I love my ears. Wait. Let me be more specific. I love sounds. Like most of us, music is at the top of my life. A song or beat can just completely transform your entire mood. Be it for better or for worse. And while it’s TOTALLY cliche, tell me there’s nothing better than hearing your favourite song on the radio? Yes, I think I’ll make the sweeping generalization that music is good for the soul.
But it’s not just music that I love. I love sounds. Like those rare occasions when I decide to grow my nails and NOT bite them (filthy, I know)… I’m left with these glorious outcroppings of keratin that make the best ‘clack, clack, clack, clack’ on the sound of any hard surface. And I can’t resist tapping EVERYTHING. Tables, chairs, walls, windows. You name it. I’m sure it gets fairly annoying for those who work around me to constantly hear that sound. To me, it’s the sound of self control. Do you know how hard it is for me to NOT bite my nails? However, I inevitably get some kind of tear in one of my nails and am without nail clippers. This means I have to fix the tear with my teeth. Then I have a significantly shorter nail, which means that I have to trim up all of the others. With my teeth, of course. So that clacking nail sound that I love so much is fleeting.
The sound that never fails me comes from these;
Yes, those are spoons. But not just any spoons. They’re my beloved ceramic measuring spoons that I bought on a complete whim one day. Before I found myself at the checkout till I thought, “How very impractical for ceramic spoons to even exist. And WHAT is the price on these? Ridiculous. But they are pretty…”. That is how I found myself with these spoons. I can confidently say that they were worth every penny and more. They make the most AMAZING sound when they all strike together lightly. It’s like having a teeny tiny wind chime at your fingertips. And I’m always careful to ensure that my ham-fisted self is uncharacteristically delicate with these little gems. You really can’t understand audible pleasure until you use that giant tablespoon to scoop out Kona coffee grounds, being careful to only let it slightly hit the teaspoon that lives beside it which sends out a miniature shockwave of sound. It’s perfection. And this is coming from a girl who’s currently having a love affair with Beethoven. Don’t get me wrong, Ludwig was an absolute genius. But not even his ninth can get me *quite* as excited as those tiny ceramic instruments.
Over-priced measuring spoons = Happiness.
I hope my story made you smile. Let me know which unlikely bursts of sound bring YOU happiness!
I’ll never forget learning my first mnemonic. My friend’s mom taught it to me when I was 8 years old. I’m pretty sure it changed my world. At least, it changed the way I coloured. After that point, there was NEVER a rainbow that wasn’t put to paper in the perfect order. At least, not on my watch! Sure, I didn’t really know the difference between indigo and violet at the time… but I was pretty sure my rainbow would be up to spec as long as I used two different shades of purple.
I think Roy G. Biv just helped me to appreciate colour in general. I try to have the spectrum represented in my life as much as possible. I like to think that my home is a place where colours come to ‘party’. It’s a haven… a safe house… a theatre. All welcome, all equal.
My absolute favourite place for colour is my bedroom. Everything about this new room of mine makes me happy. Ecstatic, even! Normally I really don’t spend much time in my bedroom. It’s more of a place to sleep. Though, sometimes I’ll pop my head inside just to smile. Today, however, I got to spend most of the afternoon in my favourite place. Granted, it was because I have a backache and can’t really move much. But even that didn’t seem so bad today. Why? Because I got to look at this all afternoon;
Those are the rainbows that swirl around my room when the sun comes out. My dear friends Heather and Paul gave me a solar-powered prism when I moved and it has quickly become my favourite thing. When the sun shines on the panel, it spins the prism around creating never-ending rainbows on the walls and ceiling in my bedroom. Normally I’m not in my room for the sunniest part of the day, so I miss the rainbows. But not today. I laid on my bed watching the rainbows fall on the walls, the bed, the dogs and my toes. The magical rainbows added the perfect colour to my room. I didn’t even mind the back pain because it meant enjoying the rainbows that I might have otherwise missed.
Magical sun-fed rainbows = Happiness.
I hope my story made you smile. Let me know which mnemonics bring YOU happiness!
I know this will come as a shock, but sometimes I lose sight of things. Weird, right? Because who ELSE on earth does that happen to? Probably nobody. I don’t know that I ever lose sight of happiness as a whole, but it’s possible that I’ve lost sight of the little pockets of happiness here and there. Or, perhaps I’ve just taken them for granted.
Some of you MAY have noticed that I haven’t posted anything in many, many, many months. There are various reasons for that, but for the abridged version (so unlike me, I know), I got lazy. Blogging became a habit for me, and I fell out of that habit. Along with that came me losing sight of the small things that bring me happiness. Those little nuggets that I pass along to you. The ones that make you scratch your head and say, “Really? THIS is what makes this crazy lady happy? Whatever…”
In the last month, I’ve moved homes. While my miniature basement suite with the walls closing in on me WAS awesome, it was time for a change. A change to a place more than twice the size, but thankfully, not twice the rent. In the last month a lot of things have happened that make me happy. Things I will tell you all about (don’t worry). It struck me this evening that one of the things I dislike the most in the world is actually bringing me happiness in a sick, twisted way. I am talking about this;
That is a drying rack full of clean dishes. I HATE doing dishes. I can’t even tell you how many things I’d rather be doing than the dishes. I’d rather clean toilets. Or windows. Or a yard full of dog ‘presents’. In fact, when I was younger, I would play dead to get out of washing dishes. I was more of a ‘dryer’. That is, I would wait for the dishes to dry and put them away. Either that or my mom would get annoyed with me and put them away herself. For me, that was a more favourable scenario.
So, am I happy because the rack is full of dishes that are washed? Heck no. I STILL had to wash them. But it occurred to me that since I’ve been in my new home, that I love and adore, I’ve done the dishes every night. Almost without exception. And I’ve done them because I love my home so much that I want it to stay ‘nice’ and not turn into what my other home did. I would call it a hovel, but that might be a slight exaggeration. Anyway, washing dishes has now become a habit. And a good one at that. If I can turn something I don’t like into a habit, how hard can it be to do that with something I DO like… Like writing about what makes me happy?
With that, I’m back on the blogging train. I have too many things to be happy about to NOT share with you! You have a drying rack full of dishes to thank for that. If I leave them long enough, do you think my mom will come and put them away?
Dishpan hands = Happiness.
I hope my story made you smile. Let me know which loathsome household chores bring YOU happiness!
To say that we’re experiencing a ‘cold snap’ would be an understatement. It’s a bloody deep-freeze out there! For the last week, we’ve been experiencing temperatures of -30 with the wind. It’s a horrible, awful, terrible thing. All you can think about is being cold. It’s especially horrible for me as I foolishly started training for a full marathon a couple of weeks ago. I say ‘foolishly’ for two reasons; 1. Because I’m going to have to eventually run 42.2 kilometres. 2. Because I started this training in January. Bonehead move, I know.
It doesn’t help that I’m a bit of a complainer by nature. I basically complain about everything that I don’t like or don’t want to do. And I usually do so with a loud, dramatic flare. Sometimes if I complain loudly enough, I get out of whatever it is I don’t want to do. You know, the whole ‘squeaky wheel gets oiled’ story. Worst case scenario, I get some laughter from my dramatics and that makes me feel slightly less ‘put out’ about doing something that I don’t want to do.
Here’s what I’ve discovered about marathon runners; they don’t complain! Do you have any idea how annoying that is for me? I feel like it’s stripped away my license to complain about this training. Something about how nobody is forcing me to do this, so really, how can I complain? Garbage! Even when it’s -30 these people don’t complain! They just go out and do it. Last Sunday was our first day of this unbearable cold. All I wanted was one person to say they wouldn’t run. Just one so I could feel justified in going home and crawling back into my warm bed. Do you think I could find anyone? No. So I was basically forced to go out and deal with the cold. Without complaining. But a funny thing happened… About 5 minutes into the run, I wasn’t all that cold anymore. After 15 minutes, it was almost pleasant. And when that 10k run was over, I found I didn’t really mind it after all.
This past week I did my usual required runs. But on Saturday, I found myself adding an additional run, just so I could get used to the cold. WHAT?!? I know. It’s a crazy thing. This morning we were scheduled to do a 13k run. So, I got up, checked my phone, and this is what I saw;
I know it’s tough to see, but it reads -21. With the wind, -29. (Ignore that this picture was taken in the evening… it was the same temperature in the morning!). And when I saw this, I kind of did an internal ‘yesssssss!’ instead of my usual ‘ughhhh!’. Seeing this temperature actually made me happy. There’s just something about completing a run in this weather that makes a person feel incredibly accomplished. Seriously, I feel like a rockstar when it’s done! And yes, I’m super-cold for the couple of hours following the run, but the feeling of accomplishment far outweighs the discomfort of being cold. Running in this ridiculous weather is making me a heartier runner, that’s for sure. And maybe even a heartier person. We’ll see. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll be SO happy when things start to heat up, but for now…
-29 degrees Celcius = Happiness.
I hope my story made you smile. Let me know which temperatures bring YOU happiness!
I know, I know, I know… I’m SORRY, okay? It’s been longer than it should have been. This is for a couple of reasons. First one is this stupid energy-sucking disease I have. It’s like a vampire, I swear. However, after weeks of stocking up on garlic, holy water and stakes, I think I’ve managed to thwart the evil entity. The second reason is a bit lamer… The weather. It’s SO HARD to want to do anything but hibernate when winter actually arrives. I ‘get’ bears. These are SMART animals. Except for polar bears. I think they’re masochists. Clearly they are.
Cold weather and snow are two of those things that really, just makes you want to eat. And not healthy food, but good ol’ fattening food. After all you NEED to keep up your caloric intake for those months of hibernation ahead of you. I have found that anything containing butter and/or chocolate really helps with this. Red wine doesn’t hurt, either. And let’s face it, we’re into the run-up ‘til Christmas now, so eggnog seems like a pretty safe bet. Rum is, of course, optional, but if you want to stay warm, it’s preferred.
Another wonderful way to deal with these chilly months is by layering. I’m all about turtle necks and sweaters! I thank my mom for that. No sense being cold. Giant Sorel boots help the situation, as do hats that make you look ridiculous. In my case, that would be every hat I wear. My number one tool to combat the cold is my electric blanket. Best gift I ever received. You just plug that bad boy in, crank her up to ‘H’ and life is gooooooooood. It’s like you’re sitting under a little slice of Hawaii.
All of these ways are great for combating the cold. But they may render a person to be slightly unmotivated. When you’re spending all of your time eating, layering and cocooning, how could there POSSIBLY be energy left to blog? I know, it’s a sad reason and it doesn’t fly with you guys. But I think the thing I can almost blame exclusively for my lack of posts is this;
To the untrained eye, it simply looks like a bed. So, you might think, ‘Oh, I get it… choosing to sleep instead of providing us with nuggets of happiness. Thanks a LOT’. But if you look a little harder, you might see two little lumps under that duvet. Those lumps would be my dogs. Or, if you prefer, Lo and O. Lo and O might be a lot of things but they’re not stupid. Once winter hits, they know how to stay warm. Those two little Bostons make their way UNDER my covers and curl in next to me. Lo on my left side, O on my right side. And they are literally lumps that don’t move. But not just lumps, heat emitting lumps. These puppies are FURNACES! And there is no better feeling than waking up in the morning to find that your nose might be a little frigid, but the rest of you is roasty toasty. You KNOW that as soon as you leave that bed, the rest of you is going to become like your nose. So who WOULDN’T chose to stay under the covers with the warmest puppies in the world? You’d be foolish not to stay in bed for AT LEAST another 30 minutes. However, this DOES cut into my blogging time. BUT, this morning I was woken up by a text from my brother asking why the heck I hadn’t been blogging. This made me realize I couldn’t hibernate ALL winter, despite how comforting it is. Thus, I am back. Thank my brother. And finger-wag my dogs when you see them next, because this is clearly their fault. I KNOW it’s made me very lazy in the mornings, but despite this…
Little puppy furnaces = Happiness.
I hope my story made you smile. Let me know which winter coping mechanisms bring YOU happiness!
I don’t know that I do anything voraciously. Well, perhaps from time to time I eat voraciously. And I may have an insatiable appetite for all things ‘pink’. That’s about it. Food and a colour. Don’t get me wrong, I would LIKE to be more cultured. And I would certainly LIKE to be a voracious reader. It’s such a great way to be described, isn’t it? But, I’m afraid that my reading comes in binges and purges. I’m either totally into reading and can’t find enough books, or I just don’t have the wherewithal to even OPEN a book.
I would like to say that when I DO read, they’re always quality books that leave me thinking about them for days after. The truth is, I’m a sucker for anything in ‘The Shopoholic’ series. Or ANY Brit Chick Lit for that matter. Fluff. Sometimes I rise above fluff, but only slightly. I was looking at my book collection the other day. I have a lot of sleeves that are pink or yellow. Girly. As for the ‘darker’, more ‘serious’ novels… well, I’ve had good intentions of reading them! Purchasing is the first step, right? But I’ll admit, a lot of them haven’t even had their spines cracked.
BUT, when I DO find what I feel to be a universally ‘great’ book, I read it over and over and over again. One that comes to mind is ‘One Hundred Years of Solitude’ by Gabriel García Márquez. The book was given to me by my sister’s ex-boyfriend who was decidedly ‘deeper’ than I. I was sceptical. Especially when I opened it up and read the inscription, “Jenny, I know it’s no Coronation Street, but…”. It was a FANTASTIC book. Amazing. I can’t even really put my finger on what it is that makes is so wonderful. But I can tell you that as soon as I was done, I flipped to the first page and read it all over again. I hadn’t done that since reading ‘Wendy and the Bullies’ when I was in elementary school.
Nearly 2 years ago, somebody recommended this book to me;
'The Elegance of the Hedgehog', or, as I affectionately call it, 'Hedgehog', has sat on my book shelf for nearly that same amount of time. Whoever recommended it to me had such HIGH praise for it that I went out and bought it immediately. But I just couldn't get into it. I tried. About a year later, I tried again. This past September, I thought I'd make a third attempt. I got about 50 pages into it and I was liking it well enough. Shortly after I started, I was visiting my friend B. What did B have on his table but 'Hedgehog'! I mentioned that I had just started and he said, “You HAVE to read this book immediately so we can talk about it! You are going to LOVE it.” B knows me pretty well, so I decided it was time to dive in.
I’m not sure how to describe the book. ‘Beautiful’ is the simplest way, I suppose. It’s a character novel, not a huge plot to speak of and really quite philosophical. Sounds quite boring, doesn’t it? But it’s NOT! It’s just an extraordinary book that made me stop and think. I even dog-eared some pages and highlighted quotes that I loved. I NEVER do this with books. It’s a stunning book that made my cry. Mostly because I knew it was coming to an end. When I closed the back cover, I sobbed. It was positively cathartic. I need to digest it for a few more days, but rest assured, I will be cracking open that front cover in no time and hopefully ruining more pages with folds and notes.
Hedgehog = Happiness.
I hope my story made you smile. Let me know which books bring YOU happiness!
Sometimes happiness comes from something that you thought could only cause you pain. Every now and again, something terrible in life turns into something fantastic that you can’t imagine NOT loving. Sounds like I’m going deep, doesn’t it? Not really. My friends, I’m talking about running.
I don’t think I can put into words how much I HATED running. Not even one short year ago, I despised running with every fibre of my being. I’m not even kidding. It was firmly planted in the #3 spot of things that I didn’t want to do in life. Above running was the dentist in the #2 spot. Number one belongs to dying. So this was the order; dying, dentist, running. Top three things I didn’t want to do. EVER. Even when I did endless weeks of fitness bootcamp, I complained about the warm-up run every single time. Running made my lungs burn and it made my legs hurt. My longest distance ever run was 2k, and that was under GREAT duress. I vowed that I would NEVER run for fun.
In January of this year, my friend Meghan convinced me to take a 5k running clinic. She SWORE I would like it. I SWORE I would not. In fact, I was going to make a point of not liking it. After my first class, I was sore. BUT, I ran further than I ever had and admittedly, I was feeling a little accomplished. After running 3 times a week for 2 weeks, something happened. I started to feel like I could run further and further. My lungs didn’t hurt and the pain in my legs was TOTALLY manageable. I was also introduced to the practice of 10 and 1s. Run 10 minutes, walk 1 minute. Over and over and over again. Brilliant! Every 10 minutes, there was something to look forward to!
A month and a half into the clinic, my instructors told us that registration for Melissa’s Road Race was coming up. 22k. Nope. Not a CHANCE. At that point I couldn’t even run 5, never mind 22. I couldn’t even conceptualize it. BUT, Steph and Cam assured me that I would be ready for it by September. All it took was 2 people to tell me that yep, I sure can run 22k! So, I wrangled in my sister, my aunt and my cousin. We all signed up in February for a race that was 7 months away.
Over the coming months, I finished my 5k clinic, started and finished a 10k clinic and ran two 10k races. In June, I started training for Melissa’s. A half marathon plus 900 meters. Yes, every meter DOES count! That training took up a lot of time, let me tell you. And I LOVED it. Truth be told, I think I loved FINISHING each run, not actually DOING them. I ran long distances, I ran hills, I ran flat stretches, I ran in the rain, I ran in the scorching heat, I ran with music and I ran with ‘my girls’. What’s NOT to love? And all of it was building up to this;
THAT is my bib from Melissa’s. 5575. I ran 22k. Twenty-two LONG kilometers. With me, although ahead of me, were my sister, aunt and cousin. It was freaking AWESOME, despite being one of the hardest things I’ve done. And now, I can’t stop. I’m getting ready to run another half marathon in San Francisco this weekend. I’m signed up to train for another one in February. I’m sure I’ll do another on next fall. In fact, there’s even talk of doing a full marathon in 2012! It’s madness, I tell you. One of the things that I HATED the most in life has become one of the things that I LOVE the most in life. How did THAT happen? I realize that not everybody will share the following statement, but for me, nothing could be truer than this;
Running = Happiness.
I hope my story made you smile. Let me know which activities bring YOU happiness!
We all know how I feel about food. I love it. It’s a good, good thing. Not just because it keeps you alive, but because it makes you happy! For the most part. I’ll admit, there are some ‘necessary evils’ in the food department. And while I do like vegetables and appreciate them, I still always eat them first on my plate. I want to get them out of the way so that I can focus on the GOOD stuff in front of me.
There are a lot of foods that are universally delicious. I think everybody can agree that pasta is fantastic. Simple carbohydrates swimming in some kind of sauce? Oh yeah, that’s good no matter WHO you are. Pizza’s also pretty good. I don’t know a lot of people who don’t like Chinese food. Other dishes are more of an acquired taste. Like sushi. Not everybody’s cup of tea. It’s certainly mine, but lots of people just can’t deal with raw fish. Same can be said about haggis. Come on… who DOESN’T like organ meat all stuffed into a sheep’s stomach?
The thought of haggis used to make me wretch. You just can’t possibly imagine that could taste good. I expect that many people have probably tried haggis on a dare of sorts. Or perhaps they’re Scottish and feel as though they need to re-connect to their heritage. My experience with haggis was nearly 14 years ago. I was working at a pub in Manchester, England on New Year’s Eve. Apparently, serving haggis with neeps and tatties and a dram of whiskey was the tradition. To me, it was revolting. But there was this foolish little ‘haggis dance’ that we did through the restaurant with the chefs and I felt a little pressure. So, I tried it. And you know what? It was AWESOME! I wouldn’t necessarily eat it every day, but I definitely would if I was at a party and wanted to seem like a crazy culinary risk taker ;)
It has recently come to my attention that one of MY East Coast delicacies is considered one of those ‘risky’ dishes. It might shock YOU to read that I MYSELF was shocked to hear that people find the idea of ‘bologna gravy’ revolting. What is WRONG with these (possibly you) people? It’s such a simple, delicious dish. Simply sautee some onions, fry up some chunks of bologna (you can use the all-beef variety, though I’m partial to ‘may contain/and/or’ meat), dust it with flour, cook that for a couple of minutes, add some water or broth and let it thicken. Once that’s done, pour it over potatoes. This is what you get;
Mmmmmmmmmmmm! SO delicious. It is the ULTIMATE comfort food. You can take your mac and cheese ANY day. I’ll take bologna gravy. You need to experience it to understand it. So please, put your preconceived notions and judgements aside and try it. Just once. All of my relatives in the East can’t be wrong…
Bologna gravy made with may contain/and/or meat = Happiness.
I hope my story made you smile. Let me know which foods, conventional or otherwise, bring YOU happiness!
I remember the day I got my first laptop. It was a GREAT day! My parents got if for me when I graduated from college. Oh, it was a very welcome addition to my space! I’d spent the previous 2 years getting through school without a home computer. If I needed that particular brand of technology, I’d have to go over to the college and use the computers. Or, if I was desperate, I could always go upstairs and use my landlady’s computer. But that was really only in VERY desperate times. I couldn’t even tell you how old her model is. In addition to that, waiting for it to load was something that defied our worldly definition of ‘time’.
I didn’t plan on using my new computer for too much. Email, internet, music and pictures. That pretty much sums it up. And for the first little while, I did all of these things with great success. The day came when I got a new camera. Fantastic! It was digital! How easy to transfer pictures onto my computer! Or not. That was the first sign of trouble. I tried many times, but was met with failure each and every time. It kept corrupting my drive. And then, the blue screen of death would appear, riddled with text that my non-techy brain just couldn’t understand. I gave up and decided that I wouldn’t bother with the pictures. They could just stay on my camera.
Next thing to go was my sound card. It started to distort everything. It turned normal songs into something slow motion and, well, a bit demonic frankly. Everything sounded lower, slower, and evil! Clearly my laptop was possessed. But this didn’t always happen with the sound card, only sometimes. A moody demon. They’re the WORST kind. All this meant was that I couldn’t rely on it as my primary source of music. Fine. I have a stereo anyway. Not a huge deal. But then small things started happening. My computer would freeze and not thaw. Or, it would just refuse to download certain items. Sometimes it would just kick me off of the internet. Why? Because my laptop is a jerk.
Last Friday was the final straw. I was mentally preparing myself for my first half marathon, which was to be run the next day. I’d meticulously prepared a playlist for my ipod that would undoubtedly carry me through the 3 hours of running I would have to do. I put in the first cd. I waited. And waited. And waited. And then, I got the blue screen of death. Are you KIDDING ME?!?! From a Metric cd?!?!? Come on! I was SO angry. So, I rebooted. This time the cd actually worked. It started to transfer the songs to itunes. GREAT! I fixed it! Am clearly a technology guru that will be sought out for my cunning computer tricks! And then I got the blue screen of death… again. That was a bad sign. When I tried to reboot, I got some kind of message about a corrupt drive and that I should put in my original system disc. Greeeeeeeat. So, I did that, and I followed their little steps, but do you think my computer would boot up? Nope. I feel like my computer knew that, but just wanted to make a fool out of me.
That was IT! I called the Help Desk, aka my dad, and he said, ‘Sweetie, I think it’s time for a Mac…’ My dad is a diehard Apple guy. Through and through. We never had any other computer in our home growing up. And even now, there will never be a PC to darken the desks or tables of the Howe Household. So, I thought about it, and then I headed to Facebook, thanks to my iphone… NOT my dead computer. Again, a sign from Apple. I spewed messages of hate for my PC and pledged my allegiance to Mac. Yesterday, I followed through with that pledge, and this is the result;
This is my new baby. My MacBook Pro. I feel a little bit bad that such a pricey companion is bringing me such happiness… But I was in an unhealthy relationship with my PC for SO long. I earned this. I deserve it. The keys are so smooth and backlit with the loveliest ‘clack clack clack’ sound… The design so sleek and brushed-aluminum-y… And when I started it up for the first time, it sang to me. It sang to me and it shot stars at me. If that’s not love, well then I don’t know what it is. Judge me if you will, but;
Pretty new MacBook Pro = Happiness.
I hope my story made you smile. Let me know which wonders of technology bring YOU happiness
I think it’s important to keep balance in your life. Sure, be involved in plenty of things, but make sure that you have time to do things just for you. Like blog, for example. Sometimes ‘life’ just takes over. As of late, life has been saying to me, “Listen Howe, I’m going to do things my way. I’m basically just using you right now. You’re not going to like it, but let’s face it, you’re not going to do anything about it. You might as well accept it.”
And I did accept it. I let life take over and just kind of be a jerk. Because life has been a jerk, it’s been a bit more challenging to find those ‘happy’ moments. They’re still there, but jerk life has been telling me that really, I don’t have TIME to talk about these things. Jerk life has been sucking me dry. And then it just becomes a downward spiral where you feel overwhelmed. It’s like having one potato chip. You can’t. When you open that bag, you’re pretty much giving into it. You can TRY to stick it in the cupboard and forget about it, but it calls you. Just like jerk life. You can just try and pretend that things are under control, but not really deal with them. Then those things just take over, even when you try to stick them in the cupboard.
You eventually reach a point where you have to just buck up and get back in the game. And I’m not talking bush league here, I’m talking about the pros. Go for the trophy. The big one that you can drink beer out of. Once you drink that sick, communal, backwash trophy beer, life becomes more vibrant. And good things happen.
Howe threw the chips out of her cupboard and got back in the game. She drank the warm beer and things seemed brighter.
*SWITCHING FROM THIRD PERSON TO FIRST PERSON*
Laughter is what I’m talking about here, gang. I mean, I always laugh. Can’t help it. But for the last couple of months, my laughter has been kind of a reflex. Something is funny so I laugh. But lately, the frequency of my laughter has SKYROCKETED. And it’s been quality. It’s that kind of laughter where your shoulders shake uncontrollably, your eyes close and you can’t even speak. The laughter that comes after you think about something that was said hours before, but it still cracks you up. The laughter that makes your cheeks hurt and your abs sore. And it’s always followed with that, ‘Ahhhhhhhhh!’ sound. SO good. Instant endorphin rush.
It’s all because I drank from this;
That’s right. I drank the grody-to-the-max trophy beer. Best thing in the world for me. It has resulted in nothing but goodness. Stories of pez dispensers, Arnold Shwarzenegger channeling Pink, and unstoppable hurricanes have resulted in sometimes tear-inducing giggle fits. And it’s all because I drank the beer. Which by the way, is much better for you than ‘The Koolaid’.
Communal Trophy Beer = Happiness.
I hope my story made you smile. Let me know which mythical drinks bring YOU happiness!