Dear Ladies and Gentlemen,
My name is Ang, and I like to be silly. So does my husband. We try to raise our children right, but it’s not easy. The other day we explained the difference between unacceptable, bad pranks and practical jokes that don’t hurt anyone.
For my example of totally awful, I told a story I heard on the news of a college student who took a tray full of brownies into a high school office and told the secretaries that it was for a Boy Scout Eagle project.
Administrators devoured the brownies, which turned out to contain high levels of marijuana. Old ladies had to go to the hospital.
AWFUL! Unacceptable. Evil.
Too bad I could not stop laughing during the whole retelling, and my husband was cracking up, too.
Read it again! It’s funny! We laughed right through the part where we talked about how much jail time that kid got.
I grew up near Wichita Falls, Texas, (17th cheapest place to live in the U.S.!) where I experienced my fair share of tornadoes, rattlesnakes, and scorpions. To compensate, the Good Lord provided me with wonderful family and friends and purty sunsets.
In college I met a handsome, funny guy who I married despite the fact that he dressed like Jerry Seinfeld. We’ve worked on that, so now he’s pretty much perfect. He also does really good impressions of people, and what makes life more entertaining than being able to accurately make fun of someone else?
We have two kids who watched Dumb and Dumber much too young. “Mock-ING Bird. Yeah!” That’s my fault. I’m tempted to brag on them right now because they’re awesome. I’ll be fast: loving smart funny beautiful caring interesting.
After moving around for eight years (Cali, Georgia, Louisiana) we settled in The Bubble, a lovely suburb in Texas. Come to think of it, I’ve lived in several places that have referred to themselves as The Bubble. Is that a common nickname, or am I attracted to cult-like communities? Either way, I’m happy and feel at peace every day after the morning blood sacrifices.
Extraneous information just in case you want to get intimate:
1. I’m a paranoid, controlling, and occasionally obsessively prepared. Such fun to live with! I sleep with my iPhone, tv remote, eye drops, ponytail holders, ear phones, and nose spray under my pillow. When my husband is gone, I sleep with the alarm clock in my face and weapons close by. Don’t mess with me. Or the state of Texas, for that matter.
2. Music makes me cry. I tear up at recitals, church, concerts, and movies. It’s only the music that makes me do it—not necessarily anything else that’s going on. I always cry at Sea World during the majestic music when Shamu swims out. Whales aren’t that beautiful.
3. Speaking of whales, I once ordered a white one-piece swim suit from J. Crew because it looked good on the model, and I thought I was skinny and tan enough (at the time. Clearly not now.) Anyway, one is NEVER skinny and tan enough for a white one-piece. Damn you, J.Crew.
4. My son read a book where the kid wanted to wear his ninja outfit around because he liked feeling “comfortable and deadly.” I love that line, and that’s how I like to feel, which explains my fondness for Nike.
5. When I was young, my dad kept a pet rattlesnake (for educational purposes) and gunpowder (to blow stuff up) in our garage at home. He is the coolest dad ever. He and my mom also always gave me confidence and told me that I could do anything I wanted to do in life. This backfired on them when I decided I could do anything I wanted at age 18 and was accountable to no one but myself. What I wanted to do was party and not go to class. (By party, I mean go to Walmart at midnight. We were the cool crowd.) I was able to accomplish this goal. Fortunately, I also got a degree after my mom brainwashed me. I had to repeat “I will ignore my friends. I will go to class. I will study,” every day for two days. That’s all it took. I’m kinda easily influenced.
6. I’m really scared of house cats. They can sense my fear and antagonize me even more. If one ever comes after me again, I will kick it with my Nike-clad foot if it hasn’t already pounced on my face and scratched my eyes out.
7. I’m left-handed. I like to think that it makes me special and totally justified in keeping one room a mega-disaster at all times. The plagued room rotates, but it always exists, lurking around as an omnipresent force of chaos in my life.
8. I like to laugh until I fall out of my chair.