Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Last night Alex and I watched a documentary called Gangland, about you guessed it, Gangs (oh and by the way, if you didn't "guess it" feel free to pretend you did). So anyways, although this documentary was disturbing and intense, it surprisingly reminded me of 3rd grade. Now before you get any cooky thoughts like "I had no idea you were in a gang in 3rd grade" or that I had a "disturbing and intense year of 3rd grade" I would like to let everyone know I had a delightful and gang free 3rd grade. That said let's make the connection, shall we? Ok so in 3rd grade I was briefly friends with a girl named Jennifer Crabtree.
One day Jennifer came over to my house after school. There we were sitting on the front porch, when Jennifer gave me my first tutorial on gangs. To make this story resinate in your mind, you will need a visual of who Jennifer was. Now Jennifer had that dark red/ brown hair, and freckles like they exploded on her face (do you know what I mean? It was if someone sprayed her in the face with a freckle hose...too close), she was on the plump side, and typically wore sweatshirts with bedazzled decals. Are you with us on the front porch? Great. There we were, when Jennifer turns to me and asks me if I know about "the Bloods, and the Crips?"Apparently her dad worked in a correction facility for teen boys, he was her source of all the information she was to pass on to me (in retrospect, either her dad wasn't her source, her dad was a liar, or her dad some how also happened to be 8 years old).
"Bloods, and the Crips, you mean like poker chips, or potato chips?" I asked. Can you believe I had no idea? Anyways after about 5 minutes I learned everything that I needed to know about the extremely dangerous gangs.
Jennifer, appliqué sweatshirt, freckles and all, tells me the truth about the bloods and the crips. "Emily, I'm not talking about chips, I'm talking about gangs. You see my dad told me, anyone who wears red, is a Blood, and anyone who wears blue is a Crip. If you look a person wearing red, or blue in the eye (it doesn't even have to be the wrong way, because every way is wrong) they will indeed find out where you live... You know what they do next?"
"What?" I say (my voice cracking with fear).
"What happens next, is the bloods, tell all the bloods, and all the crips tell all the crips. " She starts.
"(gulp)ALL the Bloods?" I interrupt.
"Yes, ALL the Bloods in whole world. The bloods go through your front door, and the crips go through the back, and they have a gang fight in your house...It happens all the time in LA."
I promised myself right then and there, while I sat with old freckled faced Crabtree, I would never allow this to happen in my house. If looking a person wearing red or blue in the eyes, meant risking mine and my families lives, let alone a gang fight in my house, I new I needed to take Jennifer's advice to heart. Fortunately there were no gang fights in my house in 3rd grade, or in my life. I guess I should be thanking Jennifer Crabtree for her words of wisdom... not only did she save me, she saved the whole town... now if only she could do an intervention with the city of LA!
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Saw Tooth is at it again. If running an underground neighborhood fight club is wrong, then call him wrong. Not only did he have to get stitches on his paw, he has to wear that blue cone (not to be confused with a bonnet or tea hat). If Saw Tooth could speak, I think he would be screaming at the top of his lungs GET THIS FUCKING THING OFF MY HEAD that or DON'T CALL ME BLUE BONNET! But Saw Tooth, if you are reading this, how do you feel about Baby blue Bonnet? Get back to me, would you?
Last spring when my brother Jonah got engaged, ambitiously my sister and I deemed ourselves table decorating extraordinaire. The idea started out, big, bold, one of kind, like nothing you've ever seen before (naturally). The plan: we were to make ten different dioramas of a different story, of a different memory, of a different element, of Jonah and Jessyka's lives. Imagine, 150 people matching their seating cards to say, "the saw tooth table" a table solely dedicated to their street fighting ragamuffin cat. Don't worry, the list of memories, and moments went on, nine more tables long (it wasn't going to be a cat show by any means). Unfortunately as time went on, and motivation dwindled, the wedding is a month a way and there is no diorama to show. Dear Jonah and Jessyka, I promise you this, you will have your precious decorations, and they wont be in the form of a rock on each table...Love,Emily. That said, will somebody get to work on a diorama of a cat with a black eye? Thanks.