When your boyfriend writes your name in the sand.

ON FRIDAY, MY WORK HOSTED OUR ANNUAL CHRISTMAS PARTY AT SUNDANCE SKI RESORT. And although it was amazing, the entertainment was wonderful, the food was fulfilling, I can never think of Sundance without thinking of raccoons.

Raccoons and I go way back you see, clear back to when I was eight and my sisters friend had a pet coon which ran in a bush, causing a bit of a dilemma for us.

“Quick, give me your shoes!” Sam’s friend Kristy shoved her hand in my direction, but there was no way I was giving up my shoes, they were brand spanking new and I hadn’t even found out how fast I could run in them yet.

Did anyone else do that? Run up and down the street in your new kicks just to see if you were faster? Back to the point.

“I don’t wanna…” I quietly shied away from her.

“Well fine, but then you have to go in there and grab him.” Now it was a challenge, but I was totally game. After all, it’s just a pet coon. I stepped towards the bush and poked around with my hands until I felt a sharp — SNIP — and pain overcame my thumb. I pulled my gangly hand out of the bush and noticed four puncture marks where the damn thing had bit me. I ran screaming all the way home and sat there crying for an hour while my mom called around to find out if it had rabies.

Good times, I tell you. Good times.

Ever since then I’ve stayed away from the evil little varmints with one exception: the day my sisters, mom and I went to Sundance to explore the gift shop, and right outside was the funniest, pudgiest little raccoon I’ve ever seen in my life swinging on a rope and failing miserably. He had a broken leg but the sweetest disposition. Shopping isn’t my thing so I stood there watching him for a while, which was fine until he changed his focus and started coming at me. Every step I took back he took two scooches (broken leg, remember?) towards me. If I moved faster, so did he. I was wondering what I should do, could I outrun a raccoon!? right when some hag that worked in the store screamed, “Young lady! Get AWAY from that RACOON right this instant,” with her hand on her hip.

You’d think she worked for peta and I’d just been caught dog fighting.

And I don’t know what it is, usually I just submit when people yell — like the time in Zions National Park when some lady yelled at Ashley and I for feeding the squirrels, something about how they’d all starve and die in the winter and it would be all our fault since we fed them, Ashley and I just stood there and TOOK IT. But no, not today, I was not going be blamed for a silly little coon that was chasing me. So I mocked, threw out my leg and folded my arms and very sassily replied, “Who are you?! You’re not my mother.”

And since I can’t find the perfect photo I took of a raccoon at the Oklahoma Zoo that talked me out of 1/2 a bag of Gardettos, I’ll leave you with a photo of a man at Wal-Mart that brought his buddy with him.

WORDLESS WEDNESDAY HAS WORDS! Therefore, it’s not technically Wordless Wednesday, but this post is going to be so photo-heavy that I’m putting it there.

Just bear with me.

And also bear with the fact that the story of this post occurred, oh, some week and a half ago. I like to post about things later, give the thoughts and ideas some time to ferment and grow.

More like, I like to blog about things later because I am lazy.

I guess we can begin this story at Tucano’s a few Fridays back. I’d been telling Kevin all week that we were doing something on Saturday for his Birthday, so no, don’t try and guess, because you can’t guess it anyway.

Just my luck, the correct guess of  “You’re taking me on a helicopter ride,”  was the first thing out of his mouth, and I was hard pressed to not say you win, let’s go home, oh and if you’re so good at guessing which degree am I going to graduate with? BECAUSE I’D REALLY LIKE TO KNOW.

But instead I sat there  – probably for a few seconds too long – and then blurted, “No keep guessing.”

Saturday morning rolls around and I take two non-drowsy Dramamine because I’m just sure that we’re going to get up in the air and I’m going to lose it. When Kevin asked why I took those,  I told him I’m allergic to driving.

Which I am.

Back on point – he drove while I gave directions. We pull up at the SLC airport and he looks at me and asks, “What on earth are we doing here?” and I’m staring at him like really? Really!? You don’t know. You guessed last night. Let’s go so I can hurry up and die.

But instead a simple, “You’ll see,” comes out of my mouth and I dive out of the car. You could say I was a mess of nerves. I wanted him to figure out what we were doing, so I could do one of the two things I’d worried about all week: freak out about how scared I was and back out, or throw up midair and die.

There was no other alternative in my mind.

We walk in and meet Brent, our pilot.

“You guys have coats?” he asked.

“Coats?”

“If you don’t, we’ll have to put the doors back on, it’s going to be 50 degrees up there in the air,” he explained. BACK UP A MINUTE BRENT. DOORS. Off the helicopter.

I want my mommy.

“So what made you guys want to do this?” Brent asked as we walked out of the hanger.

“She actually brought me for my birthday,” Kevin responded, looking at me like he still couldn’t believe what we were doing.

“Wait, she took you on a freaking helicopter ride for your birthday? Dude. She’s a keeper,” Brent said as I blushed and walked past both of them. We stepped outside and got our first view of our door-less heli.

I had Brent take a photo of us beforehand.

Just in case I didn’t make it. You know, a last photo type of thing.

I made Kevin sit up front, while I took the seat in the back.

Someone please tell me that the back seat reminds you of a lawn chair too.And the seat-belt? It was a quick release.

Kevin and Brent talked for a few minutes beforehand about what it takes to become a pilot. Halfway through their conversation, I  assaulted Brent with some questions of my own.

“Is it common to get motion sick?”

“What’re the odds of getting puking?”

“Does it make you dizzy?”

“About how many people have you had throw up?”

Finally he cut me off, “why, are you getting ready to?” I honestly didn’t have a good answer. I wasn’t trying to want to puke, I was just trying to be realistic. I just wanted to know if I’d need a brown paper bag or if I can just puke out the door on all the cars below  is all, and the fact that it took Brent three times to start the engine definitely wasn’t helping.

Nor were signs like this:

or this one.

But this?

This helped immensely.

Kevin looked back and smiled at me and that’s all it took – I wasn’t scared anymore.

Something about that boy just makes me fearless.

He makes me feel like I can fly.

And not two minutes later the engine was on, the blades were spinning and all the sudden there goes the ground, falling away from me.

Grid patterns are so fascinating from this angle.

And so is the back of his head, since I seem to have took exactly 2,157 photos of it.

Don’t ask. Infatuation makes you do some odd things.

Also don’t ask me to name any of these buildings, as I’m directionally retarded.

I want to find this courtyard and live in it. Look at all the green in the middle of all these buildings!

Kevin got to fly the helicopter for a minute.

Oh that’s just my foot, hanging out of a helicopter 500 feet above buildings. No big deal.

You really want a sense of vertigo? Brent tipped the heli sideways multiple times.

I don’t know what this castle building is, but I love it.

I do know one building, the Mormon Salt Lake City Temple.

And although I’ve seen it plenty of times, I’ve never seen the roof! If you look real close you’ll notice two happy couples who just got married, each on opposite ends of the Temple.

The building in the back is another one I know, it’s the state capitol.

On the return ride, Brent preformed what he called a “rollercoaster” effect and dived straight up and back down again.

Then he showed off his sweet skills with a 360° turnabout upon landing. He was an amazing pilot and so much fun to be around.

They took one last photo of us after we landed, and they were even nice enough to borrow us their coats on the ride so we didn’t freeze. I had so much fun.

AND I DIDN’T EVEN PUKE.

Kevin, thank you for going and I hope you had a great Birthday. You make me fearless.

I love. . .

That it’s fall and the leaves are changing.

I love. . .

That Ashley brought me some wood for my fireplace, and now my whole house smells like pine.

I love. . .

Having a fireplace.

I love. . .

How it’s starting to get cold, which means plenty of movie nights.

I love. . .

Wearing my favorite fall clothes.

I love. . .

That the leaves will fall in my front yard so deep that I can jump in them.

I love. . .fall.

THERE WAS ONE ACCIDENT at the derby that made all the cars stop. One driver experienced a door hit (which is against the rules and regulations. Basically, no door hits and no head on hits) and his helmet popped off and out the door, rendering him unconscious.

The announcer started screeching for all cars to hold their positions so they can help the poor driver. The car below, number 72, didn’t seem to hear the call to halt and just kept on going.

So there he is, in the middle of the arena as everyone yells STOP! and he just plows on ahead, ramming into the back of one car and backing into the front of another.

I was wondering if in his mind, he was like “Sweet! Everyone’s stopped, I win!!”

The car he backed into, number 70, had so much damage done that we wondered if his car would even work. Thankfully it did.

Everyone was raging mad at number 72 while he kept plowing into other stopped cars. He hit the gas, spun his tires and aimed his car right at the car with the unresponsive driver. This is when the firemen jumped the berm and risked their lives to jump in the delinquent drivers path. They waved their flags, they shouted, they jumped up and down. Finally, the idiotic number 72 figured out that he was supposed to stop.

I was just waiting for the crowd to jump out in hordes and attack him like a swarm of angry bees.

Once the car was stopped, the EMT’s and fire crew were able to access the situation and help the driver.

Everyone waited with bated breath, hoping that the driver was okay.

More trucks came.

And the Jaws of Life were put into use. After twenty tense minutes, the roof was peeled back off the car and the driver was given a full check up.

And he was fine!

All credits given to the firefighters that put their lives on the line to dive out and protect his car.

And the car was towed out, the games continued and all was well.

ASHLEY AND I were talking on Instant Messenger a few days back when we started discussing my upcoming college education.

Ashley says:
u dont have a nice calculator do u?
Aubrey says:
nope, gotta go get one.
Ashley says:
if i had one id let you have it.
Aubrey says:
thanks, that means a ton.
Ashley says:
not really since i dont have one!
Ashley says:
um i just did something.
Aubrey says:
what?
Ashley says:
you dont need a calculator anymore.
thats all for now.

Well, she did it. She bought me a calculator, and I love it. For one, it’s my favorite color.

For two, it has many, many useful looking buttons.

I say “useful looking” because I’m sure they have a great purpose. I just don’t know what that is yet.

But I will learn. Oh yes, I will learn.

It’s just an awesome calculator overall.

And  – I can’t believe I’m going to admit this – but I’m actually excited to start math.

Send help.

YES. THE TITLE IS A WARNING. A warning that the following repetitive clip has the potential to be more annoying than the videos of me singing. Ever wondered what the who the heck is that girl famous AubreyMo does with her spare time?

I corner Ollie with the video camera of course.

And I switch from third to first person at random. Sorry about that.

When my Aunt gave me Ollie, we were told he can howl on command. Turns out he talks too.

I always wonder if he really loves me, or if he just loves it when I shut up.

Food.

He loves food and snuggles.

And my parents. That about sums it up.

Want to know what I love? (Besides Ollie). I love YOU my dear readers. I had a record traffic day yesterday and it’s days like that that make my heart soar and give me the motivation to keep it coming with the sarcasm and all the lame jokes.

Any funny posts you want to see? Any pets you can’t get enough of? Any tricks you want me to learn and blog about? Let me know in the comment box.

Loves!

- AubreyMo

I WALKED INTO A PET STORE THE OTHER DAY, and spent the better part of an hour there. It’s a weakness, a disease. I saw this little silver gray bunny, with brown behind his ears and the sweetest personality. If not for Houdini and Nameless taking up residence in my only cage, I would have brought this sweet rabbit home with me.

Why? Because he reminded me of Dodger. Sweet, innocent little baby Dodger. The rabbit that stole my heart, and also my veggies when I didn’t want them. He was a feisty little Netherland Dwarf, that was for sure, but he was mine and I loved him. Mr. Dodge “Hodgepodge” died a year and a half ago, due to circumstances that “nobody knows”.

AKA I’m still not over it, and I’m still angry. We’ll just leave it at that.

Thank goodness my good friend saved the pictures of baby Dodge for me after I lost them, so I can always remember him.

My favorite photo of Dodger was the one I took in the winter. It got me a lot of credit in my photography class. The teacher almost didn’t give it back.

Look at that face, and tell me you didn’t just melt into the floor. I’m just surprised that the snow stayed there.

MY NAME IS AUBREY. I was named after the song Aubrey, by the group Bread.

The lyrics:
And Aubrey was her name,
A not so very ordinary girl or name.
But who’s to blame?

My online name is AubreyMo. Ever wondered why? Well, it’s no secret. It’s because I am boring and unoriginal, and I hate coming up with usernames. I’m the type that will spend an hour creating my avatar name on a playstation game only to actually play for a total of ten minutes. So when I started working for a job in Search Engine Optimization, and Marci helped me create a Stumbleupon profile, it required me to pick a username.

I froze. I was prepared to email, make calls, talk to people at this job. I was not prepared to show everyone my lack of creativity. So I reverted to what I always did in High School, and used AubreyMo. I fully planned on changing it.

But it stuck.

I used it on another site, thinking I’d go back and make a new one for myself. And then another site came along with another profile, and another one, and another one, until I wound up with 250+ social accounts all with AubreyMo as my username.

I hated it, but I eventually learned that it wasn’t a bad thing to be ranked for something so. . .out there. So I created this website as an outlet for my crazy ideas and stories that I’d like to look back on.

I wasn’t expecting to get readers.

I also wasn’t expecting to have to COMPETE WITH MYSELF. Because of all those social accounts, I had to fight to be ranked for my own username. Oh the shame.

I guess it turns out my name is more popular than I’d originally thought. Look what I spotted on the freeway the other day.

No, I’m not talking about the color or style of the car. I hate beetles. And The Beetles for that matter.

Can’t see it? Look closer.

Look at the plates! She stole my name!

Thankfully it says Aubster and not Aubrey, Or Aubs. I was jealous for a moment until I realized that Aubster rhymed with lobster and I changed my mind about wanting that name. I’ll keep it the way it is, AubreyMo.

I’M FEELING SHY RIGHT NOW. Wondering how you’ll think of me after I post this. Wondering if I’ll care.

Of course I’ll care.

But will it hurt? Why does posting a video of myself make me feel so. . .so. . .vulnerable? Is it the fact that I can’t edit it? Is it how you can now see the way my upper corner of my right lip tilts upwards while I talk, and how my eyes are slightly cross eyed, and how my hair is in dire need of a cut and color? What about how my eyes are closed at the beginning, or how I’m all awkward while saying “see ya!” at the end?

Well, for better or for worse, here I am. Unedited, uncropped and unphotoshopped. Also unscripted, so there will be a lot of “oohs, ahhs and ums” throughout the whole thing from me.

My question for you now is this:

Did I sound like you thought I would? I want to hear your feedback!