So I promised pictures from when my parents were here and we went to the oh-so-lovely tractor parade, and today I finally got my firewire cord back…

The tractor parade… see, I told you.

The giant cow. I asked my dad if he wanted to go and stand by it while I took a picture… his response, “Do you want me to pretend I’m giving it a mammogram?” Yup. That’s my dad, lol.

Say it with me now… “ewww.”

Since I know how much Harley loves toe socks, I couldn’t resist… lol.

My dad scared me shitless with this thing.

It’s freaking uge. (No, that’s not a spelling error—it’s a word. 😉 )

My dad in the rearview mirror. Isn’t he cute? 🙂

My dad using his loops to fix my windchime. It’s so handy to have a doctor for a father. 🙂

There are more, but I’ll spare you.

You know you are my favorite person, yes? 🙂 🙂

Thank you doll! I love the sign—and the tea stuff… how did you know I needed the little trays?!

Oh, and thanks for not peppering the box with confetti. Bless you. 🙂

People dragging their rolley trashcans down the driveway in the rain, mere moments after I accidentally watched Scream 3.

Scary. As. Hell.

Witness the return of the early morning drunken phone calls.

Girls suck.

Hello?

Hi! How are you? Missed you!

Um. What do you want?

You sound tired?

It’s 4 in the MORNING on a SUNDAY.

Right. OK. You know, I should just call you back tomorrow.

Good plan.

I haven’t talked to you in ages. I’ve missed you.

Uh huh. You too.

Wow, you really sound tired.

::growling noise:::

There’s the girl I know and love… OK, I’ll call you back tomorrow.

Good.

I just want to say. Girls suck. A lot. And they play games. And I hate games. And why can’t they be like guys?

Ah I see. What did she do exactly? And which one is this?

We were dating and I thought it was going well and now she just doesn’t want to anymore and I’m moving to Florida. Definitely. In three months.

Oh that’s good.

Yeah, ’cause then I can call you at a normal time for me—and you.

Good plan.

Night. I LOVE you. Miss you. Talk to you tomorrow.

Love you too Sawyer. Go to sleep.

Isn’t she adorable?

I don’t know why I’m calling you. I just picked up the phone and dialed your number. I don’t know why. I’m so stressed out. I want to quit the paper. I don’t know what to do.

D?

Yes, sorry, hi, it’s D.

What on earth is going on? Are you OK? Calm down. What’s wrong?

I don’t know. Everything.

I was the managing editor of my college newspaper my senior year. My job was to be the other half for the editor in chief. I was the copy chief, I dealt with the writers, I rewrote stories, I did layout, I did final edits, etc., etc., etc. And I took a full courseload, worked full time and spent 30 hours a week at an internship.

Needless to say, my last year of college is a bit of a blur—and not for the normal reasons.

One of the things the editor and I did was to groom our sports editor for the following year. He’s a nice guy, mellow though, and we didn’t have a very large staff of writers… we three did the heavy lifting. It was a highly charged, ridiculously stressful year.

D was a sophomore when I was there. Painfully shy and very quiet, she didn’t have many friends and seeing as I was a senior, our paths rarely crossed. But one of my professor friends recommended her to me as a copy editor and said I should try and draw her out of her shell. It turned out that we ended up becoming friends on a trip to Ireland. The girl I went with and the girl she went with knew each other and we all ended up hanging out.

D and I stayed friends, and I convinced her, under much duress, to join the college paper. I prepared the sports editor for how to deal with her (quiet, homeschooled, doesn’t respond to conflict/anger.. etc.) and by all accounts, everything was going well.

Until this past week. There was some sort of massive row where he ended up yelling and she has given him the silent treatment for four days.

I haven’t talked to D for probably two months, while the last I spoke with him was two weeks ago…

In the span of two hours, they’ve both called me about the other and the situation.

He called because he knows that I’m really the only one who he knows who would understand how stressed out he is right now. She called because she wanted advice.

They were both so angry, though, that all they needed was a good rant.

So they ranted and I listened and I think I’m going to have to facilitate a meeting of some sort, because both are stubborn and incredibly pissed.

I thought I’d never have to deal with these problems once I left college.

Sigh.

Working at main office today. STOP. Going very well. STOP. Had Mexican food and Starbucks. STOP.

Big smiles all around. STOP.

Oy.. snagged this from her.

I’ve no idea where she comes up with these, but oh my god.

Oh, and so as not to be vague for someone, “this” is a music video of two Chinese kids singing “I want it that way” and “her” is Kate.

😛

While my parents were here, my mom and I did a little shopping. It is my aunt’s (not my real aunt, my sister’s godmother, but the only person I will ever call aunt) birthday on Sunday, and we found a cute pair of earrings, but my mom thought we’d shop a bit more… just in case.

She called me on Monday and asked me to pick them up and mail them to my aunt in Texas. I said no problem and picked up the earrings yesterday.

At the post office this morning, the wide array of envelopes and boxes had me a little discombobulated. I finally decided on a small box that you put together yourself. Just so you know, the products at the post office are not customer-friendly.

There were no instructions, just serrated lines and bendy parts. So I wrote the address on the box, all while surreptitiously trying to ascertain how it went together.

OK, OK, I thought. I bend it there, and there and there…. and does this bend? Does it come apart? I don’t think so. Hmm… maybe I should call my mom. No, wait, it’s too early. Damn. Shit, I can do this.

After many minutes of struggle and under-my-breath cursing, I heard a muffled chuckle behind me. Turning, I smiled cloyingly at the two ladies behind the counter.

“These things should come with instructions you know,” I said.

“Bring it over here honey. We’ll help you out.”

And I did. And they did. While they laughed at me.

Stupid box.

Fortunately I live in a very small town, so not only did I know one of the ladies from the local coffee shop, but not a single other soul came into the post office during my time of duress.

Which is a positive, of course. Because you don’t really want the entire town knowing how easily a put-together box flumoxes your wits.

Stupid box.

So here’s a question that I have.

When it comes to, shall we say, exaggerating the truth, do you think it’s OK if it’s about a matter inconsequential to you? But you don’t know how important it is to the other person. Or, that being said, do you think it makes it more important because you lied about it?

I have this theory that people only lie about something because it’s incredibly important to them—important in a bad way or a good way. Basically, because it’s something that they can’t get their mind off of, and therefore they think others feel the same way.

Some say that they honestly believe that it’s just not that important… but then, why lie?