You say tomato, I say....PICKLES!

I'm beginning to notice lately that I'm not like the others. You know...like normal blogging-folk. But, granted, I'm not your normal 24 year old. Sometimes I wonder if this detracts from readers who are seeking the usual fare: those who share their American Idol faves, their daily dieting woes, or pics of cool shoes they wish they had. Some write about their political opinions, or share interesting facts about technology. Or cupcakes.

I don't watch enough TV. I like eating. And I hate politics. I'm pretty meh about cupcakes. (But I do love pickles.)

I mostly write about cleaning out drains. And whine. And assume that people enjoy learning about the not-so-crazy escapades of my weekend.

At first I worried about this......Ok, I still worry about this. But I can't help that I don't easily fit into a mold. It's like trying to stick a star through a square. Too many pointy parts.

Here are some topics that seem to set me apart from the usual blogging fare:

∆ Like, Totally My Fave Things <3
My childhood consisted of me teetering between being a tomboy and a girlie-girl. Well, let me rephrase that....between wanting to be a tomboy, but actually being a girl. In the end, I realized that me not liking normal girlie things was just the simple fact that I was a little bit odd. Unique, is what I prefer to call it. (But we don't know this word when we're 6.)

Here are a list of my all-time favorite things, from childhood to present, to give you an idea of the inner turmoil I endured between normality and oddity, and why I might not be an average 20-something blogger...

Fave Toys

• Barbies & Mutant Ninja Turtles
• Polly Pockets & Micro Machines
• Disney Play Peoples, and putting live ants into potentially dangerous situations
  

Fave Movies

• I was obsessed with Star Wars....(I had a crush on Luke Skywalker. I wished I was Princess Leia. I had a subscription to Star Wars Insider. You can kiss my ass.)
• I was obsessed with The Little Mermaid (there was a giant Ariel painted on my wall. Top that.)

Fave Books

• "The Babysitter's Club" & Chuck Palahniuk
• "The Boxcar Children" & JD Salinger
• A book featuring different shaped milk splats. For reals.

Fave Activity

• Softball.....though I was deathly afraid of the ball.
• Not bike riding.....didn't learn that till I was 13.
• Playing house.....though for some reason I was always the dad.

Fave Food

• Bacon (no more than 15 pieces)
  
• Pickles (in a bowl)
• Whipped Cream (also in a bowl, eaten after pickles)
  

My god, no wonder I turned out the way I did. (And thus, the blog audience dwindles...)

∆ Fashion Smashion
I was not always into what I wore; my mother chose my clothes up until elementary school. I had some faves:

• Black & White patterned culottes (short skirt with black spandex shorts underneath - so early 90s!)
• Yellow plaid wool-looking shirt (I wore this every freaking day in 5th grade. The only time I will ever wear a plaid shirt, again, due to the recent mass influx of plaid wearing hipsters.)
• Culotte Dress (look to the right...stripes AND polka dots!)

When I got to middle school, I realized that I could buy my own clothes. My idea of rebellion was buying hordes of G+G apparel, such as a platinum silver t-shirt that said "What If?" in chunky lettering. (It's like "As If?," only more existential!) Looking back, I suppose that in itself was my punishment.

In high school, the mantra was always "I must I must I must increase my bust." I hadn't really grown them yet. Too bad my face hadn't grown in yet either. But I did have lots of leg. To hell with the index finger rule!

It wasn't until college that I began to realize the importance of wearing something that not only made you feel good, but didn't try to compensate for anything. (Here in NY, everyone looks fabulous. You don't want to fall behind, or make apparent the fact that you're from New Jersey.) But here's where I probably differ from the status quo folks...

Don't get me wrong, I love shopping. I am impulsive, and addicted to buying things that will fill the gaping emptiness inside my soul; at least temporarily. However, I'm not one to pounce on any new trend that the fashion industry tries to shove down my throat. Inspiration? Yes. Let me be inspired to buy something cheaper and more interesting than your boring, grey ensemble and the purse that looks like a metallic garbage bag. Let's face it, you're talking about a girl who wears lederhosen with blue, white and black striped stockings, which make my legs look like poisonous Amazonian snakes. I've got my own set of fashion rules.

Yo, look me in the eye when I'm talkin' to you.

1. Got a fancy-shmancy gathering? Finally nice outside? Need to dress to impress? No LBDs (Little Black Dresses) here. I always go with the LN²: "LittleNeonNumber".
2. Brighter is better.
3. No single article of my clothing is more than $25 (with the exception of shoes and dresses, which should be under $50.) If I don't spend that much on what I feed myself, then why the hell should I clothe myself in that kinda dough?
4. You're only young once. Don't dress boring; there's tons of time to do that when you're old.
   
5. Take advantage of thrifting.
6. 
   

Fashion is a great way to be creative and be yourself. Not rape your wallet and turn you into an UGGs-wearing poster girl for a nation of fashion zombies.

Rant ended. (This is the last time I blog about fashion. I promise.)

∆ Pop Culture
I have a confession to make: I read Perez Hilton. I too am a sucker for cheap gossip about other people fucking up their lives. Yet, I think this is just a natural human tendency. Sort of like passing the car accident on the turnpike. You just can't look away.

However, I don't often blog about pop culture. First of all, there are PLENTY of people doing that already. (Just google "Gaga"...I doubt you'll find any drooling babies.) I'm sure if you wanted to read those sorts of things, you would go to say, Mr. Hilton, instead of me. (Perhaps, most of you do, and right now I'm talking to absolutely no audience whatsoever.)

I will say this: I've met Perez. He lived in a pig sty and almost slept through our JLo interview. And to top it off, he hardly acknowledged the crew. So much for being outspoken.

If you ever meet me, I guarantee to talk your damn ears off.

It's Been Awhile.....(oh yeah, and so my teeth...)

I guess there's no other real excuse for writing in this thing, other than the fact that I was:
a.) lazy
b.) busy
c.) unnerved
...whichever one of those you'd like to believe....(perhaps all of the above-it's feasible.)

I can't tell you how many times I tried writing in this thing, then wound up spending hours choosing a better design template to make it look better, only to decide after all that trouble that what I was hoping to write wasn't so great anyway (this being the end-all of most writers I suppose.)

But anywho, as you can see, I've finally broken through and decided to take a chance with this new "blog," since actually writing with a pen has become such a daunting and sacred act that can no longer be bothered by my silly thoughts. And as the tooth above illustrates, there's always a crack up in the regimented population line, so I might as well embrace the fact that it may very well be me.

Speaking of teeth, I just lost four. Finally got my wisdom tooth surgery out of the way, and those annoying impactors out of the way, too. I was waiting to get those darned things out all December, but then I was befallen with three weeks of sinusitis, missed the Stromberg Family Xmas Party and the Launch Bowling Event, traveled to Ohio for the holidays, and then went back to NJ to see how things have been rapidly changing without me ever knowing what hit me. All in that order.

I have never had surgery before. I was a little worried going in since I chose to go under and wasn't sure that would be like. Or if I would die. I had nothing to eat for the 24 hours before then since I have no knowledge of surgery prep, except for the small chance that if you DID happen to eat beforehand you can choke to death on your own vomit. Food wasn't worth the risk.

Actually I am unable to eat anything resembling a balanced diet for another week until I heal. Never have I craved donuts and dreamed of cheeseburgers with such fervor. There are gaping holes in my mouth and jaw pain that can only be cured by copious amounts of narcotics.

Basically, if you look at it subjectively, I spent the last five days getting high at home by myself. A Vicodin every 6 hours kept me pretty much conked out most of the afternoon and nights, with some random groggy moments in which I would wake up and feel my way to the kitchen for a nice spoonful of Gerber Banana Baby Food.

The dreams I had while intoxicated were probably the most lucid and epic in awhile. I normally have a habit of dreaming crazily, but the new job and the long hours tend to limit by memory. But oh did I remember these. The strangest thing of all being that they seemed to carry a similar theme of futuristic 80's films. I was convinced at the time (since it's easy to assume things are true while high) that these were films that did in fact exist in reality. Maybe someone could shed some light on my belief:

"Student Films"
Ever have a dream that at the time seems like a great idea for a movie, and then on second though hours later you realize how stupid that idea was? Well, this is one of those instances.

The dream started with me having one of the nostalgic, super-8-like moments of remembering an instance in your childhood. I was riding a bike and mom was playing with me outside. We were racing through a forest of tall trees, and as they were going by I could see my mom slicing through the air with a sharp object as if the air itself were made of plastic panes.

It was such a happy moment, and at the time seemed to make so much sense and deliver so much emotion, that the next scene seemed brilliant in juxtaposition: towards the end of the film, in a moment of sadness, I (or the character) would be walking through this forest in the rain, thwacking against the panes of plastic morosely.

It seemed so poignant at the time I dreamt it, and I was convinced that I should make it into an actual film; upon closer examination, I have no idea what the hell I was thinking.

"80's Future Montage"
These dreams literally shot out one after another from the neurons going vicodin-crazy in my brain, so bear with me.

I've just finished dreaming of being in an all-girl kick-ball/hip-hop dancing league when I am transported to a space-age looking hallway. I feel myself forced to walk towards another doorway, where there is a large hangar on the ground open to space, and a robot that shoots at me. I run back the other way, only to be shot dead. But I'm not dead. Another one of my "Rollie-Pollie-Ollie"-esque (or Betty Spaghetti for the older folk) companions steps on me and I am now a part of her body.

We walk into another world which seems like a large conveyor belt enclosed in a giant plastic bubble with other Playskool looking robots going 'round. Then they start mouthing "That's What She Said," only to find that this enables them to mutate and multiply. Suddenly, a light bulb goes on in my sleeping brain and I have realized that this is related to a popular science fiction movie. The DVD screen pops on in front of me and lists three popular 80s future classics, all of which I can't remember now.

Then I am in another world where cars from the 50s float above me in a picturesque setting. There is a small earthquake and a gale force wind, and the cars start to coagulate like the insides of a lava lamp. A Michael J. Fox looking kid meets a genetically engineered girl in pink metal, and they go off together for an adventure. They approach what seems to be a race track, where there is already a small, blue hollow tunnel running its length for a "male" to enter and take a ride. The girl robot twists and pulls the metal piping and makes another pink one for her, and they both enter on their backs as if on a water ride. When they are "launched," there is a plethora of lights and then a black background where the history of the world begins to play in neon before their eyes. I got to the part where they explain who the Egyptian god "Ra" was, and figured I could watch this movie later.

Snap to another dream in which a man impregnates a girl by giving her a necklace resembling a blossom. It turned into an apocalyptic drama with pastry sweets and imagery that looked straight out of a dirty watercolor comic.

* * *

That's as far as I'll go with these descriptions; the more I remember, the less sense it makes, even to me. But you get the idea.

So, while the pain of my teeth (or lack thereof) has subsided, I am still awaiting a normal diet, and thus a normal lifestyle once again. I really wanted some Spaghettios tonight, but every place I went had Chef Boyardee. I'm sorry, but that stuff is just gross. I know I'm angering my Italian ancestors by pledging allegiance to Franco American, but there is no other canned meatball worthy of my praise.

And so, perhaps this explains some of what has been happening over the last month or two. I am hoping that this will make post more often, as this post was hella long and will most likely not be read thoroughly. If you have gotten this far, I commend you.

Please, come again.

.....that's what she said.