johnny Marr
I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour
But heaven knows I’m miserable now

I was looking for a job, and then I found a job
And heaven knows I’m miserable now

In my life
Why do I give valuable time
To people who don’t care if I live or die ?

Two lovers entwined pass me by
And heaven knows I’m miserable now

I was looking for a job, and then I found a job
And heaven knows I’m miserable now

In my life
Oh, why do I give valuable time
To people who don’t care if I live or die ?

What she asked of me at the end of the day
Caligula would have blushed

“You’ve been in the house too long” she said
And I (naturally) fled

In my life
Why do I smile
At people who I’d much rather kick in the eye ?

I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour
But heaven knows I’m miserable now

“You’ve been in the house too long” she said
And I (naturally) fled

In my life
Why do I give valuable time
To people who don’t care if I live or die ?

I want to preface this with the fact that I am well aware that what I’m doing on this blog may not interest you in the tiniest bit. You may have come across this page and criticized my writing, or wonder why the fuck I think anyone would care about the fact that I had yet another “shitting myself” dream. And  that’s cool with me. I really couldn’t care less about your judgment of me; therefore feel  no less guilt about judging others.

Which brings me to what I hate today: Food blogs.

I  want to be clear what I mean by “Food Blogs.” I am not talking about recipe or cooking blogs that serve a purpose in explaining how to make and present meals… Or even food review blogs, where people tell me what I should order. I’m talking about  the people who have a personal blog, and don’t have anything more  interesting to share with the world, other than what they ate for their last meal. If you’ve never come across one of these blogs, just browse any blog directory and you are sure to find one within the first ten minutes of browsing. In fact, I’m pretty sure the “blog world” is comprised of about 30% foodie blogs, 40% mommy blogs, 20% blogs about blogging and other technical shit, and about 10% of the blogs are in the miscellaneous category.

Here is an example of how a Food Blog post might look.

____________________________________________________________________________

This week I’m trying to save money and avoid the rain so I decided to eat lunch at my desk. Thank goodness I remembered to grab my lunch on the way out. I also decided that today I’m going to eat healthy. We’ll see if that decision will hold true until dinner time!

I decided to start with Apples and Cinnamon Oatmeal, my favorite!!!

I washed it down with a Diet Coke! I wish it was a real one, but I already had 2 cokes for breakfast (see last post) so I’m trying to be good!

Then I ate a yummy apple! EE gads!!  That’s a lot of apple products for one day!!! What I wouldn’t do for a camel apple sucker!!

For desert I had a Dark chocolate pudding cup! Delicious and only like 100 calories!

But I was STILL Hungry!!! MMMmmm string cheese! Light! only about 3 of these fills me up! hehehe

Cinnamon trident gum is my favorite! I usually have at least half a package a day!!!

________________________________________________________________________________

Ok so maybe the average “Food Blog” is a little more interesting than this, but they still get on my nerves. And I know people read them! My best friend probably reads food blogs more than she reads mine.

Maybe I’m just jealous that people are eating things that are so much more interesting than I eat.

Or maybe they just plain suck.

I don’t know whether it’s driven by insecurities, the need to fit in, or just habit- but I have realized that I apologize for everything, even when there is absolutely no reason to apologize.

Scenario 1: Yesterday I’m at the grocery store. An obnoxious lady with big blue hair and 2 loud little boys comes up behind me in the freezer section. I’m making a grab for a ham and cheese lean pocket when she reaches around me to grab a handful of frozen quiches. I withdrew my arm, backed out of her way, said “oh, I’m sorry,” and patiently waited until she was finished.

What I should have said: Excuse me bitch. But my arm was in this freezer before your turkey goblin arm reached around me. You can wait. And shut your kids up.  And do something about that mustache.

Scenario 2: Also at the grocery store a while back. I’m waiting for the guy at the deli counter to finish up with his current customer so I can order some roast beef. I notice another girl standing about the same distance back from the counter as I am. She is on her phone very engaged in her conversation and doesn’t particularly look like she is waiting. When the deli guy is finished we make eye contact and I approach the counter. Just as I’m apologizing for not immediately knowing which variety of Roast beef I will be having, I hear “excuuusee me miss, but I was waiting here first,” from the loud phone gabber, who incidentally is still on the phone. She rolled her eyes at me as she took my place at the counter.

I nervously reply, “Oh I’m sorry… I didn’t realize… Here go ahead. I’m sorry”

What I should have said: Uh Uh bitch. You take your need- to- be- washed and completely out- of- date cut off shorts to the restroom, which is the only place you should be having such a dirty conversation.  And maybe you should go to the fish section and buy some crabs so you can eat what you have.

Scenario 3: In the restroom just a few minutes ago.  I’m doing my thing. Number one mind you. Either way I’m taking just a moment to enjoy a few minutes away from the office. I thought that I had locked the door… well, because why wouldn’t I? Lo and behold, what happened next was the moment every public restroom go-er most fears- the walk in. The stall door opens and hits me in the knees. I look up and grab for toilet paper to cover myself and I say, “Oh my gosh I’m sorry!!”  I said it! All I hear from the outside of the already shut again stall, is “Oops my bad.”

What in the hell? I said sorry to the impossibly rude woman who barged in on me taking a leak!

What I should have said: Nothing. She should have said “Oh I’m so sorry..” Then maybe I could have responded with a  blushing “ohh it’s ok, im just peeing…” Or even if she hadn’t apologized I should have said nothing, wiped, waited until she started peeing, and bust open her stall.

I can’t be the only one with this problem, but even if I am- I’m putting an end to it, today. Never again will I move out of the way for person walking towards me while typing on their blackberry, and apologize when their shoulder hits mine. No longer will I step into a crowded elevator and apologize for making the area just a little more crowded. Never again will I apologize for bursting into song while running on the treadmill. ( Ok maybe that one deserves an apology…)

I’m gonna work on this and see how it goes. I’ll let you know.

Sorry for the rant.