humor – Page 47 – The only certainty is bad grammar

the shyte my brother and i go through / i rode the dare devil dive

Published: August 26, 2009 / Updated: August 26, 2009 Crystal great america, humor, long

if you’re going to go around picturing my little brother, just take everything you know about me and then move to opposite land (it’s right next to Colbert Nation).

don’t misunderstand, i love him deep-down crazy style. we come from the same twisted homelife, and he’s one of just a few people in the world who can ever know my very core.

but because we are not alike in any practical way, we’ve been through some shyte.

some throwdown, knock down, crying, yelling, I HATE YOU AND HOPE YOU DIE! shyte. the kind of shyte only a brother and sister can experience. and even then, only if they love each other. the kind of shyte that’s led us to not talk for umm, oh, i’d say about the last two years.

except of course, at great america.

at great america, we’re the same.

we ride in the front seat of vertical velocity. we pressure people into going on rides even if they’d rather live in a freezer for seven days than experience them. we even hate the same people – those stupid losers who use the flash pass to cut in line.

and because really, i love him deep-down crazy style, i eat it up.

so when he started suggesting i go on the dare devil dive with him yesterday, i didn’t say a firm NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! like i normally would.

instead, i considered it.

the ride is basically a drop to your death that stops just short of landing you in a casket.

i’d say, about six inches short.

you hook up to some wires and then, while linking arms with your partner, are jerked up about 10 stories high. after a quick confirmation from the people safely on the ground telling you it’s time to FLYYYY!!, you have to pull the rip cord so you can drop to the cement.

did you hear me?

YOU HAVE TO PULL YOUR OWN RIP CORD!

scariest. thing. eva.

let’s be honest, my brother was in charge of that crap. if it were up to me, i’d just make a nice little house up there complete with a loofah and live in it forever because WHY WOULD I FLING MY OWNSELF TO DEATH?

my brother is the kind of guy who’s never scared. the kind of guy who talks casually while in the front seat of a coaster that shoots you toward the sky at 100 mph in less than 2 seconds. the kind of guy who the signs reading “PLEASE STAY SEATED ON THIS RIDE” are meant for.

but on this ride. he was scared. actually, he was terrified.

and so, he was terrified. and i was terrified. and for this moment, we were exactly the same.

while looking down at the cement they had lifted us over, building up to the official “rip cord moment” we examined the little tiny trees, held our breath and tried not to pee right there from 150 feet above the ground.

then, he said to me “why the (swear word) do i have to be the one to pull the (swearing word) rip cord?!” with a panic in his voice i didn’t know was possible.

two seconds after that, he pulled the cord.

and two seconds after THAT the worst was over.

we had done it.

holy fricking crap.

we had just fallen to near death and lived to talk about it.

HOLY CRAP!

wow.that.was.crazy.i.can’t.believe.i.did.that.and.didn’t.die.omg.omg.omg.we.did.it!!

FOR REAL!

the two of us flew back and forth for a few minutes, and each of realized then that we really COULD do anything in life we wanted to.

and i finally felt at peace with him again.

nobody else we know has done that. nobody else we’re related too can understand that moment.

just him. and me.

and in this way, we are again, exactly the same.

i’d say it was totally worth it.

last time i was here, i was 25.

Published: August 24, 2009 / Updated: August 24, 2009 Crystal humor, im cool, medium

so, do i look older?

it’s cool, you can be honest. (not really).

technically, i was 25 years, 364 days, 20 hours in this picture, but you get the idea. (i’d take a fresh one now, but i worked all day and im not wearing any silver clothing or pretty eye makeup and nobody wants to see that).

i don’t see any wrinkles. and i think the hair dye effectively covers the grays.

i could totally pass for a solid 24. right guys?

right?!!

so far, this whole 26 thing pretty much feels exactly like the whole 25 thing, except for that nagging, “you should have your life together a bit more by this point” crap i keep hearing in the back of my mind, but im getting pretty used to ignoring that.

no new privileges come with 26. no exciting milestones, or fabulous parties or instant wisdom.

it’s just one of those birthdays in my 20s that gets me a step closer to the big 3-0.

it’s the kind of age people forget when you tell them. the kind of age that just gets classified as “20s.” how old are you? oh. me? im twenty-blah-blah, is all anyone hears. to them 26, 27, 28. eh. it’s all the same.

my grandma told me yesterday, that for many years she was “26.” you know, until her kids got old enough that people started questioning when exactly she got knocked up and how she’d gotten through puberty so early.

if it’s a good enough age for her to lie about though, it’s good enough for me to actually BE i guess – for a couple years anyway.

My last day as a 25-year-old

Published: August 22, 2009 / Updated: August 22, 2009 Crystal humor, im cool, medium

holy crap. 26 doesn’t count as “late 20s” right??

right?

im pretty sure im still in my “mid 20s.” RIGHT?!

birthday sigh.

life is hard.

tomorrow i’ll officially be just 24 years away from 50.

plans include church and then lunch at olive garden with the family and then maybe some Mad Men after that. im telling you thisbecause it seems to be everyone’s favorite question when i tell them Sunday is my birthday. i say “ya, my birthday is sunday” and they say “oh. what are you doing for the big day?” and then i watch the look of disappointment come over their faces when they realize i consider going to the olive garden to be exciting enough to do on my birthday.

have you people never tried their breadsticks?! i mean, for salad’s sake they’re FREE!

so anyway. ya. im not sure if i’ve turned into the 26-year-old i saw in my head back when i was picturing those sorts of things as though 26 was SO OLD.

i mean, i’ve got a job in the thing i (mostly) love, and it’s in the chicagoland area to boot – a dream that seemed impossible just a few short years ago.

on the other hand, im not like “financially stable” or anything.

i live in a great place with jill (who writes the nicest things about me that you can read here) and it comes with a garage, and a laundry room and a dog.

but, well, if for some reason jill ever decides to move, my butt would be living in a tent before i could say “black jack.”

i have an awesome phone and a (mostly) running car and even a fantastic blog (if i do say so myself).

but my mom pays my phone bill (thanks mom), my car sometimes sounds like a spaceship, and well. ya. actually my blog is pretty fantastic, isn’t it? 🙂

over the last year ive lost a gall bladder, gained some earrings and learned how to be a youth group leader at my church. i’ve been blond, brunette and somewhere in between. i’ve stayed in the same house for almost 12 straight some months (you owe me $10 steve). and i’ve met my hero. (dooce).

i’ve managed to not get laid off in the worst recession EVER. (knock on wood). (no. seriously. please knock on some wood). (thanks). ive worked johnny depp into about 5,826 conversations. and ive created a pretty great vegan chocolate chip cookie recipie despite the fact that i’ve also decided i love cheese way too much to be vegan.

there was good and there was bad, but if you measure success by whether or not i made it to the other side, then id have to say year 25 was a success.

here’s looking to you 26. hope you don’t suck.