things I’d do with money.

I’m 2,469 miles over due for an oil change.

My car mirror is being held on with packaging tape.

None of my clothes (bras) fit. I don’t even care that you think it’s annoying that the girl who lost weight is complaining about clothes not fitting because I’ll tell you what’s really annoying – MY CLOTHES NOT FITTING!

My blonde hair looks half brown and those roots aren’t just going to just dye themselves.

The insoles of my gym shoes are half gone. And I still walk four miles a day in them.

I’ve got $148 left to pay off on my gall bladder surgery.

My weekly tithe has dropped to an embarrassing $15 a week.

I’ve been wearing my two-week contacts for the last seven-to-ten weeks.

– “How to become a millionaire. Step 1: Get a million dollars.”

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Dear Bears,

Dear Chicago Bears,

Wow.

Wha? Ha?

Why do you hate me?

Ok. I understand, this isn’t about ME. But seriously, you’re ruining my precious Sundays.

All right. Fine. I’ll take partial blame for that 104-3 (ish) loss last week. You’re right, I wasn’t watching, and you guys rely on my good-vibes to win these games. I’m sorry about that.

It’s just that I thought checking the score every three seconds via ESPN on my crackberry would be enough. I realize now, that it wasn’t. Umm, dudes, every time I loaded the score the other team had a million new points, and you guys had 3.

In the past, I might have taken this whole thing up with Jay Cutler. After all, he’s supposed to be Jesus Christ in a jersey – it’s in his contract. And his initials.

But I’ve accepted that he’s not. Trust me. He’s proven that over. and over. and over. He’s no where NEAR Jesus. or Favre. Or Manning.

I get it.

But a loss this horrid is on all of you. ALL. OF. YOU.

Call me idealistic, but I tend to believe that any team can get the W next to a game as long as they try hard enough and work together. It’s the American way. Any girl can get any guy. Anybody can become president. And any team can win any game. (See: Super Bowl circ. 2008)

But you weren’t even TRYING Sunday. I watched the lowlights. I know. See, I’m not expecting you to win all the time. I’m just expecting that you’ll keep it within a 30-point spread.

And that means you HAVE to try. Every play. Every drive. Otherwise the other team wins – as you may have noticed.

Now, don’t think I’m giving up on you guys. Far from it. I still have faith in Lovie Smith (with a name like “Lovie” how could I not?) And I still think you have potential. After all, you beat the Steelers and the Steelers beat the almighty Vikings. Basic math tells you that means you could, in theory, one day beat the Vikings. (I kinda hope that one day is two days – Nov. 29 and Dec. 28).

Also, you have some home games coming up, and they’ll be plenty of good vibes to feed off of (which I know you like).

But just in case you were confused as to how this whole football thing works – people start hating you when you lose by anything more than say, 3 points. And I don’t want people to hate you. I want them to love you.

So I will make a commitment to watch every game, if you, in turn, will commit to two simple things: Trying really hard, and drinking Red Bull at the half. And the start. And at the 2-minute warning.

I think it’ll work.

And if not, there’s always next year.

(A little less) love,

Crystal

p.s. None of this applies to Robbie Gould. He’s still awesome. That is all.

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Haunted things scare the poop out of me.

Took while running for my life. Ish.

I would like the official record of all records to show that I TOLD THEM I was scared of haunted things.

I clearly explained to my two friends that I don’t watch scary movies. ever. that I haven’t been in a haunted house in at least 12 years. and that I DON’T LIKE WALKING DEAD PEOPLE.

But they didn’t listen. or maybe they didn’t believe me. or maybe they like watching me have panic attacks amongst strangers who later tell their friends about the crazy girl in the fuchsia jacket they saw at great america.

whatever it was, a few hours into our trip to Fright Fest, I was walking through a haunted trail. The kind of trail that you wouldn’t think would be very scary in the broad freaking daylight we walked through it in. The kind of trail that’s supposedly so un-scary that it’s not even the main attraction. No, it LEADS to the main attraction – a $10 per person haunted house. (you can bet your sister’s trick-or-treat  candy I didn’t go in that crap)

umm, HOLY MOTHER OF MOTHERS AND FATHERS!!!!!

Deep breath Crystal. It’s ok now. It’s all over. You’re safe at home. You’re safe. At home.

Ok. Sorry. I’m back. All right, let’s start with the people dressed as bushes.

They flipping jump out of nowhere in a way that should be illegal. One’s sitting on the side all “look at me. You can see me. I can’t scare you. I’m a nice man-bush.” and then.

BAM! (that’s right. BAM!. in bold).

another man-bush on the right jumps out of freaking nowhere. literally. he uses a nowhere-appearing device and then jumps.

Luckily, the people behind me were well aware of this though, because I kindly screamed louder than a bullhorn to alert them.

Call it the Christian in me. I don’t know. I guess I’m just nice like that.

Moving on.

There are people dressed as murderers who follow you around.

Well, mostly they just followed me around.

but MURDERERS?!!

what the crap?

And one of my friends actually said, “Crystal, the more you freak out, the more they are going to bother you.”

And I was all “Umm, kind sir, I’m pretty sure we left logic and common sense on the ground back at the man-bushes, so just GET ME OUT OF HERE!”

At one point a woman with a frying pan that may or may not have been inserted into some of her organs realized that I was freaked the F out and started following us. And I swear to Halloween that I panicked so bad that I don’t have a full memory of what I’m told I did next.

I thought that I kindly walked past a crowd of people and ran for my life.

Apparently though, I barged into a random couple, pushed the girl away with strength usually reserved for lifting mattresses and then grabbed the guy’s arm for protection.

In my defense, I kind of thought I was about to be killed by a bloody frying pan.

For real.

I did.

The random girl was not so much sympathetic though. And umm, I do kinda remember looking back at people as I ran away and wondering why they were giving me looks of damnation, when I had clearly just saved myself from an impending death and warned them of theirs.

AND THEN!

the stupid frying pan murderer pointed me out to her stupid murderer friends.

SHE POINTED ME OUT!

How the crap am I supposed to live through this trail when they are conspiring against me?

There was the random olden-time girl who, I swear to you, came up and whispered “I want to kill you.”

WHO SAYS THAT?

I’LL TELL YOU WHO!!

A MURDERER!!!

what the crap? This is a FAMILY attraction.

Then, I had to get past the man who passive aggressively explained that he wanted to cut off my head and then use my hair for some sort of wig.

Again. FAM.ILY park.

When I finally made it out alive, I promise you I was sweating like someone in a sauna, and my heart was beating faster than vertical velocity and I couldn’t breathe.

and HOLY CRAP THAT WAS SCARY.

alas, my tale doesn’t end there. No. they had stupid scary clowns just walking around scaring people near the Batman ride at night.

Let’s just say I ran into the Johnny Rockets restaurant and sorta started crying.

For real.

And I would have jumped behind the food counter if I’d had to in an effort to get away from those clowns. I am not even lying one single ounce.

Calm. Deep breathe crystal. It’s all going to be all right now.

Basically, I’m saying that all that crap you hear about facing your fears and taking a leap is just that.

Crap.

Panic attacks are just not worth it.

Unless of course, I’m trying to convince you to go on a roller coaster. Because if you’re scared of that, I’ll likely have to call you a lame-0 loser behind your back.

True story.

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