There's something so peaceful about not talking and silence. It's not that I don't have anything to say; it's just freeing not having to share every thought that pops into my head. There's some sort of pleasure I get out of not being forced to make small talk, not forced to laugh at any stupid jokes, just to be quiet. It's a lot harder than it sounds living in this world where everyone needs to know what you're thinking and why. I feel like everyone's so caught up on expressing and sharing their "feelings" that suddenly you forget to actually experience them for yourself. You're forced to breath your emotions.
Why are people so frightened by silence? It's something I look forward to everyday. I feel with silence you get to actually experience things for what they are instead of listening to sound cues to judge what your reaction should be. When you're free of noise/sound suddenly everything seems so much louder.
Walking Sidewalks
Ah yes, the beauty of the walking sidewalk randomly placed throughout airports, but what purpose do they really serve? Yes, they give you super hero walking speed, yet they are only 2 feet long. Okay, 2 feet may be an exaggeration, but really they're never long enough to truly get you anywhere. After two steps you're back on solid ground and feel as though you've gained all gravity back. There is a certain appeal about the walking sidewalk though and God forbid if anyone just gets on it and stands there. "Really? These are meant to give you two super speed walking strides! Yes, just two, but you're just standing there?! Drunk!" It instantly makes me angry when I see the people just stand on walking sidewalks. It feels like a waste; they'd be the people with cool powers that would just stand there saying, "Oh X-ray vision? Yeah I got that, but I want to fit in and seem normal." Waste. Get off my walking sidewalk you wasteful turd.
Stages of Sickness
Every time I get sick there is always those stages I expect. First off --and my least favorite is --the sore throat. Then the itchy throat and eyes, running nose, and last is usually the cough. Then there is that other stage I always forget about, which happens to be the most challenging. Mouth breathing. There is no way around it as your nose is fully clogged up and every attempt to nose breath has you gasping for air. The very act of mouth breathing is so unflattering it makes you feel like a 300 pound fat man gulping down air. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Maybe I"ll try to breath through my nose...barely get a suck of oxygen. Gulp. Let's not forget the challenge of eating while mouth breathing. Every bite you take is like a test to see how long you can hold your breath and if you even think to savor any part of the food for too long you find yourself sucking in air after the fact. Or of course there is the other option to sloppily chew with your mouth open, which solidly fits with the fat man attitude. Whatever sickness it may be I always love finally get over the mouth breathing phase where I can enjoy eating without gulping down air.
Night Vacuuming
You know what I've always wondered about? Why are there lights on some vacuums? Is this for when you're vacuuming at night and don't want to wake anyone up? "Oh no I can't possibly vacuum right now because I'll wake everybody up by turning on the lights!" Guess again dear friend; there is a light put so conveniently on the vacuum for that! For we all know that it will be turning lights on that wakes everyone up in the house when you're trying to night vacuum. Not the vacuum roaring itself. That is all. Clean on you night vacuumers!
“JEREMIAH WAS A BULLFROG”...“BUD UP BUP”
It’s funny that when you get older you think back on the things you used to do. Most of the time, my thoughts consist of “what the hell was I thinking?!” But nonetheless, they make for great stories. My friend Abby and I ALWAYS sang together when we would ride the bus to school. We were middle school age—you know the worst time to be “different” in school—and we were just that; “different.” For how shy we were in actuality, when we were together it was like no one was around. Every morning was like an “act” for us. We sang Joy to the World (aka Jeremiah was a Bullfrog), classic hits from Grease, and other various songs that just seemed out of place to be belted out in the early hours of the morning on a bus.
I was in charge of singing the main lyrics as Abby added the backup parts to the song… Me: “JEREMIAH WAS A BULLFROG” Abby: “BUD UP BUP” Me: “WAS A GOOD FRIEND OF MINE” Abby: “BUD UP BUP” etc etc… I even recall looking up the lyrics to some of our songs just to make sure we were performing at our best. Yes, we were that awesome.
Everyday we would belt out these songs thinking we were the only ones that heard them.
Random kid: “Ummm can you sing a little softer?”
Us in response: “WHAT?! We’re not even singing that loud!”
Yes, other kids on the bus would ask us to sing quieter. Yes, we were putting on an act for the whole bus and we never realized it…until we were older. Had we had known that, we probably would have never sang because that was just out of place for us two shy girls. Still to this day—yeah I said that like I’m super old— whenever I hear any of those songs I always think back to the bus and all the kids we probably annoyed the hell out of. Success.
Pavlovs Dog & Weird Habits
You know how over time things just become habit? Kind of like Pavlov’s Dog where sometimes you don’t even realize they are habit? Well, I am so used to getting in my car a certain way that it has become habit for me. Weird right? Getting into the car? Habit? Are you drunk?! Yes, these are all relevant questions to the habit of getting in the car. I never realized it was a habit of mine until the day came where I had to get into the passenger’s side of my car. My mom was going to drive my car because I had my hands full and just didn’t feel like driving. She gets in the drivers side and I try to get into the passengers side. This could quite easily have been a “Peter Griffin” moment or a “special person” moment for me.
Haunted House
If you know me, you know I like to scare people and play pranks. So it wouldn’t be a shock that one of my favorite jobs I’ve had was being a “monster” at a haunted house. The pay was only $20 a night, it was 5 minutes down the road from our house and they fed us pizza. Quite the gig if you ask me. The other benefit was two of my sisters and two of my friends worked there too, so between scares we would run into each other’s rooms just to dance and goof off. Also I was always this old man mask so, with my height (5ft exactly) and my fabulous dance moves; I was quite the sight to see.
Yes, it was an amazing job, but it did have its downfalls. One of them being the late hours… Lucky for me the room I “scared in” had a mantle piece that I would lay across and sleep on. I don’t know how I managed to not fall off of that 12 in mantle piece and was never discovered sleeping, but let that tell you, I obviously had some amazing skills. The other (more humorous) downfall of being a “monster” was the fact that people always called my sister, Angie, and I, midgets. Sure sure in most peoples’ minds if you’re 5ft tall or you have to look down at the person then that = midget (when in actuality the midget cutoff is 4.11 in). So I can understand the difficulty in distinguishing the few inches of the midget cutoff, especially when we were in masks, which could have as likely made us 12 year olds or dwarfs…but no, we were midgets.
As most people would—or at least the people in my family—Angie and I came up with a few ideas in reputable to being called “midgets.” The first was entirely Angie’s idea. In our “scare room” there was a staircase that gradually got smaller the closer you got to the top (kind of like the hallway in Willy Wonka). Well anyways, when people would start walking through our room Angie would stand up at the top of the staircase repeating, “I’M A GIANT! I’M A GIANT!” And would mosey on down the stairs to the people. I found this quite humorous because the people walking through would see how crammed she was at the top and then she’d walk down the stairs for them to discover she’s a quarter of their size. “Wait, wasn’t she saying I’M A GIANT?” Clever.
But our best idea to the “midget” name-calling was the totem scare. That’s right, the totem scare. The totem scare was one hell of a process and it took awhile for Angie and I to perfect it. First we would wait to hear people coming, run to the staircase, I get on Angie’s shoulders, and the really tricky part; balance. Our first run of the totem scare did not go so smoothly. We heard the people coming, ran to the stairs, I got on Angie’s shoulders, and as the people were walking in…we fell to the floor and laid there laughing. “Umm should we come back in?” Was their response – as we both still laid there laughing. “Yes, let’s try this over again,” we told them. So they went back in the hallway and we “re-hid” to scare them.
Being a “monster” is a job I will never forget and one that I still practice to this day; in front of the mirror, with friends and family, and yes, of course…scaring strangers. Also, I have perfected my ability to stand like a statue and will be adding it onto my resume skills.
Heal Kick in Dress: Awesome Move Right?!
Growing up in my family we always had random dance parties. It was inevitable, someone would put on some music, move the couch, and all us sisters would gather to dance. One particular day I thought, “Hell yeah I’m going to spruce up this dance party and put on a dress.” I know, I legit thought that. So up I run to join the fabulous dance party with my sisters in my long dress. We’re all throwing down new dance moves and I have another awesome idea; “Heal Kick Baby!” Caught up in the moment I kick up my right leg only to have the sudden realization of this horrible heal kick idea. The long dress tugged and whipped my left leg out from under me, for me to fall flat on the floor. Then there’s that awkward moment where everyone looks at you after doing something stupid and you try to play it off like “Yeah wasn’t that cool?!” So that’s exactly what I did. I got up, still dancing, and gave my sisters the look like “Awesome move right?!”
Eh…at least I can make myself laugh.
Howard & the Fart
My friend Kristen and I did a huge presentation back in high school about the history of snowboarding. We had to have judges come in to rate us on our knowledge of the material and just our overall presentation. Well from that day we got offered jobs to be snowboard instructors and we gladly took up the offer. We instructed at Mad River Mountain and learned a lot from the job and have many memories from working there. One such memory will always be in my “highlight reel” of memories that continues to play through my head. (If you know me and wonder why I always laugh to myself…this explains it.)
Okay, so on with the story. Kristen and I always signed up to work a double shift for one day a week, instead of driving an hour twice a week for just one shift—that’s outrageous! We worked the night shift from 5pm-10pm and then the second shift being Midnight Madness from 12am-3am. Between the two shifts the slopes would close down to be re-grooved and Kristen and I would always sit around waiting until our next lesson call. Being that we had nothing to do, one of our coworkers, Howard, offered that we come watch a movie with him and his family in their cabin that was at the top of the slopes. So we ride up the chair lift, ride down through the trees rushing past us, and we’re there in two seconds. How awesome. We walk in and meet his wife and son and then start to get comfortable. Kristen and I make claim on the empty couch. Score. Howard starts to lie down on the floor to get comfortable and while he does, rips a fart, to which he responds, “Excuse me.” We all laugh; Me, Kristen, his wife, and his son (who smacks his head in embarrassment) and then Howard rips another fart. “Excuse me.”
I don’t know what it is, but when I know I need to stop laughing it only makes me laugh harder.
Caught up in my laughing fit, I tried to drink some water thinking, “This will force me to stop laughing!” But it only made matters worse. I then started to choke on the water. At this point I could not even look at Kristen because I know she would make me laugh even more, and it was that point where everyone else had stopped laughing. This was torture. I then forced myself to watch the movie, not looking at Kristen or Howard—because that would trigger the memory instantly—and I literally tried not to think about the events that had just happened because it would start another laughing fit.
I don’t know if it was Howard’s nonchalance with ripping farts or just the fact that Kristen and I were really tired, but that was definitely a funny moment.
Andrea & the Mole
So every couple of years my family takes a vacation together; this includes 12 adults and 10 kids…in short, the typical Italian family size. We usually head south to either North Carolina or South Carolina and spend 10 days in pure relaxation, good times, and the creation of many memories. Oh, and of course we always drive. On this particular drive down to pure bliss vacation time, the weather was quite drab and was rainy, windy, and gloomy; just all the horrible weather conditions imaginable to drive in. Therefore, we decide to make a stop about half way through the drive and to get a hotel for the rest of the day. We are all so grateful for the break from, not only driving through all the horrible weather, but also to get out of the car and to stretch.
Quickly we grab the bags we need, find our rooms, and start getting settled into our rooms. We continue to meander between the two rooms to joke around with everyone and to see if anyone needs help with anything. [If you have ever seen the movie Home Alone and all the commotion that goes on with their family traveling and doing stuff; this is kind of like my family.] Anyways, as we are all getting settled and the rain continues to pound outside, my sister Andrea lingers in the doorway to chat while we’re all moving around doing what we’re doing. I stand on the other side of the room, observing everyone and everything and just joking around. All of a sudden, Andrea screams and sprints across the room to jump up on the bed, while my Dad frantically kicks at something. If I were a gymnast judge, I would score Andrea with an 8 for speed and maneuverability to the bed.
What the hell was going on??? Andrea then says, “When I was standing over by the door I felt something touching my foot. Thinking Dad was playing a joke on me I thought nothing of it, until I saw Dad across the room I realized this was not the case. I looked down to see a MOLE!” That’s right, one of those hideous blind, dirt dwellers had made it’s way into our room, trying to escape the down pour of the rain only to “playfully” scratch at my sister’s foot. My Dad had gotten rid of the mole and the room just filled with the boom of laughter after Andrea had told everyone what just happened. I am so gratefully that it was Andrea that had gotten the special touch of the mole and not I!
Tae Kwan Doe vs. Karate
Everyone knows how sibling rivalry can be, “I’m better at [fill in whatever you desire] than you are!” Well, being that I have five sisters this wasn’t necessarily a problem we had. Until the day my sister, Annette, was in Tae Kwan Doe and I was in Karate. It was around Christmas time, Annette was in college and I was probably a freshman in high school. We were all sitting around chatting, my cousin visiting and goofing off with Annette, and some how the topic of martial arts was brought up. You could feel the tension in the air as my sister and I began our debate. “Tae Kwan Doe is so much better than Karate because blah blah blah!” “No, Karate is better because blah blah blah!” [No conditioner is better I make the hair silky smooth! For all you Billy Madison fans out there…you are welcome.] So with much debate and argument we decided to put our martial art skills into use. When I come to think about it, I really don’t think either of us really used any martial art skills rather than just wrestle and try to throw one another onto the ground. So after much wrestling, Annette throws me down and starts to walk away victoriously. “Oh no, she’s not getting off that easy.” I think. I charge towards Annette and BAM! She does an old back kick to my nose. My thoughts? “Oh shit this hurts!” and “Oh shit I’m going to cry!” Well me being the person I am—not liking to cry in front of anyone—announce how I am “Suddenly really tired,” and make a dash to my room so I can cry in privacy. My sister knowing this fact about me, follows me to my room to assure that I am “okay” and of course prove that “Tae Kwan Doe is better.” To this day my nose still feels, “taunt” every now and then and I will never forget that back kick maneuver she pulled out of nowhere.
I Want Eggs?
It was morning at school and my friend and I were going to get breakfast. Yes, it’s that luxury of being at college when everything is made, you have a meal plan, and you really don’t have to worry/think about the whole process of “what to eat.” So it’s a buffet of all the assorted breakfast foods you can imagine and you tell the person working what you want and they pile it all on the plate for you. There I am, waiting, and I order some scrambled eggs with some hash browns, bacon, etc on the side. My friend comes up to me during me ordering and tells me to order the same for him so I think, “Cool, will do.”
Well, I have to admit sometimes I get caught up in my thoughts and either; forget what I’ve said out loud and in my head, remember only the vague specifics of what people tell me, try to say two words at once; in result making up new “exotic” and highly accented words, or everyone’s favorite: I think that I know what I’m going to say next, so I “zone out” from what to say next because my thought is, “my brain can fill in the blanks.” Yeah, if you have ever spent a good amount of time around me I am sure you have experienced one of these cases first hand…and you’re welcome!
Okay, so back to the story. I am standing there holding my plate, trying to remember what my friend had told me to add to his eggs and the man starts to hand me the plate. Caught up in my thoughts I look at all the breakfast choices thinking, “No, he didn’t say pancakes. No, don’t say sausage. Focus Ali, you can remember this!” And what do I say? “I want eggs?” The man stands there holding out a plate of eggs and just stares at me with the expression of “Seriously?”. My friend happens to walk up in this moment and cracks up at the situation and clarifies, “No, she meant to say add some hash browns, bacon, etc.” Yes, another classic moment for me, but that’s just how I am.
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