I'm Speechless. I Am Without Speech.

Hello. I know I haven't updated in a while, but I've been kind of at a loss for words. I'm still at a loss for words so this post will probably be short and random. And yes, the title of this post is a line from Seinfeld.  The way the Seinfeld series ended was the most genius way to end a show ever. They brought everyone back from the bread lady to past girlfriends, to the Pakistani restaurant owner, the soup Nazi, and even the fact that the judge's last name is Vandelay. Genius. I would love to be part of a sitcom. I could probably write a sitcom myself with the amount of material my family gives me. I could go on for days about that. Just the fact that a family member of mine was recently arrested for stealing 70 shopping carts is good enough. It gives you a taste of the craziness that goes on in my life. My advisor at school today told me that I am crazy myself. I believe it. I know it, I should say. But life isn't fun if you're not a little crazy right? That's my cousin Nancy's motto anyway.

The Jokeman

If you've ever been on South Street in Philadelphia, chances are, you have come across the infamous "joke man." For the very first time in my life, I did. Just this past Thursday actually. I went to see OAR in concert and got there a tad bit early so I could get up front (which I did, of course) and as I was standing in line, I saw this big guy in all black heading toward the line. All of a sudden every one said, "Oh man, here's the joke man. Don't make eye contact." Well, of course I did. I like jokes. So on over he strolls telling me some pretty dirty one liners before he hit the closing joke of his act, "What's the best nation?" I didn't know. Ireland? (Happy St. Paddy's Day, by the way) "A donation." Well, I gave him some spare change and he went on his merry way. But I thought long and hard about this guy. Where did he come from? Why is he so infamous? How did he get in to the comedy business? I want to be in that business. Tell jokes for a living. But this guy does one act and makes a dollar. That scares me a little. It probably takes a lot of what this guy is doing to become like Ellen Degeneres. Actually, probably not at all, I doubt Ellen started out wearing all black and walking around South Street telling cheesy dirty jokes to people that made eye contact with her. Whatever, I'll give it a shot. If that doesn't work out, maybe I'll where all blue and walk down Market Street. Saturday Night Live, here I come.

My Flight Journal

I have a lot of thoughts. And so does Ellen Degeneres. I was reading one of Ellen's books while I was away on vacation. In one chapter, she was explaining how she absolutely terrified of flying and on one flight, decided she would keep an in-flight journal to monitor her thoughts on an airplane. I am not terrified of flying; I actually don't mind it...most of the time. So, I decided to keep an in-flight journal on my way home. And what a way home it was. Here is my journal from a flight from Fort Lauderdale to Avoca, PA.

There is waaaay too much pressure to get your bag in the overhead bin smoothly. Of course, I get to my seat and the overhead bin is nearly filled. I try to jam my bag up there but it does not work. At all. I am getting those "move faster i hate you right now" looks from people. Also, pausing to write this does not help. I finally get my  bag in the bin on the opposite side with much force. I have a quick connection in between so no time to run around getting my bag from somewhere behind me. Everyone on this plane hates me.
The only bad thing about the kindle is that you can't read it during take off or landing. Which I don't understand. Cell phone, I get. Messes with the transmissions or whatever. Kindle? All I want to do is read.
Long legs are a curse flying coach on a 737.
I love the Sky Mall magazine. It's my favorite part of flying. I want that secret spy pen. That would be sweet. I would feel like....well, like a secret spy.
The career survey I took in high school told me I should be a flight attendant. I could totally do that job. Maybe I should. College is blaaah sometimes. Although, it doesn't seem to be anything like Pan Am, so maybe I'll just stay at Marywood.
Whoaaaaa hitting some bumpy conditions. Turbulenceeeee. I hope me playing the numbers from LOST in the powerball recently does not impact this flight. 4 8 15 16 23 42. Although, if Sawyer is on this plane, I don't care if I'm stranded.
I don't see Sawyer anywhere. Maybe he's in first class. Fancy schmancy.
I love when they come around with the beverage cart. Especially when I'm not sitting in the aisle seat.
I cannot sleep on a plane. It is a challenge for me. I even have this nice neck pillow thing. Maybe I'll recline my seat.
Aaaaaand recline is about the same as upright.
Not for the guy in front of me though. I could probably do dental work on him.
Oh that's right, Ellen did that on a plane once. Guy had a nasty molar, needed to come out.
What's the difference if I'm in recline when we land? Like, an entire inch back is going to kill me. If we crash, I will die because my seat is reclined. That's ridiculous. I still can't sleep.
Ooooo a menu I wonder what kind of  food I can order. Snacks. A fruit and cheese platter? I'm a little worried about that. Egg and turkey bacon sandwich. I am even more worried about that. Ooo yogurt parfait. A buffalo chicken wrap? I'm not so sure I would order meat or eggs on a plane. I don't know why. I guess I just don't trust high altitudes. And why is there grill marks on these pictures? I highly doubt there is an open flame grill on the plane. Maybe it's in the cockpit. They also have a southwest chicken salad. Probably like a piece of lettuce and a piece of chicken with grill marks on it. And then dressing packets, which you will open and dressing will fly everywhere, like your neighbor's lap. Maybe that's just my experience.
Oh, I have to put my seat in the upright position for landing.
And turn off my Kindle. My book was just getting good. If only I could read it while we're landing, I would be more satisfied.
Landed. Why is it taking so long to open the door? I do not have much time and I hate the Philly airport.
Gotta go all the way to F? What the F is this?
Shuttle bus, hello.
F13. That's not a good sign. I hope 13 combined with the numbers from LOST does not kill me tonight. I just want to get home and sleep in my own bed.
On the plane.
There's pretty much no one on this plane.
Talking to a nice kid named Matt. He's coming from Fort Meyers. I like finding out where everyone's coming from. There are so many people and places in this world. I can't think about it any more, my head hurts.
If this isn't a bumpy ride, I don't know what is. I have never felt sick on a plane. I do not like this.
Landing, oh thank God.
Whoaaa I feel like I'm on a roller coaster. It is very windy.
I cannot see the ground. I'm a little worried.
Oh wait, lights!
Oh no. Fog or clouds, I can't tell. I can't see the ground.
We are not landing?! What is this? This is not happening.
aaand we're turning around.
My Noni has told me about this before. I didn't think it would ever happen to me.
What am I supposed to do now?
No one else on this plane is too happy.
All the waaay back to Philly. jalkjfsaskjdfaeuisjdfkasd
Well, it's not very windy here.
Hey, the lady never came around with the beverage cart. Do they not do that on flights after 10PM?
Ok, getting off the plane. Now what? I don't exactly feel like sleeping in the airport.
Ohhh two other flights turned around. Don't they communicate? "Hey, we had to turn around, don't fly to Avoca." Very simple.
aaand i have to sleep in the airport.
1:20PM tomorrow for the next flight? I don't think so.
You can't even sleep on these benches, there are arm rests in the way.
I realize now that this is an off-flight journal.  But this has never happened to me before.
Maybe my mom will come get me. She probably wouldn't like the idea of me sleeping in an airport with a bunch of strangers.
Or she will tell me to sleep in the airport. Okay.
I like bonding with my fellow stranded flight mates. Maybe we could all get a ride back home.
I have a laptop, I have become the goddess of the group. Looking for rental car services.
Why is no one open?! It's only midnight. I wonder how much a cab would cost.
aaaand I'm calling a limo service.
Their drivers are all tied up at the moment....on a Thursday....at midnight....this seems odd.
Another limo service. As soon as I told the guy where I wanted to go there was a long pause. And then he hung up. I am not joking when I say I want to go to Scranton.
ha my cousin, Lindsay is on the phone with a cab service. Apparently, they don't believe her either.
AH HERTZ. My new favorite rental car place.
I am renting a car with a bunch of people I met ten minutes ago. This seems odd.
Oh well, get me home.
This walk through the airport is rough. Just what I want to do at 2AM. Exercise. It's hard to write and walk too.
Got my rental car woooo.
Aaaand we are going the wrong way. Hello Jersey.
Aaaand now we are going the right way and there is an accident on I-76 West.
Does not look good.
This is the story of my life.
I'm enjoying how I am talking to the people in this car like I've known them for years.
We are best friends.
Why do these things happen to me?
What is my life?
I would keep a flight journal when this happens. It is much longer than I thought it was going to be.
I'm home....or well, at my Noni's. She's awake. Ready for church. Guess I should go to bed. Good night....or morning.

The Winners of the World

I was in Wal Mart late one night with my Aunt. It was after 11, when Wal Mart turns into Mexico where no one speaks English and everyone's trying to sell you drugs. Why was I there? I have no idea, but I was. I was standing in the checkout line, minding my own business. There was a lady in the line diagonal to me with this ridiculous hat on. I did not question it, seeing as it was after 11 and anything is possible after 11PM in a Wal Mart.  The hat was the least of the ridiculousness of that night.
So, there I am, watching the cashier scan my items when I noticed the cashier checking out the lady with the ridiculous hat acting funny. She was pointing to ridiculous hat lady (RHL)'s forehead and saying something. So, being the nosy person I am, I shimmied closer to hear what was going on.
"Ma'am, you have something running down your forehead."
"No, no, no." RHL said in her weird Indian/Jamaican/Spanish accent. She was waving her hands frantically.
"Ma'am, it looks like your bleeding."
"NO NO NO no speak English." The cashier pointed to RHL's forehead and said it again, "Ma'am, you have something running down your forehead!" The cashier called a security guard over and at this point, RHL had gathered an audience. If you had walked in Wal Mart, you would've thought there was a street performer at Register 14 with all the people crowded around it in a circle.
You could tell all RHL wanted to do was pay for her flashlight and leave. She did not have time for this security stuff.
The security guy came over and asked the woman to remove her hat. RHL held on to her hat for dear life and pulled it down over her face.
"Ma'am, you're going to have to remove your hat."
RHL lady frantically shook her head shouting, "NO NO NO NO NO"
The security guy took her arms and she resisted at first, but then lowered them. He removed her ridiculous hat to reveal a roast. Yes, like...meat. The blood from the roast was dripping down her forehead.
Why am I always present when things like this happen?
You can't make this stuff up.
Why was she buying a flash light? Why wouldn't she just stuff that in her hat too?
This is what happens in Wal Mart after 11.
These are the winners of the world.

Live from New York, It's Saturdaaay Niiightt!

My ultimate goal in life is to be on Saturday Night Live. I enjoy making people laugh, even if it is at my own expense. I realized that in second grade. I had a nice singing solo in the school play, but on that day, at recess, I literally ran into a pole and chipped my two front teeth. When I went to the nurse, she said, “So, you tripped and fell into the pole,” like she didn’t believe someone would actually run into a pole and chip, not one, but TWO teeth on the day of the school play. I knew when I didn’t feel embarrassed and rather got a laugh out of this situation that I could be cut out for a life in comedy.

I was inspired to post this after watching Betty White's Birthday Bash on NBC. She is one of the great comediennes of our time and I greatly respect her. Happy 90th Birthday, Betty White.

Waffles, Man.

Ya ever think about waffles? I mean, I'm sure you do right before you eat them or when you see them on the menu at Denny's, but have you ever really thought about them? Like, who decided to take pancakes and put square indentations in them? Why? Why is this necessary? You need to buy a whole other device just to make waffles and that device is only used when making waffles. Talk about expensive for one food item. And then you have to store the waffle iron when you're not using it, which is most of the time, unless your house is the Waffle House. And those silly square indentations. Like Mitch Hedberg has said, they are like traps for syrup. And then the butter. What a problem. It only gets into some of the squares. And then one or two of the squares are LOADED with butter and some of them have none. But it's impossible to evenly distribute the butter unless you really took your time. And who wants to take their time buttering a waffle? I just want to eat it. They are so delicious. But yet, so complicated. I love waffles, man, don't get me wrong. They are just weird to think about. It's a delicious dilemma.

Cops and Robbers

In the last few days, there has been a spree of robberies in Clarks Summit. Yes, that's right, Clarks Summit.  He/She/They have attacked Nikki's Hoagies, Dino and Francesco's, and stole a rifle from Fiorillo's Pizza. Yes, a rifle. I don't know either. But anyway, it got me thinking of an old family story. When my Noni worked at IGA, someone tried to rob the cash register she was working. This story never gets old. She was working the night shift when someone came up and demanded the money in the cash register. Of course, my Noni would never give in to these ridiculous demands. So, the man punched her in the nose. Why am I telling you this? I have no idea. It really has no purpose, other than, my Noni can take a punch in the nose, literally.