Wake Up, You're Dead

This blog, I fear, has been brewing for a long time and although I'm not yet sure of how I'm going to write it, I'm sure once I get into my groove I'll be almost impossible to stop.

While discovering that tragic events have caused me to want to be closer to those I care about, I'm now finding that I'm losing even more faith in people than I already have. When did people become so evil and vile and inconsiderate? I know I'm too young to walk around lecturing, "back in my day..." but at the same time, when I was growing up I was able to play outside by myself in the neighborhood, ride my bike to elementary school, or play in the street without fear of speeding cars or disgusting kidnappers. Not to say bad things didn't happen, but it's not like today. I wouldn't let my child out of my sight this day in age.

How can people be so horrible?

I've been interested in the Jaycee Dugard case ever since she was found alive 18 years after her kidnapping. I'm interested in how her captors brainwashed her into living in their backyard in tents without trying to escape, I'm interested in what pleasure her captors got out of snatching her and keeping her as their pet. When I got home from work yesterday, the October 26, 2009 issue of People Magazine was on the dining room table with her face on it. The pictures were taken October 11, 2009. Jaycee's smiling at age 29.

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Jaycee and her two daughters, fathered by her captor, are now adjusting to a new life and as curious as I may be, I hope they get to do it in privacy. And I can't stress this enough: This needs to be a movie.

As I kept turning the pages of the magazine it only got more disturbing. A 16 year old girl, her 18 year old best friend and both of her parents were killed by her 20 year old boyfriend (whom she met online) when he got a little jealous over a text message. The article focuses mainly on how the teens were into this horrorcore lifestyle and that was probably partially to blame. He bludgeoned them to death and then remained living in the house with the corpses on the floor for 3 days. The article I read was in People Magazine, but you can read up on her story here.

That article kind of reminded me of another disturbing incident which happened in Europe in 2003 that I read about in the waiting room of a doctors office. A sick boy in England pretended to be a whole slew of different people in an internet chatroom to plot his own murder with an innocent chatter. It's very intricate, complicated, confusing and nothing less than interesting, and it can be read here. Again, a movie, please!

Anyway, I'm losing faith in people in general. There are some really disturbed people out there and it only gets worse with time. It kind of makes me want to lock myself in my house because lord knows when a friend will get upset because I forgot to put them on my top friends list on Myspace and they stab me to death.

Silly Dream: Let This Be A Lesson To Ya

I'm a huge fan of dreaming. I do it every night and I remember most of the details of every one. I also dream in color, so whoever said people don't dream in color is a moron. Moving on.

I don't share most of my dreams, there would be too many and they usually make more sense in our heads than they do when we try and verbalize them. This one, however, is a true gem. Feast your eyes:

I found a way to get Ryan Buell in Ft. Lauderdale, more specifically, my house. The details of how I did this are the part I can't remember, but I'm going to assume that I somehow used Alan as an excuse, as he's a skeptic and Ryan hunts ghosts. Friggen perfect, because now I can turn on my charm and get a few dates, or at least a run in the sack. The only problem? I failed to remove the hand-made mobile dangling from my bedroom ceiling that boldly displayed "Alicia <3 Ryan." (note: said mobile does NOT exist, there is no Ryan merch anywhere in my room unless you count his face on my desktop, cell phone and that dumb face-in-a-hole picture I created for fun located on my Facebook).
How could I have not taken that down?! Of course it ruined me, Ryan now knows that I'm a super fan (not to be confused with Sarafan) and he was angry! Before I knew it, he was kanoodling with another girl! Fury!

Moral of the story: Take down your Backstreet Boys, Hanson, Michael Phelps, Zac Efron, Michael Bublé (you get the point) pictures, posters and pathetic-grams because you never know when they'll end up in your bedroom. That goes for you, Allison.

Adventures of A&A: Kryptonite

"A day in the life of a girl and her wife."

Allie: i just bought jewrag a sugarfree apple pie
Alicia: LMAO
Alicia: god damn he's so fucking cute
Alicia: i wanna eat 'em
Allie: hahaha
Alicia: i love them all
Alicia: good job, allison
Alicia: you unleashed your secret weapon and have now discovered my weakness
Allie: muaahhhahahaha
Allie: egggsellent

*cue evil theme music*

Movie Review: Paranormal Activity

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So this post is going to be fairly sort and sweet because I don't really have much to say on the subject.

Last night I saw Paranormal Activity and of course as a huge horror/thiller buff, I liked it regardless. I'm hopelessly biased. However, for all the hype it's gotten, I expected more. The idea of the story is genius: take a Blair Witch type of shoot to document a woman being tormented by a demon. The acting was good, I've seen better, but good. It was fairly easy to determine that this was, indeed, scripted. I also noticed (at least with the copy I had watched) that they didn't roll any credits as to solidify the fact that it was a real documentary - nice touch!

In all, great idea and although it won't be original, I predict a better version of this story (or a similar one) will be shot and released which I patiently await!

I'm Alive

It's always been said that flight is the safest form of travel. Statistically, this may be so, however soaring through the sky in a 200,000 lb airbus leaves me less than assured. I've always had recurring dreams of plane crashes: planes blowing up, planes plummeting, all sorts of scenarios and locations but all with one thing in common - I'm never on the plane. In my dreams I'm always witnessing the tragic event from a distance (not necessarily a safe one) and I'm always okay at the end. I chalk the dreams up to having a fear of the unknown. I don't understand how these heavy pieces of metal can stay up in the air without coming down. Hello, Newton and gravity.

I've also always been a great traveler in spite of these somber dreams, but I'm noticing as I get older, the less of an ideal traveler I become. I've started a tradition of kissing my hand and placing my kiss on the left side of the plane as I enter making sure to protect the flight (ha). I also make sure to say hello to the captains and to thank them as I exit - they're very special chauffeurs.

Needless to say, upon departing New York on the 21st, I lugged my Orange County Choppers duffle bag (mental note: invest in a duffle bag that has wheels) onto the airbus, somehow mustered up the strength to get it into the overhead compartment and took my seat in aisle 8 at the window. Not long after, a nice older gentleman took his seat in the aisle and we celebrated the empty chair between us as the plane doors closed and we backed out to take off.

I'm used to flying at night, so being able to wear sunglasses on the plane was like a special treat and I bounced my head happily as I stared out the window and lip synched to the XM Country station. Before long, the captain announced that we would soon be starting our descent and would be landing at FLL in 35 minutes. It was then that the plane started lowering into the clouds and I glanced out there curiously like a small child on her first flight.

What's the worst thing that could happen to a nervous flyer? Turbulence. I take a deep breath and continue back-seat driving. I noted the color of the clouds which were dark and  that alone gave me the indication that we were flying through rain clouds. Fine, okay. Suddenly, the plane drops. Even through my earbuds I can hear the screams of the other passengers. Simultaneously my fellow flyers and I all grabbed for whatever we could to keep us in our seats. Did you know that the first thing people instinctively try to hold is the ceiling? Neither did I until Tuesday. The plane regains control of its surroundings and we continue our descent.

I turn up the volume a little more on the XM radio. Could there be a better time for irony? Kenny Chesney, "I'm Alive" featuring Dave Matthews began to play. I laugh out loud and put my head back on the chair. Again, the plane drops and screams of horror drown out the soothing sounds of the lullaby. Although this felt like a terrifying roller coaster, there were no tracks. This time my arms went behind me and I grabbed the back of my own seat, meeting the hands of the gentleman behind me who also latched onto the back of my seat. I look up waiting for the oxygen masks to fall down. Yes, we dropped far. No, I'm not over-exaggerating.  "Flight attendants, please take your seats..." the captain ordered nervously.

THAT'S IT! As the captains regained control of their plane, I grabbed my sweater, buried my face in it and leaned toward the window so my aisle-mate wouldn't witness me cry like an 8 year old. The tears flowed as Kenny and Dave finished their song. I tried not to sniffle loudly and I stealthily let the tears roll onto my sweater. Thank goodness for those sunglasses. I made sight of the runway and muttered, "thank goodness" as the wheels gently touched down. There were some claps and laughs and "thank you Jesus'" throughout the plane.

The gentleman beside me in the aisle turned to me and asked with a smile, "feel better?"
"You heard me?!" I asked embarrassed. He still smiled and shook his head yes. "I'm not a good flyer" I said as I sniffled, no longer caring how loud I was as he already knew of my panic-session. He helped me get my bag down and I waited my turn to exit the plane.

I thanked the captains.

Adventures of A&A: Sleep on Sex

"A day in the life of a girl and her wife."

Allie: ps my sheets are clean
Alicia: hahahaaaaaaaaaaaa
Alicia: that did cross my mind earlier
Allie: hahahahaha

"Quick! What's the Number For 9-1-1?!"

A fair warning: It took me about an hour to type this out as I remember it. I didn't proof read it as I really don't want to think about it anymore, so if there are silly errors, I apologize!
-Lee


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They say that those who are in the emergency profession (EMT's, paramedics, firefighters, police officers) become emotionally numb from the experiences that they encounter throughout their careers and in most cases it's even expected and accepted. Their loved ones support them and understand when they get in their "moods" and they even have psychiatrists on-hand in case of a traumatic event. Even through my 3+ years on and off with my officer I learned to improvise, adapt and overcome (Semper Fi!) the detachment and lack of connection, but now, I'm not so sure I understand.

After work this evening I was driving home my usual way, a straight shot down Stirling Road, the same cars every day. This is ridiculous, we should car pool. There was nothing out of the ordinary, the usual bad drivers and my radio blaring my recent kick: Billy Currington's "Heal Me," Jason Aldean's "Big Green Tractor" and Dierks Bentley's "Come A Little Closer," all of which I play... over and over. 

By the time I got to 90th Ave it was time to restart "Heal Me" so I could try and duet with Billy one more time before arriving home. I know by now to hit "back" on my iPod three times after Dierks to get to my song, which is what I was working on when I hit the aqueduct bridge. Once I made it over the bridge, it was at that time that my overall outlook had changed.

Not to sound tragically poetic, but there he lay. Once I comprehended that there was a young man laying face down in the middle of the road because he had been hit, I immediately pulled over. It had obviously just happened as there was no one else on scene except the driver who hit him, and the man in front of me who saw the accident. I grabbed my phone, shut off my engine and how I managed to even think of locking my door because I was leaving my purse in the car, I'll never understand. I couldn't even figure out how to wake my phone up from sleep mode to dial, what's that number again? 9-1-what? My hands were shaking and I couldn't think. The witness of the accident was on the phone already and all I could hear was the driver in a panic 20 feet away from where the boy lay.

I looked across the street and the victim's friend was pacing and dialing his phone, too. I looked back at the victim and he was starting to bleed pretty badly from his head and face, and the road rash on his dark skin left a layer that was fresh and light pink. It was at that time he started to come to and he lifted his head in what appeared to be an attempt to get up. I quickly ran over and pleaded with him to stay down. Another neighbor who lived on the street apparently heard the collision and ran over with some towels and he was also talking to 911 via his blue tooth headset. He carefully placed the towel under the boy's face so he wasn't directly on the concrete and it quickly started soaking up the blood. 

Onlookers started to pile around, but not too close. Some were directing traffic around us as to not cause any more harm to anyone, including the victim. The boy's young, scared friend ran over to ask us, phone in hand, "is he alive?" Even though his friend was alive, my heart sank. One minute they're skateboarding on the street, the next minute things are so hectic that he didn't even know if his buddy was breathing. I think it was about that time that I heard him tell the operater that they're both 15 years old. It was apparent that the victim had no idea what was going on, we didn't expect anything else, but he began convulsing and contorting his body. "He's going into shock!" a bystander shouted. Not too long after, a young girl who was a paramedic ran onto the scene and began talking to him and putting pressure on his head. Luckily we managed to keep him down until the paramedics arrived. 

At one point, I don't even know when in between all of the madness, I looked over at the driver who was standing alone with her arms crossed and an obvious look of sorrow on her face. She was young, late 20's so I could only imagine what she was feeling. I made my way over to her and asked her if she was okay to which she quickly replied, "no!" and began crying. I gave her a hug and I played with her hair as she was voluntarily sobbing her story on what happened. "I mean, his head imprint is in my car!" she cried out as she pointed to her windshield. Sure enough, on the passenger side of her windshield was a huge hole, glass cracked and the passenger side mirror behind us on the ground. 

Within what seemed like hours but was probably only a matter of minutes, every Cooper City sheriff and an ambulance and fire truck were on scene to take over. The boys clothes were cut off, and he was eventually carefully loaded onto a stretcher and sped away to the hospital. Apparently the witness had the boy's panic-stricken friend call the mother to tell her that he was conscious, but he had been hit and to be ready to meet him at the hospital. She made it to the scene in time to meet the ambulance before he was loaded and gone. 

We stood around and had our conversations with the investigating officers while the firemedics cleaned the blood and clothing off of the street. The kind neighbor with the towels had disappeared and so did the heroic paramedic girl. Then we finally had enough time to catch our breath and wipe the sweat off of our faces to actually have a conversation with each other.


It was funny - we all spoke of the boy, how it happened, why it happened, why it shouldn't have happened and how we're not going to let it happen to our own children. We talked about how close we all live to each other and how long we've been here in the neighborhood. I never heard a "great job" or a "thank you." It wasn't left out in a rude way, but more of a "we did what we had to do and what we wanted to do" fashion. It was already known. 

The lead investigator finished his reports and granted us permission to leave while the other officers kept the road closed until we could safely pull our vehicles off from the side and back in the direction we were originally heading - home. After the witness pulled away, I drove the 20 feet to where the shaken driver was. I shouted to her to take care and I turned onto my street which was another 10 feet away.

I don't know any of their names.

How can our first responders be so numb? Instead of wanting to pull away from those who care about me, all this experience made me want to do is be closer to those people. Maybe I'm just naive, though. Afterall, this was one accident I pulled over for, our heroes do it every day.

"Feed the Birds, Toppins a Bag"

I love animals and among one of my favorites are birds. I love those dirty, flying rats. I spotted a new friend upon pulling into the parking lot of purgatory aka my job. A hawk of some sort! Gorgeous! (In my best Steve Irwin voice.)

Feel the Growl

It all started one fateful day in 1996 when at age 13 I walked in on my mother watching a hockey game (ha, you thought I was going to say something else, didn't you?!). Confused, I interrupted the fast-paced ice dance with a, "What?! Why are you watching this?!" She laughed and then went on to explain how when she was a child she was forced to watch hockey by her father, so now that our native team had made the playoffs, she thought she'd watch to see what happend. I was naive then because I then, too, thought it was important to watch. In time I would find out that she does that with ALL playoff sports, usually rooting for the underdog if a Florida or Boston/New England team isn't involved. She's a nonconformist like that. 

Ever since then I was hooked, but time was running out! I had to choose a favorite player! But who? I knew nothing of any of them. Afterall, I had been a hockey fan for what, a day? It was then that the announcers began talking of the rookie Radek Dvorak and his 13 goals even though he obviously subconsciously preferred hitting the posts over scoring. "That's him! He's my favorite!"

Here we are, 13 years later and he's still my favorite. Let the record show, though, that it's not because he's any good. I made a commitment to him and by God, I will keep it. I could now go into the Florida Panthers hockey organization and how badly they've screwed up the roster since winning Eastern Conference champions back then in 1996, but that's a different blog. 

I've been to many Panthers events from the party they held at the Miami Arena back in '96 after winning the conference; to NHL Breakout '98 and leaving with a z-ball hit by #5 Gord Murphy; to many autograph signings with former players including John Vanbiesbrouck, Paul Laus, Rhett Warrener, Ed Jovanovski, Robert Svehla, Billy Linsday, Tom Fitzgerald, Ray Sheppard, Radek Dvorak, David Booth (and winning his jersey that same night); to the reunion game in '98 and meeting some of them all over again years later, but there's one even that I haven't had the privilege of attending... until this past Saturday.

Opening night, ladies and gentlemen of the jury (or as it's written in my new favorite language, Stenography, LAIRJ). Could this be true?! I don't recall ever attending an opening night! How exciting! Lots of die-hard fans, lots of give-aways, over-priced food and beer and in this case, lots of losing! As much as I adore my crappy native Florida Panthers, I'm a hockey fan first and foremost so having Brian invite me to go and watch my Panths battle one of my childhood favorite goalies, Martin Brodeur, was a real honour and treat. It means a great deal to me, so I thank him for letting me accompany him and act a fool (I'm a psychopath in a hockey arena). 

On that note, GO PANTHERS! And to the Panthers management and coaching staff: Stop building a team that has potential and then selling them for players with half the talent. You will never get into the playoffs for long (if at all) if this is kept up. Bryan Murray is gone, act like it. 

Godspeed. 

Conformist!

I am a lot of things: Lazy, smart, boring, fun, practical, logical, silly, skinny, passive, agressive, passive-agressive, contradictory, witty, charming, sarcastic, caring, careful, aloof, deep, sentimental, loud, fearful, grateful, opinionated, stubborn, adaptable, original, ordinary, quick, slow, compliant, picky, fickle, simple, complicated, athletic, prideful, shameful, among countless other adjectives.

I will do many things to please another person. I will help when I don't want to help, I will eat where I don't want to eat, see movies I don't want to see, go to the bar I don't want to drink at, hang out with the people I don't want to hang out with among countless other scenarios,

but     I     p  r  o  m  i  s  e,

I will NOT share a part of me I'm not comfortable with. If I show you love, compassion, sensitivity, adoration, mercy, faith, praise, trust, among countless other gifts, know that it is because it's coming naturally and comfortably.

I'm sorry.

Gum Shoe!

It's amazing the things we take for granted. What's also amazing is how many people are fully aware that we take things for granted, but we can't help but to do it anyway as we get used to these amazing... things!

There's nothing I want more right now than a piece of gum. That's right. GUM. But can I chew it? No. These days, it feels that the only thing holding my jaw in place is the skin on my face. Scary, sick picture, I know. Instead, I have here the most delicious pack of tic tacs which mean NOTHING to me. These 1.9 calorie, artificially flavoured mints which encourage me to recycle do not take the place of gum in my heart.

The things we must sacrifice in the name of health. What's next? Cookies? Dream on.

Check One, Check...

Pack:

1. Toothbrush
2. Deoderant
3. Hairbrush
4. At least (3) pairs of jeans
5. Sweaters (AE green, black, blue hooded long sleeved shirt)
6. Nice shirt for outing
7. (2) pairs of boots, (1) pair of sneakers (if they fit in bag)
8. PJ's
9. Underwear
10. Socks
11. Scarf and light blazer
12. Makeup (only the necessities)
13. Digital camera (extra batteries)
14. Phone charger
15. Eyedrops

Reminders:

1. Remove everything in purse not needed
2. Wear as much as possible to save room in bag

Make sure Allie has:

1. Razor
2. Hair dryer and flat iron (who am I kidding?)

Adventures of A&A: Vitamin D

"A day in the life of a girl and her wife."

Alicia: i need to tan before i get up there
Alicia: i'm whiter than casper
Allie: me too, bc i am a ghost
Alicia: lol
Allie: i was using self tanner for awhile but eventually i just look jaundiced
Alicia: LMAOOOOOOOOOOOO