What's wrong with me? Let's start here.

I have some quirks. We all do, I know but even I think some of mine are weird. Like my thing with water. Water has places that it belongs and places it doesn't and if water is somewhere it shouldn't be, it makes me twitchy. Not kidding. I can't deal with being wet. As soon as I get out of the shower I dry off every inch of myself, including between my fingers. If I wash my hands, I dry them completely. I love those super strength blow dry things in restrooms and I will be the asshole who stands there for a full minute until her hands are totally dry. Don't get me wrong, I have no issue while I'm actually in the shower, and I totally love swimming but when I'm done, it's over, I need to be dry. Not mostly dry, not air dry, Dry. My husband on the other hand only uses a towel so as not to mentally scar the other members of his family. It is used purely as a cover up, never to dry. He prefers to "air dry" (lazy) and even puts on clothes while he still has water droplets on him! Now that just sends me into a tailspin. I get goosebumps even thinking about it and he just shrugs and says "Eh, they'll dry." ACK! Dry it now! I have been known to take a towel and dry his hair so vigorously that he claims I'm going to break his neck. I say, It needs to be done. Because when he doesn't dry himself, he inevitably comes up and tries to hug me, or some other such nonsense, and gets me wet! Not. Cool. He also doesn't always dry his hands after he washes them. He fails to see this as an issue. My guess is he also fails to see the puddles of water he leaves in his wake. Which is why he leaves them for me to clean up. As I walk through the kitchen. In my socks. Wet socks may just be the bane of my existence. Second only to wet jeans. Or slightly damp jeans. Which my husband often hands me out of the dryer. After which follows a conversation like this:

Me: These are wet.
Him: They're dry; they just came out of the dryer.
Me: They're wet.
Him: They're not wet I just touched them.
Me: They're wet.
Him: They might be a little damp, just put them on they'll be dry in ten minutes.

And then my head explodes from the epic restraint I've showed by not strangling him to death.

And you know what else? Wet counters. I can't deal with seeing wet counters. Public restrooms drive me bonkers. How the hell does the counter get so wet? Did somebody try to wash their cat in there? I have never in my life washed my hands so viciously that I had to wipe down the bathroom*. Am I just doing it wrong? I don't know but I have to fight the urge to wipe down the counters there and at home the counters always get dried after I wipe them down. But I try to be kinda green so if they're only a little wet I fan them. And that is how I know I'm crazy. Because rather than walk away and let them air dry? I Fan. My. Counters. Wet jeans I can justify but there's just no way to talk through waving at your counters.


*That reminds me of a story from when I waitressed at The Pour House in Boston, remind me I'll tell you about it.

A Whole Lot of Nothing

Is rad. Go visit her. She's also awesome in 140 characters or less. Angie saved my butt today and here's why. I am forgetful. And not in a little sort of way, in a BIG sort of way. I forget what I'm doing, as I'm doing it, about 15 times a day. Zoning out? Oh yeah. I can't tell you what happened five minutes ago because although I was there, I wasn't there. I guess it runs in the family, we all end up calling each other by different names and you're lucky if my uncle remembers your age within ten years. He also once introduced his wife as his cousin. I'm that sort of space shot, except I'm like that all the time. This behavior, when combined with blogging, is bad. I'm sure that yesterday I had an awesome blog topic. It was epic you guys, seriously. But I didn't write it down and I didn't go write the post so it's lost. Probably forever. The world is worse off. But this is where A Whole Lot of Nothing comes in. She took a dare from Aunt Becky (mommywantsvodka) and opened her whore mouth. Then she told me to do the same. So I am. Because Angie told me to.and also because it gets me off the hook for another day or so.

1) Do you like sprinkles on your ice cream?
Jimmies. Yes I like Jimmies on my Ice Cream. Rainbow are prettier but chocolate ones are better.

2) If you had to choose one word to banish from the English language, what would it be and why?
Any word for the female anatomy. Seriously, they're all filthy and awkward. Can't we have something short and sweet like Dick?

3) If you were a flavor, what would it be?
Honestly, probably something not very tasty. Actually trying to picture myself as a flavor is kind of weirding me out. I'm pretty sure I'm overthinking it.

4) What’s the most pointless annoying chore you can think of that you do on a daily/weekly basis?
Folding clothes. I'd rather iron them all before I wear them than waste all the time it takes to fold.

5) Of all the nicknames I’ve ever had in my life, Aunt Becky is the most widely known and probably my favorite. What’s your favorite nickname? (for yourself)
I actually like Melissa better than any of my nicknames. It's prettier than the others.

6) You're stuck on a desert island with the collective works of 5 (and only five) musical artists for the rest of your life. Who are they?
U2
Ingrid Michaelson
The Beatles
Chris Isaak
Lily Allen

That was painfully hard. I'd also want Jay Z, Ja Rule, Brad Paisley and a million other artists. I listen to pretty much every genre there is and love it all. :/

7) Everything is better with bacon. True or false?
It goes against everything in my nature to say false but I'm sure there are somethings that are the exception to the always better with bacon rule.

8 ) If I could go back in time and tell Young Aunt Becky one thing, it would be that out of chaos, order emerge. Also: tutus go with everything. What would you tell young self? DO YOUR HOMEWORK! And shut your mouth and walk away when you get angry, it only gets you in trouble if you don't. Actually I could still use a lot of work on that last one.

This is your brain on turkey... (and stuffing, and potatoes and pie. LOTS of pie.)

Ladies and Gentlemen, Hobos and Tramps
Crossed eyed Mosquitos and Bow-Legged Ants
The Show is Free, Please pay at the door.
Pull up a seat and sit on the floor.
I come before you to stand behind you,
At this round table with four square corners,
To tell you something I know nothing about.

One fine day in the middle of the night,
Two dead boys got up to fight,
Back to back they faced one another,
Pulled out their guns and shot each other.
If you don't believe my lie, it's true.
Ask the blind man over there- He sees everything.



I'd say this is a well thought out post to give you a little giggle on the monday after a long holiday weekend but I'd be lying.

In other words. I don't have enough brain power to come up with anything of my own. So instead I've graced you with the ridiculous tale of Two Dead Boys that my Husband's family likes to tell. The copious amounts of food that I've ingested since Thanksgiving has created a(nother) layer of fat around my brain which valid thoughts cannot get through. So I'll leave you with one more boy, this one very much alive and very amused. Turns out that shaking out fabric can be added to the list of things that can amuse small children. Why do we buy kids toys again? Anyway, try not to crack a smile during this video, I dare you. I'm not sure it's possible.

Baby Laughing from Melissa Bonnice on Vimeo.

Survey Says- Stripper

I'm beginning to think I've chosen the wrong career. For one, teaching is a lot of work. I'm not really big on a lot of work. I'd much rather be paid lots of money to do, well, nothing really. Secondly, I really really love high heels. And I mean high heels. All of these...




are on my Amazon wish list and they don't even brush the tip of the iceberg. All of these have me drooling over my keyboard. Did you notice the search terms there? Yeah "Bordello Shoes." Don't worry it's a line of shoes, I don't actually specifically search for hooker shoes, they just happen to be what comes up when I find something I like. Another thing that should probably have me looking elsewhere for shoes? The other people who buy these tend to be...different. Which is fine but it tells you something. Fairly often the reviews are made by men. And not "I bought these for my wife" men. Cross dressing men. NEWSFLASH Oh my god you guys I wan't kidding when I said the other people who buys these shoes are different. I was looking for a review I saw last night to show you guys when I came across this little gem:

"My slaves love it when I pace in front of them with these on. The best part is that they're easy to clean - if you know what I mean."

WHO WRITES THAT?! And yet I still love the shoes. I'll admit it, they're stripper, and apparently Dominatrix, shoes, but at least they aren't clear and have goldfish in them or something okay?
But the biggest reason I should be a stripper, the reason that would send me home with thousands every night?

Creepers dig me.

Not joke, I attract the craziest guys out there. Also? Old guys. I was at the deli the other day and the guy who was getting my cheese gave me the package and a slice for me and then said "Goodbye hun, see you tomorrow morning!" in a low sort of voice and winked. My husband was confused. I was too. I don't even know what that means, but it was strange. Come to think of it, I probably shouldn't have eaten that piece of cheese either. but my ability to say no to even the sketchiest of food is a whole 'nother blog in itself. i also didn't share the cheese with my husband despite his protests. It felt too much like betraying my elderly deli man.

So I just need to lose a shit tonfew pounds and work on losing the few scruples I have left and I'll be golden. Seriously, what do you guys think of the name? Golden.... Rod? Or Destiny Diamond? Deysi Lexus Candy Cherry Roxy? Or maybe I can work a few places and have different names. I even have the Shoes picked out already.




P.S. If I go with Golden I'm totally wearing these.

♫ I had Christmas down in Af-rica!

I have another confession to make.
I've listened to Christmas Carols already. And I liked it.

I know it's not even Thanksgiving yet and yada yada yada but I couldn't help myself. There's a station here in Boston that I have in my presets that starts playing them November 1st. I'll say this though, I have only listened sparingly. I can't bring myself to go full on Christmas before Thanksgiving but I learned the hard way last year that being a scrooge about when is and isn't appropriate to be in the Christmas Spirit kind of ruined the holidays for me. I became a full on Christmas Nazi. Outrage at the Carols on the radio. Indignation at the premature arrival of Santa and decorations at the mall. Full on refusal to acknowledge Christmas until December 1st. Any you know what happened? I never got into the spirit at all. I never really got excited and the Holidays were entirely anti-climactic. Which was extremely disappointing because I love this time of year.

And now the more I think about it, I fail to see where my horror stemmed from last year. Why spend the time and emotions trying to downplay christmas and fit it into a little box? Christmas is something that should be fun and enjoyable. Not something to be dreaded and acknowledged only when December is really and truly here and it can no longer be ignored. As a kid I spent months building up to Christmas and I never regretted it, so why start now? And although I made this decision weeks ago, Anissa's stroke has only cemented it for me. You never know what could happen to yourself or anyone else in your life and I don't want to miss a single bit of joy because I'm being jaded by popular culture. Christmas has been commercialized yes. There's no denying it and there's not much we can do about it but in reality it's only as commercialized as you allow it to be. If you see the Carols on the radio and the decorations everywhere as an evil Consumerist plot to get you to spend money then that's what they'll be. This year I'm choosing to ignore the consumerism as much as possible. I will be grateful for the Carols being on the radio already and sing along with them like I did when I was little. And I will enjoy the decorations because they are pretty and are big bright reminders that a wonderful time of the year is nearly here. I'm looking forward to Christmas for what I love about it and not being a grump about some of the hassles that come along with it. And you know what? I feel merrier already.

And one quick thing before I go. I say Happy Holidays and always will. Not because I want to be PC or because I'm afraid to offend anyone but because I see this time of year, from Thanksgiving to New Years, as the Holidays. Christmas is a single day and I think the season encompasses more than that. I don't not say Merry Christmas but I like Happy Holidays. And I find it extremely offensive when people get angry about me saying it. Also, while I celebrate Christmas, there are other lovely holidays that happen around this time as well and I see no reason why they shouldn't be included in the season simply because I don't personally celebrate them. So there. Hmph. ;D

P.S. The title is from the best Christmas Carol ever by Straight No Chaser - 12 Days of Christmas. Go listen to it!

#PrayersforAnissa

Driving home tonight I was damning that I didn't have anything to post about. I wish I still didn't. As most anyone who reads this knows, Anissa, from Aiming Low and #FreeAnissa had a stroke earlier and is now in the ICU. I barely even know her and yet I feel extremely thrown by this. Because I don't feel like I barely know her. I met her twice and I've read all her stories and even if I don't "know" her I know her. She's smart and funny and bright. She's so full of life and energy and to think of her in the ICU seems unfathomable. I keep checking twitter hoping the next post will be the one I want to hear. That instead of all the uncertainty and fear, there could again be the joy and supreme laughter that Anissa brings. And all I can think of is how spamming twitter saved her account and I want to be able to spam someone or something with enough #PrayersforAnissa that everything will be fine. I feel completely helpless, and I'm not even really her friend. Even knowing that no amount of tweeting and hash tags can change anything I want to update every moment until Anissa's name fills the Trending topics bar. There's not much I can do besides this. But instead I'll pray because that is what I can do. I'll pray until I've spammed God's inbox full and he makes her all better just so he can stop hearing from us. Because goodness knows if sheer volume can change the sway of things then the people rooting for Anissa's full and rapid recovery have got this in the bag. Because that's Anissa, she's fucking awesome and anyone who's been around her knows this.

And so, because Twitter can't help us now, I'll take a page from Anissa and end this with
"f.r.o.G…fully relying on God"


Anyone interested in Helping Anissa and her family can find more information here.
Page is getting lots of traffic so I'll post here too to save it some.

As you may have heard, Anissa, our beloved friend and leader at Aiming Low, suffered a stroke on Tuesday afternoon. She is in the hospital right now, in the ICU.

More than anything, Anissa needs your prayers and positive thoughts but to the many people in the Atlanta area who have offered help to the Mayhew family, we have set up a form for you to fill out so we can have everyone’s contact info in one place (please be assured your information will be kept private). If you are NOT in the Atlanta area but still want to help, you can also leave your information on that form.

Things that would be helpful right now are gift cards to restaurants and gift cards to the movies or to Blockbuster (to help keep the kids occupied) and gas/hotel gift cards for her extended family. We will be setting up a PO Box on Wednesday and posting the address here along with any updates. Please don’t send anything to the hospital or the Mayhew home. If you have questions, please email helpforanissa@gmail.com

We ask that you please respect the Mayhew family’s privacy by NOT calling the hospital and we thank you all SO MUCH for your outpouring of love and support for Anissa and her family.

With thanks and love,
The Aiming Low Team

If you would like to send something to Anissa and her family, we have set up a P.O. Box.
860 Johnson Ferry Road 140-184
Atlanta, GA 30342

♫ These are my con-fe-shuns!

Just one confession tonight actually. And it must be the the two drinks I've had, or maybe it's all the Hip-Hop I'm dancing to (badly- think dying animals) around the kitchen as I bake, but either way I don't tell this people unless we're already good friends for fear they won't talk to me ever again. So here it is.

My name is Melissa. And I hate chocolate chip cookies.

It's true. And the part that usually kills people? It's the chocolate I hate. I hate chocolate chips. I hate them in cookies and I hate them in ice cream. They ruin everything. I put them in the same category as raisins. The "Stay the F*ck out of anything I'm eating" category. And whenever I make Chocolate Chip cookies for my family? I make a bunch of chip-less ones for me. They're amazing, so delicious without the chocolate to ruin it. The only way chocolate chip cookies are edible is when the chocolate is melty. Chocolate in general is only edible when melty actually. (Raisins on the other hand have no redeeming qualities whatsoever.) So thats it. I hate chocolate chips. I undertstand if we can't be friends anymore. But before you walk away forever consider this. I totally give away any chips I find in my cookies. Thats more for you!
So just think about it okay?