Take a Chance on Missed Connections

At the risk of sounding incredibly shallow, let me just say this: I would love to see myself appear on the “missed connections” page of Craigslist.

Hear me out.

Nothing would make me happier than clicking through those links and seeing a description of me. I just want to know that there’s someone out there willing to put the effort in going online, writing an anonymous description of me, and then sending it for all the world to see in the hopes that I’ll stumble across it. I mean, seriously, it seems like a huge compliment.

I know 98% of those ads are just people cruising for sex, and well done for them for being so bold. I can’t say I’m someone who would ever write the words, “You were a really good waiter, Doug from Olive Garden. Would love to get together sometime and see what else you serve up.” What can I say? I play hard to get.

But some of those people have got to be looking for love. Someone saw me taking a nap on the bus or spilling pizza sauce on my shirt and thought “Wow. That’s the one.” I don’t know why you’d need anything else to go on. You can pretty much guess how a person’s going to be just by watching them. “Oh, he seems cool, he has stains on his clothes and doesn’t give a damn!”

And what a great story to tell your friends when they ask, “how did you guys meet?” You can say “well, I was using the port-a-potty at the street fair and he saw me from across the street. He didn’t say anything, but that night he went on Craigslist and wrote about me in the “missed connections.” Luckily I was on the verge of suicide so I was on Craigslist looking for some fast action. I saw his post and thought “what the hell?” and we agreed to meet in a very public location.”

Then there are the ones that have loved already, and they go to Craigslist as a final plea for their loved one’s heart. “Oh Kyle, (name changed for this story) I miss our long text talks together. The few weeks we’ve known each other have been the best of my life. I wish you’d return my calls, I can’t imagine life without you. We have so much to learn about each other: Our dreams, our biggest fears, our last names. Please call. –XOXO You know who”

Damn it, Kyle, just do it!! DO IT!

Granted, some missed connections seem a bit lazy on behalf of the posters. Like “I sucked you off in the park, you seem like a cool guy, would love to get together some time.” Really? Couldn’t have asked that in person? You’re sucking him in the park, THE ICE HAS BEEN BROKEN. Take a chance on love!

Buy anyway; perhaps I’m just desperate for the attention. But once, just ONCE, I would like to go on Craigslist any random day and discover that I’m reading about myself. I’m not saying I’ll respond; in fact I may change the locks to my house. But it would give a great spring in my step to know that someone cared enough to make a useless gesture on the Internet.

In fact, I may make a posting of my own. Something like this:

“You were reading my blog the other day. You probably found it by accident, or perhaps you’re just a virus going around. Anyway, I seem like a cool guy and you’d like to get to know me better, but you’re too shy. Or maybe you read the rest of my postings and thought, “he’s a lunatic”. Either way I encourage you to take the first step. Send me a reply with your name, age, and stats (height, weight, level of attractiveness).”

What? I’m not that desperate.

She Was Never There: A Short Story

 Last night I was struck with a pretty bad case of insomnia, so I wrote a little story. It's inspired by the recent "controversy" regarding Notre Dame football player Manti Te'o. If you haven't heard, basically Te'o claimed his girlfriend died, either in a car accident or from leukemia. But it turns out that girlfriend was never real, and Te'o is claiming to have been the victim of an internet hoax.

I have no idea what's really going on there, although a new internet fad is to take a picture with your arm around your invisible girlfriend (it's called Te'oing and I love the interent). But I wrote a tale similar to this, giving my own explanation for how something like this could have happened. It's purely fiction, meant to entertain. Enjoy it.

"She Was Never There"

by Isaac Crow

They met in the summer at a party. Eve was a friend of a friend of Manuel’s cousin Skylar. It was a fun party, but Manuel had promised Skylar he’d drive home. Hating being around drunk people unless he too was obliterated, Manuel had reserved himself to standing along the back wall, watching people dance. That was when Eve had approached him.

She was quite the vision. She had long blonde hair, a beautiful face, and was the only girl at the party who didn’t have a fake tan. Manuel was instantly smitten as the two struck up a conversation. He learned she went to school far away; she was just in town visiting a friend. He told her about football and, unlike most girls who obviously weren’t listening, her face lit up a bit as they talked about it. She said she was sure he was going to have a good year in the fall, despite how nervous he felt.

They talked for hours, until one of Skylar’s friends vomited on a girl’s shoes. At that point Manuel decided it was time to call it a night. Before he left the party Manuel made sure they were Facebook friends. She shot him a sly, sad smile as he left the party, rounding up Skylar and his baboon friends into his car.

Eve had gone home shortly after that. A few days after the party Manuel struck up a Facebook chat with her. Eventually it became a nightly ritual, them chatting online or texting each other. Manuel was really falling for this girl, which felt crazy because he’d only met her once. But it also felt right; he was never able to open up to anybody like he could with her.

Before school started back up in the fall, he called Eve and asked her to be his girlfriend. She said “yes” but requested they not make it Facebook official. “It’s just so tacky,” she said dismissively over the phone. Manuel smiled even though she couldn’t see him. “Yeah,” he agreed, “it’s so dumb.”

And that was that: Manuel had a great girlfriend, albeit a long-distance one. His grades were good and the team was doing great, no small thanks to him. Girls at school would hit on him all the time. He enjoyed the attention he was getting, but he’d brush them aside gently. And every night, either after classes or practice, he’d text Eve. Sometimes they’d just make small talk, but it always made Manuel feel better and was his favorite way to end the night.

Manuel made plans to travel up to Eve’s college the weekend before Thanksgiving break. She happily agreed and sent him directions to her apartment. “My roommate will be outta here ;-)” she texted him. His interest peaked, Manuel started the upcoming countdown to his weekend away.

The day before he was going to leave to see her his cousin questioned him. “I don’t understand…who is this girl?” Skylar asked.

“I told you she was at that party. The one you were too shitfaced to see straight at?”

“Yeah, I remember that. But I don’t remember seeing any girl there talking to you.”

“Well yeah, but you were drunk. Remember in the car you told us all how badly you were gonna miss Whitney Houston?”

Skylar flushed a little. “I meant that.” He admitted. “But like I don’t know how you can have a girlfriend after this one party. I mean I haven’t even seen a picture of her on Facebook.”

“She’s a very private person. I like that about her.” It was true, Manuel liked that Eve wasn’t one of those girls who posted their lives on the internet for the world to see.

“Well whatever, just be careful okay? I mean what do you know about her?”

Manuel felt his face get hot with anger. “I know a lot about her, asshole. We talk all the time. She’s really great. Get over it.”

He stormed away from his cousin, no longer wanting to talk about it.

The drive up to Eve’s college took a while, but eventually Manuel made it there. It was a beautiful campus, very large with big buildings and trees everywhere. Eve’s apartment complex looked a lot nicer than his own shabby residence back home. He took it as another good sign that this weekend would be great.

He got to Eve’s apartment following the directions she’d texted him. He knocked on the door and she opened it. She was just as gorgeous as he’d remembered. It was if time had frozen for her after that party; her hair was even the same length.

“You look great,” he said. He leaned in to kiss her. It was awkward; not because it was their first kiss, but her lips were so cold it made him gasp. But he kept kissing her, making a silent vow to warm her lips up. She smiled appreciatively as he pulled his face away.

“It’s so good to see you again” she said in a quiet voice. “I’ve missed you.”

Manuel laughed. “We talk all the time.”

“I know that,” she said, pulling her blonde hair back. “It’s just so good to see you again.”

This time she pulled him into a kiss; her lips were much warmer now, Manuel noted. His whole body ached as they stood their kissing. After months of talking, she was finally right here in his arms. Life was good.

The rest of the weekend went by way too fast. They went out dancing at the clubs full of college kids who hadn’t left for break yet. They’d dance til late in the morning, then go back to Eve’s apartment. The first night there, the two of them had sex. Manuel was sure it was the best he’d ever had and, judging from the noises, Eve seemed to enjoy it too.

For the rest of his visit the two of them mostly stayed in. They ordered food (Eve didn’t want to buy new groceries right before the break), watched movies on the couch, went out dancing again, then returned home for another round of lovemaking. The last thing Manuel wanted to do was leave that Sunday morning.

She kissed him goodbye in the doorway of her apartment.

“Bye,” she whispered lovingly.

“I love you.” Manuel said it without really thinking. But he found he meant it.

Eve’s face looked sadder. Oh shit, Manuel thought, I scared her. What kind of douchebag drops the love bomb this early?

            A smile eventually formed on her sad face. “I love you too.” She said. They kissed goodbye again, and he left. He felt corny just thinking it, but Manuel was confident he’d never been this happy before.

           Manuel’s life was wrecked two weeks before Christmas. He received an email from someone at Eve’s college. Apparently Eve had been hit by a car one night and was killed on impact. Manuel couldn’t believe it; how could this have happened? How could the one thing that brought him so much joy now be taken from him?

         Manuel called his family and told them what had happened. He said they had to get a hold of someone, get information about the viewing and the funeral. He wanted to talk to Eve’s parents, tell them who he was and how much he’d loved her. His parents had nodded along, agreeing to do anything they could to help their heartbroken son.

        However, when he went home to see them he was greeted with a surprise. His parents brought him in and they all sat down on the couch. With them in the living room were his cousin Skylar and a woman dressed in nice black dress clothes with a police badge on her shirt.

       “Manuel,” the woman said, “I’m Detective Collins. I’d like to talk to you about Eve.”

       “Are you in charge of finding the bastard that ran her over?” Manuel asked angrily.

         His parents share a nervous glance with each other as Detective Collins continued. 

        “Eve wasn’t hit by a car” the woman said.

        A small light of hope swelled in Manuel’s chest. “She’s alive.”

        Collins shook her head. “Well, no.”

       “So…how did she die?”

       Collins bit her lip before answering. “She didn’t die, Manuel. She was never alive in the first place.”

        That really threw Manuel. “What? I-I don’t understand.”

        His mother reached over and patted his leg affectionately.

        “We ran a check on this Eve when your parents called. There are no records of her in any morgues or hospitals, nor is she even enlisted at the college.”

       “What? They sent me an email-“

       “Could I see it?”

       Manuel got out his phone and looked through his emails. He searched for that horrible email that wrecked his world, but couldn’t find it. He looked over all his files; it was nowhere to be found.

       “I must have deleted it.” He said unsurely.

       “No traces of her were found on Facebook or anything like that.” Detective Collins informed him. “Nobody with her last name lived in that town. Your cousin here got a hold of the people that went to that party; nobody said they knew an Eve.”

      “But-“

      “There’s more,” the policewoman kept going. “The police were called out to the Nichols Apartment at “Eve’s” college the week after you went up there to visit. Did you stay in room 231?”   

      Manuel nodded.

     “The girl who lives in that room said she came home after break and found her bed had been messed up, like it had been slept in and-excuse me-fucked in. The pictures she kept out on her desk and nightstand had been stuffed into a box in her closet.”

     “Wait, what are you saying?” Manuel was about to lose it.

      His mother was crying now, rubbing her son’s leg sadly.

      His father spoke up. “Son, we think you made Eve up.”

     “What!? That’s crazy!”

     “No kidding,” Skylar muttered.

     “Eve was real! I saw her there, I kissed her, we went out!”

      Collins spoke up again. “Security cameras on campus captured you walking around by yourself that weekend. You were looking at someone who wasn’t there and you kept talking to it.”

      Manuel was breathing hard now, tears welling up in his eyes. “But she was real, she-“

     “Did Eve cook anything for you?” Collins inquired.

     “No, we ordered out.”

    “Did she pay the deliverymen?”

    “No, I did, what difference-“

    “Son,” his dad said calmly. “Eve wasn’t real. You didn’t visit anybody. You broke into a stranger’s apartment and messed up her room. Then you went all over the campus talking to yourself. Manuel, we think you might have schizophrenia.”

    His mother burst into a fresh round of tears after that was said.

    “I’m not crazy!” Manuel yelled, getting up from the couch angrily. “How can you think that about me?!?”

    “Manuel, these things can happen to anybody-” Detective Collins started.

    “Fuck you guys! I’m not crazy! I’ll find her!” Marius screamed as he stormed out of his house, his family and the policewoman yelling after him.

    Manuel’s search for Eve came up empty. He looked all over her college campus, closely monitored by the police. He tried to find her texts, her Facebook profile, any proof of her existence. There was nothing.

    But how could that be? Manuel had kissed her, had sex with her, had loved her. How could she just not have ever existed? She was gone without a trace.

    He had become a laughingstock at his school. His friends, his teammates, they all said he’d gone crazy looking for a girl none of them had met and who had never been real. Eventually it was too much for Manuel: he dropped out of college. A week afterwards, at the urging of his parents, Manuel agreed to go somewhere to receive psychiatric care.

 

     Eve watched from the trees as Manuel’s parents helped him load up their car. She cried softly as observed, feeling guilt for the pain she’d caused him. As she watched she became aware of the cloaked figure that had appeared next to her.

    “Hello Eve,” the Judge said.

    “Hello,” she said glumly.

     The Judge held a black clipboard in its hands and read off of it.

     “Got a bit careless this time, didn’t we Eve?” the Judge asked in its creepy ambiguous voice.

     Eve nodded a response.

    “Let’s see…the terms were you could make yourself visible and corporeal to one mortal at the party, with the intent of having a quick hookup.” The Judge read lazily from the sheet. “You would also be allowed to posses a phone to continue a “long-distance” relationship that would not last more than a month.”

    Eve nodded again.

    “But it went on, didn’t it? You possessed his phone and kept talking to him. He eventually wanted to visit you, so you found an empty apartment, stole a key from one of its residents, hid any sign that resident lived there, and invited him into it. Continuing to take corporeal form, you had sex with said mortal- that’s a huge offense, by the way- and got him to fall in love with you.”

    “That’s all true.” Eve said softly.

    The Judge looked up from its clipboard and held it against its body.

    “So did you love him?” it asked her curiously.

     “I did.” Eve said.

      The Judge clucked a little. “Well I hope it was worth it. Once your sentence passes in the Courts I can guarantee you’ll be in purgatory for a long time.”

      Eve nodded solemnly. It was worth it, she decided. She had loved him but had also wrecked him. She could now only hope he’d recover from the mental scarring she’d given him. And hope that purgatory wasn’t as bad as she’d heard it was.

       “Come,” the Judge said. It held out a cloaked arm. Eve grabbed it lightly, and the two faded away from this world.

The Fool Writes: "The Luckiest Girl"

Now for something a little different: I challenged myself to write for an hour and see what happened. This is a little thriller short story I wrote, inspired by a girl I saw downtown one day and decided to completely fabricate a story for her. Read and enjoy!

“The Luckiest Girl”

by Isaac Crow

Sarah Tulsey was a lucky girl, although you would never be able to tell by looking at her. Sarah was at least one hundred pounds overweight and had a flat face. Her brown hair was always stringy and greasy, and she usually kept it up in a ponytail.

Her personality wasn’t very attractive either. She had very poor social skills and never had any friends in high school. Sarah was a rather mean girl. She wasn’t a bully, but she never took advantage of people who tried to open up to her and be her friend. She was a loner mostly all her life.

So why was Sarah a lucky girl? For one thing, she always wore a bright yellow t-shirt that said “Lucky Girl” in bold pink letters across the front. But just because something is written on a t-shirt doesn’t mean it’s true. Although if someone’s t-shirt says “I’m with Stupid” and has an arrow pointing up a themselves, that one is probably true.

But Sarah was a lucky girl long before she found that t-shirt. She was actually a lucky girl from the moment she was born.

Sarah’s mother, Elaine, was not loyal to her husband Edgar. She would cheat on him left, right, and sideways despite the fact that he was a devoted husband. Shortly after marrying him Elaine realized she didn’t love him but, worried about never finding love again, she stayed married to him. She had her affairs but they never lasted long.

One night Elaine lay with another man, Simon. Simon was a hard-working man and (according to Elaine) a very passionate lover. Unfortunately, he was also careless. Simon’s wife came home and found him in bed with Elaine. Which is bad enough in most cases, but Simon happened to be married to a woman who claimed to be a witch.

The witch was furious. As Elaine scurried around the bedroom picking up her clothes, the witch screamed at her. She said, “May your first born child be doomed to die. Every five years of your child’s life, Death will come for it and try to take it. Death will only leave her be if It takes another in her place. If It does, it will return five years later to try again, until it succeeds.”

Elaine was not a very superstitious person, but the witch’s words got to her. As it happened, a few weeks later Elaine learned she was pregnant. She tried to contact Simon, but no one had seen him in weeks, and his wife had left town. Elaine managed to convince Edgar the child was his, and from then on she remained loyal to him.

Elaine gave birth in a hospital, like any respectable woman would. For the nine months she spent preparing she worried about the words the witch had said. Would her baby have problems? Would it die in her womb? Would it be stillborn? Sometimes these thoughts kept her awake at night. Other times she would sleep and dream of the witch, and wake up in an icy sweat.

The doctor who delivered Sarah was an old man. Dr. Williams had delivered over a hundred babies in his lifetime, and it was rumored he could do it blindfolded. All his nurses and patients loved him, and said they never had a better doctor to help them through their childbirth. Elaine loved him as well, and she was happy he was able to successfully deliver Sarah.

After he cut the cord, Dr. Williams put Sarah in Elaine’s arms. “Congratulations, Mrs. Tulsey,” he said, “It’s a beautiful baby girl.” And then he fell over and died.

That event traumatized Elaine. Dr. Williams was old, for sure, so a heart attack wasn’t that uncommon. Still Elaine couldn’t help but think his death was the reason her Sarah survived. Although she still worried, she decided to push it to the back of her mind as she took care of her lucky baby girl.

Almost five years went past and Elaine couldn’t have been happier. She had made peace with her marriage to Edgar and loved taking care of Sarah. Although the little toddler was chubby, she had no health problems and all the specialists said she would live a happy life. For many years Elaine never even thought about the witch.

But then one week before Sarah’s fifth birthday the nightmares returned. The witch would be standing there, fire burning in those dark eyes. She would be pointing an accusing bony hand at Sarah and repeating her curse. Again, Sarah found herself waking up in cold sweat and, one time, screaming.

By the time Sarah’s birthday rolled around Elaine was convinced death would come for her baby once more. The panic caused her to never let Sarah out of her sight for fear something would happen. So she began to make plans.

For Sarah’s birthday, Elaine and Edgar got her a cake and had a small celebration as a family. It was one of the only (and the last) times Elaine would feel like she had a perfect family. Elaine put Sarah to bed as Edgar sat in his favorite chair to watch television. Worried about Sarah’s “allergies” Elaine made her daughter take a dose of Benadryl. When she was sure her daughter was out like a light, Elaine calmly walked back into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. Silently, she went into the living room and cut her husband’s throat.

And lucky Sarah lived another five years.

Those next five years were particularly rough on Elaine. She felt guilt over all the abuse she had given Edgar over the years, not to mention murdering him in cold blood. She was always worried she’d be found out, too. Disposing the body had been scary, but she managed to get Edgar into the trunk of her car and later bury him in the woods.

The nightmares were more frequent. Sometimes the witch would be there, pointing and screaming at her. Sometimes it was Edgar, blood still pouring from the large gash where his throat used to be. Sometimes both of them would be in the dream. Other times Death would appear, wearing a long black cloak and reaching a cold dead hand out to grab her.

By the morning of Sarah’s tenth birthday Elaine was almost completely deteriorated. She hadn’t slept or eaten in at least a week and her face looked hollow and full of pain. That morning after she sent Sarah off to school and wished her Happy Birthday, Elaine began to write her a note. In that note, she explained everything: her affair, the witch, Dr. Williams’ dying, and the murder of her father. After finishing the note and putting it in an envelope addressed to “My Lucky Girl”, Elaine called an ambulance. Immediately after hanging up the phone, Elaine hung herself from the ceiling of her living room. The paramedics didn’t make it in time.

And, Sarah lived five more years.

Foster care was a rough time for Sarah, especially since she was a rude little girl who got teased because of her weight. Even worse was that she thought her mom was crazy, going on about witches and what not. Sarah learned the murder was very true (police found her father’s skeleton buried where Elaine’s note said it was), so she was convinced her dear, sweet mother was clearly mentally unstable.

As Sarah grew into a surly teenager she began to have weird dreams. Her parents would appear to her and tell her to be careful. Sometimes a woman she’d never met would point and scream at her. Other times she would dream it was just pitch black, but then she would realize she was in a coffin and had to dig her way out.

Despite being a rude loner, Sarah did manage to get herself a boyfriend of sorts. Rory was your typical “badass” foster care kid who also didn’t have a lot of friends. Eventually the two formed a sort of bond where they would sneak out to get drunk and smoke together. Upon learning it would be Sarah’s fifteenth birthday, Rory made plans for them to sneak out and go to their favorite hangout on an abandoned wooden bridge.

Sarah was excited to be going out with Rory that night, pushing all the thoughts of her horrible nightmares out of her mind. They got to their favorite spot, split a bottle of Jack and a joint and spent the night holding each other. It was the first perfect night Sarah remembered having since her mother died.

When the sun started to rise Rory told her they had to get back. As Sarah pulled herself up she lost her footing and fell against the railing of the wooden bridge. It broke beneath her weight and Sarah suddenly found herself falling towards the rocks below. Luckily, Rory was fast enough to see her fall and strong enough to catch her and pull her back up.

“Shit, that was a close one.” He said, stroking her dirty hair out of her face.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Thanks.”

The two walked off the bridge and started through the woods. They didn’t get too far before Rory realized he left his jacket on the bridge. “Stay here, I’ll go get it.”

Sarah waited for him in the silent woods for a few minutes. A loud crack and then an even louder crash made her heart jump to her throat. Running as fast as her fat legs could carry her, Sarah ran back to the bridge. When she got there, she couldn’t see it. At the bottom of the rocky ravine was a pile of planks that used to be the bridge and, somewhere amongst them, Rory’s body.

Sarah lived another five years, the lucky girl.

Sarah had managed to get a job at a department store. It was all she could get, education wise, and all she could handle mentally. One of her managers, Tina, was a real bitch to Sarah everyday. She would tell her to be nicer to the customers and to move faster on the sales floor. Sarah hated her, but tolerated her enough to get her job done. It was actually at this department store Sarah bought her  “Lucky Girl” t-shirt. She hoped wearing it ironically would cheer her up and maybe allow her to make friends. It didn’t.

Life had gone even further downhill for Sarah by the time she neared twenty. Rory’s death had scarred what little sanity she had left. Nightmares happened every night. Sometimes that bony woman would appear. The witch, Sarah though, although she still didn’t want to believe in witches. Other people would appear with the witch. An old doctor she never knew. Her father with dried blood caked down the front of him. Her mother, rope burns on her colorless neck and sadness in her dead eyes. Rory, almost unrecognizable with all the pieces of him that were missing. It was hell.

The nightmares happened almost nightly three months before her twentieth birthday. Sarah couldn’t get them out of her mind…did this mean the curse was actually real? It couldn’t be, could it? It was two freak accidents, one murder, and one suicide…it’s definitely a lot of bad luck, but surely Sarah wasn’t cursed.

To convince herself she wasn’t cursed, Sarah had made plans to stay home alone on her birthday. Nothing would happen and she’s live the next day and no one else would’ve died. That was, until Tina schedule her to work the midnight shift at the store.

“They’ve upped our trucks this week, Sarah, and this shit needs to get unpacked and put away. Everyone has to do their part.” Tina would tell her before running into her office to do “her part” sitting at a nice cushy desk.

Sarah worked hard all night by herself, just Tina sitting in the office. At about two in the morning Tina came to the backroom and told Sarah she had to dump her trash in the compactor before they went home. As Tina unlocked the compactor, Sarah began to get horrible chest pains. She clutched at her flabby chest and said “oooh damn”.

Tina rolled her eyes. “Quit being a huge baby, Sarah, and throw your trash away.”

But Sarah’s pain wasn’t going away. It was coursing all through her body, and her world began to spin wildly. The lights felt like they were flashing, but Tina wasn’t reacting like they were. Her manager was saying something to her but Sarah couldn’t make out what she was saying. The pain finally got so intense Sarah was sure she was going to collapse.

Oh my God, she thought, Death is coming for me!

Not willing to die, Sarah tried with all her might to gain her wits and finally succeeded. In a rash moment of lucidity, Sarah grabbed Tina and rammed the smaller woman’s head against the metal door of the compactor. Again and again she slammed it, blood flying everywhere. Did Tina scream? Or was that her? Sarah wasn’t sure. The pain in her chest went away as she looked at Tina’s body in a puddle of blood on the floor.

Sarah tucked Tina into the compactor and closed the door, but couldn’t bring herself to press the “crush” button. Instead, Sarah raced off into the night, never to be seen by anyone in the area again.

Sarah is now an urban legend. Some people say they see Sarah wandering around cities in her Lucky Girl t-shirt. Some speculate she is simply on the run from the police for killing her boss. Others suggest she’s trying to track down the witch to get her curse removed. Others still say she’s hunting for whoever Death is going to take on her twenty-fifth birthday.

Sarah Tulsey is now a wanted woman. She is a confirmed murderer, a former juvenile delinquent, and a possible psychotic. But she is also a very lucky girl.

Jambalaya, Jobs, and June in General

Summer is here friends. I have been out of college for a solid year, and damn it feels like it went by way too fast. But I'm ready to accept that it's here, and boldly can't wait to step into the summer.

My first task in re-associating myself with life was an attempt at cooking again. I can't say I ever cooked frequently, but I used to like to try a new recipe or something from time to time. Lately, however, I have been either working or sleeping so "cooking" now consists of "heating" or "add water and stir". But I had a day off so I turned to my trusty Paula Deen cookbook and looked at a recipe for Jambalaya.

JAMBALAYA!!! Yum. Noticed the brownies in the background. Not mine.

I had never made/eaten Jambalaya before. For such a hard word to say, it was quite a simple thing to make. A little chicken, sausage, rice, tomatoes and a bunch of spices all cooked together for a delicious little meal. I knew I hadn't cooked in ages when I went to our spices in the cabinet and saw ALL this stuff I didn't know we had ("surely I'll need to buy some bay leaves...oh, I guess we have them...cool").

Secondly, I have restarted my job search. While I do enjoy the jobs I have now, I simply need more money so I've returned to submitting application after application to the Internet. So, fellow job-seekers, I feel your pain. I can only do so much applying before telling myself I'm not qualified to do anything and digging a spoon into the ice cream carton.

Thirdly, I'm looking to actually have some fun this summer (how unique, I know). Next Sunday my cousins, sister and I are doing the Pittsburgh Challenge 2012, essentially an "Amazing Race" type challenge just through the city of Pittsburgh. I'll try to snap photos and blog about it after the fact, should be a fun time had by all.

Speaking of running, my friend Kait has started doing some run training with me, in one of my fantasies of running a half marathon next year to check something off my bucket list. It's a tall order but I think I'm up to the task.


What else is there? I want to see more movies and plays to keep up with my (recently neglected) other blog. My friend Chelsea is having a birthday celebration at a Pirates game over the summer, so that will be another fun thing I'm looking forward to. I'm also going to try to get back into writing, now that I finally got my lazy ass to add Microsoft Word on this computer. Perhaps I'll post some things onto this blog if I feel like sharing.

I came to a realization yesterday that most people I know are entering a big transitioning phase in their lives. Some people are moving, others a preparing for their wedding, others are starting new jobs, etc. While I initially saw it as a scary, changing time I have now come to accept these changes and look forward to them. Here's to Summer 2012! May as well live it up, because we could all be dead come December!