Just stop it

Has anyone else noticed that couples have started matching again?

I mean, I remember the 80's. Having your sig fig wear the same androgynous clothing was "a thing" back then. But the thing is, stop it.

What about when the dude looks more fem in the outfit then the chick does? 

I was at the mall last weekend and saw three matching couples -- same shirt, same pants, same shoes. Stop it.

Additionally, most of you know that I am scared of Octopuses. However, I am also scared of teeth and nails. 

I am scared of teeth and nails because I think they are gross. Teeth more so than nails, but some people ruin nails for everyone. Recently I saw this.

I've met this guy. He is real and is in relation to my social circle. And I had no idea that these atrocities lay right below the surface of his shoes. I ask you to ponder this: What else are people hiding? 

Check these guys out.

Fuck. What happened to them during their childhoods? That shit is for real. They are all, "I'm going to be Halloween. EVERY DAMN DAY."

AND

Once upon a time, my sister mailed me her tooth. Like, through the US postal system. About a year ago, her tooth rotted and fell out while I was talking to her on the phone. I was horrified that something like this could even happen to someone who wasn't illegally making moonshine in deep Appalachia, but there it was: my own sister having a redneck tooth calamity.

The conversation went something like this:

Me: ...yeah, I made a really great dinner last night. Some folks came over and it was --

Sis: Shit!!

Me: What?! What just happened?

Sis: Uhh, I was eating an apple and all of a sudden I bit down on something hard. It's my tooth.

Me: Shut the fuck up. Your tooth just came out?

Sis: It has been hurting lately,  I'm not surprised.

Me: You're not surprised? You are a grown ass adult. It is completely unacceptable for you to be losing teeth. 

Sis: Oh my god, it smells so bad. Definitely rotten.

Me: What is wrong with you? Why are your teeth so terrible?

Sis: Genetics.

Me: We have the same genetics. My teeth are fine.

Sis: Just wait.

Me: Wait for what? I'm 30 years old and I've never even had a cavity.

Sis: I don't know what to say to you. My children are screaming. I have to go.

Me: Fine.

Sis: Fine.

A week later I got a package of tooth in the mail. Absolutely unacceptable.

Thanks a lot Josh

I hate this song. It's called "If I could have a beer with Jesus." What a dumb name.





It's like, Jesus didn't drink beer. If he drank anything, it would have been wine. Obvi.

Also, does this guy have a black eye under his baseball hat??!!! I think so. Bar fight, I guarantee it. Standard redneck behavior.

I mean seriously, this is the kind of song that gives country music a bad rep. I actually kind of like country music (a guilty-ish pleasure) - I even went to the country music hall of fame. It was okay. I found out some things about pop country culture whilst in Nashville. Did you know that country music fans think it's awesome to wear fishhooks in the bills of their baseball caps? I noticed it ever'where.

like this.

Also, they get fight-y drunk when they drink whiskey (the rednecks). It scares me. Too many country fanatics in one place is fairly terrifying. They are unpredictable. You never know who they might punch in the face next. Point in case: the terrible video I posted above. That guy is borderline famous and even he got hit.

Additional  groupings that make me uncomfortable due to their unpredictable nature: birds up close, people on hallucinogenics, the elderly.

On a not completely unrelated note, one time in 2008 I legit tried to be this for Halloween:

I'm ashamed to say that the Duck Dynasty crew followed through better than my crew did with this concept. We only had three people in our flag and the guy in the middle didn't show up. So me and the other end of the flag had to stuff old rags into the striped jumpsuit that we had painted for Josh (the guy who didn't show up) and we had to carry it around between us all night and it was heavy. Also it didn't "billow" correctly like a flag is supposed to do in the wind. Which was the whole point of the costume. Thanks a lot Josh. You kind of ruined Halloween for me. Forever.

Call Me Maybe

Communication, or the lack thereof, plays a vital role in my daily mishaps here in Turkey. It’s nice to know that whomever I may be talking with will readily try to interpret my pantomimes/ exaggerated gestures – and if that does not work out they will quickly run to find the best English speaker to help them riddle out what the hell I want. But sometimes we (the Turkish stranger and I) have to figure out things the hard way.

Dealing with my cell phone is easily the most challenging thing that I've had to face in Turkey. I can’t decide if I’m just really "bad at cell phones" (absoLUTELY possible), or if this particular situation is exceptional. Nothing about my phone makes sense – not the 13 random texts I receive in Turkish each day, not the miniature screen that is impossible to type upon, not the fact that my phone chooses to call half a dozen random people each and every day without my permission and certainly not the fact that ofttimes it won’t allow me to call and text the folks that I do want to connect with.

I go to Turkcell a couple of times a week to discuss my problems with the employees that speak no English. I bring in handwritten notes (in Turkish) to explain my various situations, because I function in this country as if I were a four year old child. And they respond to me, in like, with handwritten maps explaining their side of the situation.

Here’s an example of what I received the last time I was in:

 So, like, yeah, we don’t get each other. That’s cool. I think there are a lot of things that are just different around here. It’s ok, I usually just shrug it off and whisper quietly to myself, “wtf Turkey.”

I found this posted on a tree at my school last week. 

I like the message. Kicking should not be tolerated on campus. But do you know what I like even more? I believe the child in the PSA pictured above has removed his foot and turned it into a semi-automatic weapon. It also appears that the assaulter has previously removed both of the feet of the assaulted. And YET the victim is still smiling. That's how it is around here folks. People are happy. EVEN in stressful situations. In the very least they will put on a good face.

So what is the point of all of this?? Well, recently I realized something fairly amazing -- each and every morning that I wake up here in Izmir, I feel grateful. I am so grateful to live in a place where the result of my discomfort regularly turns into laughter. I am surrounded by people who want to help me -- which empowers me to try more new things. I am constantly handed opportunities to see things in a different light in this unprecedented stage of my life. 

And you know what? It makes me really happy.

So happy.

flavors of mannequin

I haven’t quite figured out the mannequins here in Turkey. It's possible that Turkish people don't think that their mannequins are weird -- which would be weird. But there is a big part of me that believes that Turkish distributors know exactly what they are doing. They understand that their dummies will get more attention if it appears that they are part of an underground methamphetamine ring. I don’t know much, but I DO know that Turks have a fairly good sense of humor. And everyone probably agrees that a plastic model that appears to have been beat up by it's pimp is funny. It just is.

It kind of looks like she is wearing a trendy wrist band.
But don't be fooled. It's packaging tape so that she doesn't lose a hand.

                                                

They, like, glued on chest hair. I'm thinking pirate.

                                               

Bag of baby heads. Whatevs.

Child gang touting ill-fitting athletic wear for adults

Obviously you will be successful enough to own a tuxedo at age seven if you have that kind of a mullet.

Mullets help you to win at life.

My Favorite.

 

Oh Turkey. I love your little details.

drinking bags of chocolate chips

Lately I have been coming home from work each day and drinking bags of chocolate chips. What I do is this: I tip the bag directly into my mouth and then chew until the pieces are just small enough to swallow. I do this over and over again. I have become a chocolate beast. (That’s a real thing.)

This lady is a chocolate beast too. It's a pretty gross club.

Throughout this process of over consumption I have actually built up a tolerance to chocolate. (ps: Who knew that could happen? Not I.) After awhile, the chocolate chips alone ceased to satisfy my chocolate need. As a result, I began shopping the candy bar sales racks at the drug store. Behaving like this made me feel as if I were a crack addict. (Which is also a real thing, but I am not actually addicted to crack. Just sugar. Which kind of acts like crack in my life. A crack substitute, if you will.) But I wasn’t gaining weight and when I privately admitted my behavior to some of my close confidantes they laughed at me. Which made me feel like I was making ok choices since it was funny.

But then last week I hit an all time low. I really felt that I needed an extra boost of chocolate endorphins and so instead of my typical sugar rampage I decided to gorge myself on an entire 80% cocoa chocolate bar in one sitting instead. (In my mind this was ok because really dark chocolate is healthful.) But I found out shortly thereafter that this type of behavior will make one violently ill. (Becoming violently ill made me feel un-healthful.) It was then that I realized that I have a problem.

As it turns out, it’s possible that I have more than one problem.

I’m moving away soon and so I don’t care about stuff as much anymore. Like going to work or having standards, that kind of stuff.

The men that I have been recently attracted to my friends have been referencing as “mistake # 1” or “mistake # 2” etc. I’ve been falling asleep in public. I’ve been shopping at Plato’s Closet (which is an establishment that targets 22 year old prostitutes, if you don’t already know.) I’ve been opting out of going to the gym to drink mimosas instead. A few days ago I forgot to get up. (And by “get up” I mean out of bed. But don’t worry, eventually I left the house and picked up the first movie title that seemed attractive to me – Seven Psychopaths – as well as a whoopee pie. They were both good.)

My point is this: drinking chocolate chips has been a gateway drug to distasteful college behavior. It’s not just marijuana anymore, friends.

Anyway, I wanted to admit to everyone that I understand my life is degenerating into a series of bad choices. But I do plan to get better at being a grown up. Soon.  

God Bless America...A place where so many things exist together

I like this so much. Nutrish. I say it in a small voice.

This is scary and was found in a public restroom. I hate it for it's truth.

The worst show on television. It is upsetting just to flip past. This program showcases the people I dislike most in my country. I was going to embed a video of a really bad AFV montage but then I decided to not litter my blog. I just hit it's dislike button on youtube instead. A small stand, but a stand nonetheless.

Hi friends

I think I would love these people. They are glorious. They are not my real friends, I just want them to be. I'm sad to report that I have made no new friends in the recent past, regardless of any and all efforts on my part. 

On a more upbeat note, I have become personal with a really large insect that has moved into my house. He actually lives on my porch, but I'm throwing semantics to the wayside.

Yes, he is cuddled up on a lamppost right outside my front door and he is frighteningly large. I'd classify him as "prehistorically proportional." I think of him as my bodyguard/bouncer. He sleeps at his post every night. 

Nothing about the situation makes any sense whatsoever.

I named him Godzilla. 

I think he was attracted to the ladies that hang out underneath my lamppost. 

Or perhaps he was lured over by the fresh scent of plastic flowers. Whatever the case may be, I'm glad he is here now.