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.

THE AUBREYMO.COM BLOG TURNS ONE TODAY!!! This means a select few of you on the internet have stuck around for 365 days of whining, rants, blabs and roughly 3,562 pet photos. A select few of you have even read all 152 posts.

You deserve a medal.

But instead I’ll give you this, a “best of” list for AubreyMo. Let’s start right out at the very start:

1) The Beginning

How I Wrangled The Christmas Spirit – The awesome first blog post, where I talked about how a Christmas tree fell off my car. Let’s just say this year I’m glad I went with a fake tree. Isn’t it enough that the lights already shocked me?

2) The Top Rated

Finding the Truth – We’ll talk about this one later.

How to Write an Apology Letter… – This is a post my dear friend Kamie wrote on my blog a while back. I need to post on her site as well…if I can ever think of something awesome to write.

Winds of Change – Um. Me. Running in a field like a freak with my dog. No different than any other day I guess.

3) Posts where I mention creeps, and I’m not talking about me.

Finding the Truth – By far the most popular one, this is where some punk kid ran up and asked if I knew where to find the truth. It also includes the Pants of Awesomeness. I guess I can finally post a photo of them now.

You Wanna Go? – This thug is serious about his money. Don’t mess.

Mid-Hall Melodies – The time at college a guy with a guitar chased me down the hall and sang me a song about getting stoned. You know those memories you’ll never forget? I’m sure some day I’ll be 80 and reminiscing on this one.

4) Embarrassing posts (in which I may or may not include the word ‘Twilight’)

Vanity Vain – My hair starts out bad and I document making it worse. Yes, there were Cruella De Vil references.

Twilight, You Are My Life Now – Twilight…

Becoming Bella – I look like Bella, and apparently I pissed off someone who doesn’t. I could delete the comments but knowing that I hurt their immature feelings makes me laugh. NO, YOU GROW UP COMMENTER.

As I said before, I know exactly who they are.

New Moon Official Trailer – This concludes the Twilight obsession. Remind me to tell you about the time Kevin went to see New Moon with us. It was a hoot.

Ms. Chipmunk Cheeks – Remember this photo?

It’s right after I got out of oral surgery and was fat faced for a week. It has to be the most embarrassing photo I’ve ever posted of me, other than this:

or this:

But the photo with the most views isn’t even of me, so we’re good.

This concludes the flashback of my life. Let’s just forget the whole thing happened, shall we?

THE LOOK ON GRAMS’ FACE WHEN I WALKED IN was hilarious all on its own. Her hand, which was in the process of putting an ice cube to her mouth, hung forgotten and her mouth gaped as she stared at my jeans. Being born in 1929 and growing up through the tail-end of the depression, I’m sure she’s seen ratty jeans before, but she wasn’t quite sure why someone would wear them by choice.

“My heavens child, you need new pants! Surely you can afford some. Those things have got to go,” she admonished me before we’d even said hello.

And I’ll confess, I may have lied a little. I told a half-truth.

“They’re just comfortable Grandma, that’s why I keep them”.

These pants?

Yea. They’re brand new.

**UPDATE: My spreadsheet is found, I now have food  and life is good again**

IT’S MONDAY, AND I’M ALREADY HUNGRY. Is it not enough that it’s Monday? I mean, that’s a huge thing all in itself. Matter of fact, that works as answer to anything:

Aubrey what’s wrong?

It’s Monday.

How’s that spreadsheet coming (oh yea, the one that’s still LOST?!)

It’s Monday.

How’s your Grandma?

It’s Monday.

What’re you thinking?

It’s Monday.

Except this time, It’s Monday and I’m Hungry. I’m hungry and I’m on a quest – for Funions. Kevin and I were driving around the other day and for some insane reason I felt the need to blurt out of nowhere, “Whenever I find Funions, I feel like I’ve won something massive.” I clenched my fists together for added emphasis.

“. . .O. . .kay?” He asked, looking at me out the corner of his eye.

“Well, you just can’t find those anywhere, it’s like a prize. A prize of yummy goodness.”

“Eww.  Funions are sooo gross!” He proclaimed.

“WHAT?! You don’t like Funions?! You don’t like Funions.” I huffed. “You mean to tell me we’re similar in every other way but you can’t stand Funions? Well, then guess what? I hate the vinegar in Salt and Vinegar chips.” Oh yes, I went there. I hated on his favorite chips.

“Well then, I hate the onions in Funions.”

We both bust up laughing and that was the end of that discussion – he won. We agreed to disagree (and what a great first disagreement that was), and get our favorite type of chips anyway – except Chevron was lame and didn’t have either.

However, he made it up to me later when he found my stash of Easy Cheese and Wheat Thins. “Oh my goodness I love these! You’re probably mad that I found them.” Mad, no. Surprised that you like them? Yes.

I got thinking of how much my father hates Easy Cheese. He calls it “Fish Cheese” because he claims it’s so similar to the cheese bait he used while fishing as a kid. He won’t even come close to a can of Easy Cheese if you paid him.  Thinking of that got me thinking of butter. Both are so similar with how they can be processed and sold in so many different forms.

And now butter’s got me thinking about toast, and pancakes, and all the other stuff I’d like to make in the morning when I get up.

But wait.

It’s Monday.

Raincheck to Tuesday? Why yes please.

FOR SOME BACKGROUND, you know that I’ve always loved pets, which means I’ve owned anything I could get my hands on. Currently I have two parakeets, a dwarf hamster, a talking dog, and two rabbits. Everything lives in my apartment except the rabbits, some punk kids came around and started letting them out of my yard so I had to move them to my parents house.

Ashley recently caught a rabbit and tried to give it to me, and I immediately started listing the things she shouldn’t feed it. What can I say, I am a walking index of pet advice. It’s kind of pathetic really. I aspired to be a vet, and when that wasn’t possible I looked into being a vet tech. I found a local program, but they wanted $41,500 in TUITION (meaning, not including books) for two years of school which would certify me to spend the rest of my life cleaning cages and taking “temperatures” for roughly $12.75 an hour!

Uh, no thanks.

So here I sit, telling her what not to feed Chester the Rabbit (or Sweetie as Aspen calls him) and I…well…read it for yourself. Let’s just say I’m a PET expert, not a food or spelling expert.

Ashley:
i tried to give the rabbit we found to mom, she wouldn’t take him and says shes giving you your rabbits back someday

Aub:
the rabbits i can’t have at grams because kids let them out, and mom/dad shouldn’t have to care for them.
haha yep those are going.
i dont care about the black one, i’ll miss my brown one tho

Ashley:
is this the same aubrey that wanted to be a vet tech and save baby birds along the freeway?

Aub:
bite it

Ashley:
Glade (her cat) LOOOOOVED The rabbit. he was totally rubbing up against him

Aub:
what a fag (Sorry. You’d have to meet Glade to understand that. He’s antisocial, his best friends are a pair of raccoons and he hates the daylight. You can’t help but make fun of him.)
dude don’t feed the rabbit alvacados or tomatoes, it’ll kill.

Ashley:
altho the rabbit was last seen at the neighbors house–the neighbor called me last night and says “do you have a rabbit”? um…we brought one home yesterday
alvacado???
alvacado??
answer me
dont google it.
alvacado

Aub:
avacado?
heck I dunno.

Ashley:
avacado.
much better
you should try ALvacado’s theyre delicous.

Aub:
bite it

Ashley:
well they are

My favorite part? How she has to tell me “don’t Google it”.

She knows me well.

I AM FAMOUS FOR OVERTHINKING THINGS. Take for example, going back to school, or more recently, going back to Church. I sat there all yesterday morning wringing my hands, nervously tugging down the hem of my skirt, readjusting my necklace, anything to try and get my mind of things.

“I’m gonna die,” I stated this matter-of-factly to Kevin as we walked in. “I’m gonna die. I just know it. Dying. Dead.”

He just laughed and grabbed my hand. Haha oh boy, I thought I was nervous before? Holding hands in a Church. . .is this acceptable?

Needless to say, it’d been a while.

And needless to say, I lived. (And I’m going again next week).

Back to my topic:  overthinking.

I overthink a lot of things. Like lunch – I’ll think about what to eat for so long that I wind up skipping it.

I overthink things like the word scissors. Why is that word so weird? Don’t believe me? Say scissors five times and it stops sounding human. Or is it just me?

Speaking of is it just me, does anyone else notice their music slowing down? Because I swear I’ll pick a fast tempo song, love it for a few weeks, and by the time I get the words down the tempo is half of what it used to be and I feel like I’m singing to a slow dance song. Is that just me?

And then there is the “literally” problem. I tend to take things for face value. Like the time I was driving with some friends and another car cut into our lane, my friend said, “they didn’t install turn signals on that model”.

Yep.

I believed it.

Basically I think too much, and it’s a disease. A disease you just caught. . .with this list of imponderables!

• Do fish ever sneeze?
• Can sour cream go bad?
• What is the speed of dark?
• Why do clocks run clockwise?
• Why do doughnuts have holes?
• What do you call a male ladybug?
• Is there another word for synonym?
• What’s another word for Thesaurus?
• Why isn’t 11 pronounced onety one?
• Why don’t sheep shrink when it rains?
• Can vegetarians eat animal crackers?
• Why does unscented hair spray smell?
• Why is it that rain drops but snow falls?
• If a pig loses its voice, is it disgruntled?
• Why do kamikaze pilots wear helmets?
• Why is “abbreviated” such a long word?
• Is it OK to use the AM radio after noon?
• Boycott shampoo! Demand the real poo!
• If love is blind, why is lingerie so popular?
• What do ducks have to do with duck tape?
• Why isn’t there a mouse-flavored cat food?
• How and why do horses sleep standing up?
• Why do ketchup bottles have narrow necks?
• Why don’t people snore when they’re awake?
• Do Roman paramedics refer to IV’s as “4’s”?
• Why isn’t phonetic spelled the way it sounds?
• What was the best thing before sliced bread?
• Is a clear conscience a sign of a bad memory?
• What happens to the tread that wears off tires?
• Why is there an expiration date on sour cream?
• What does the phrase “Now then” really mean?
• How do you tell when you’re out of invisible ink?
• Suppose the hokey-pokey is what its all about?
• Are Santa’s helpers called subordinate clauses?
• If a cow laughs, does milk come out of her nose?
• Why are people immune to their own body odor?
• Why do psychics have to ask you for your name?
• Why do people like to pop bubble wrap so much?
• Do crematoriums give discounts for burn victims?
• Do they use sterilized needles for fatal injections?
• If the #2 pencil is the most popular, why is it still #2?
• Why do you never hear about gruntled employees?
• If ignorance is bliss, why aren’t more people happy?
• What happens if you get scared half to death twice?
• If man evolved from apes, why do we still have apes?
• When cheese gets its picture taken, what does it say?
• Why do we drive on parkways and park on driveways?
• What would the speed of lightning be if it didn’t zigzag?
• If all the world is a stage, where is the audience sitting?
• If you don’t pay your exorcist, do you get repossessed?
• Why does the sun lighten our hair, but darken our skin?
• Why is the third hand on a watch called a second hand?
• If a book about failures doesn’t sell well, is it a success?
• Would you still be hungry if you ate pasta and antipasta?
• Why can’t women put on mascara with their mouth closed?
• If flying is so safe, why do they call the airport the terminal?
• If Barbie is so popular, why do you have to buy her friends?
• Why must there be five syllables in the word “monosyllabic?”
• Why don’t you ever see the headline “Psychic Wins Lottery”?
• Why is it considered necessary to nail down the lid of a coffin?
• When everything is coming your way, you’re in the wrong lane.
• If they squeeze olives to get olive oil, how do they get baby oil?
• Eagles may soar, but weasels don’t get sucked into jet engines.
• If a word in the dictionary were mispelled, how would we know?
• Why are they called apartments when they’re all stuck together?
• If you go to a general store, will they let you buy anthing specific?
• When dogs bark for hour on end, why don’t they ever get hoarse?
• What size were hailstones before the game of golf was invented?
• If 7-11 is open 24 h/d, 365 d/yr, why are there locks on the doors?
• Why do we say that something is out of whack? What is a whack?
• If con is the opposite of pro, is Congress the opposite of progress?
• Why do superficial paper cuts tend to hurt more than grosser cuts?
• If nothing sticks to Teflon, how do they get Teflon to stick to the pan?
• If we’re here to help others, then what exactly are the others here for?
• The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.
• Why is experience something you don’t get until just after you need it?
• If one synchronized swimmer drowns, do the rest also have to drown?
• Why do we put suits in a garment bag and put garments in a suitcase?
• Why is the period of the day with the slowest traffic called the rush hour?
• Why are there flotation devices under plane seats instead of parachutes?
• Should we be concerned that engineers describe their work as “practice?”
• How do they keep all the raisins in a cereal box from falling to the bottom?
• If cement was invented 7,000 years ago, why isn’t the whole planet paved?
• If you build an idiot-proof system, will the world create a better-quality idiot?
• Why do hot dogs come 10 to a package and hot-dog buns 8 to a package?
• Why is the telephone key pad arranged differently than a calculator key pad?
• Why do croutons come in airtight packages? It’s just stale bread to begin with.
• Why do engineers call it research when they’re searching for something new?
• How many roads does a man need to travel down before he admits he is lost?
• If the police arrest a mime, do they tell him that he has the right to remain silent?
• Why do you need a driver’s license to buy liquor when you can’t drink and drive?
• If quitters never win and winners never quit, why should you “quit while you’re ahead?”
• When two airplanes almost collide, why do they call it a near miss rather than a near hit?
• Does current emphasis on artificial intelligence support the existence of artificial stupidity?
• Light travels faster than sound; is that why people appear bright until you hear them speak?
• When a fly alights on the ceiling, does it perform a loop or a roll in order to get upside down?
• How do military cadets find their caps after tossing them in the air at graduation ceremonies?
• How do they get deer to cross a highway where they place one of those yellow warning signs?
• Why is lemon juice made with artificial flavor, while dishwashing liquid is made with real lemons?
• Airplanes have an indestructible black box. Why don’t they make the whole plane out of that stuff?
• What happens if you turn on your headlights when you’re in a vehicle moving at the speed of light?
• When you pick something up so your hands are full, why does someplace on your face start to itch?
• Why is it that when you’re driving and looking for an address, you turn down the volume on the radio?
• If it’s zero degrees today and tomorrow is supposed to be twice as cold, what will tomorrow’s temperature be?
• A bus station is where a bus stops; a train station is where a train stops. What occurs at a desk with a work station?
• Why is it that when you send something by truck it’s called a shipment, but when you send it by ship it’s called cargo?

Yes I have a fat face here. . .but it was the day after oral surgery. Be nice to me.

So.

I wasn’t going to post about it, but a lot of you have seen this Facebook status:

and I’ve gotten enough enquiries about it that I thought I’d just clear the air a bit.

Yes, I’m single. I decided to break it off for reasons that I don’t feel the need to publish on this blog. I respect myself (and him) enough to not let the world know about our problems. Just know that it was a clean break, there was no swearing and arguing or fist fighting in the trailer park. However, it did end with my possessions being left on my front steps that included a bread maker and cooking ingredients at the top of the stairs, my coat in the middle, and one - one - single unopened Tampax at the very bottom. I’m so glad I got that back.

Anyway, back to my point. It was hard, but it was necessary to leave. All in all, I’m happy and confident in my decision. So instead of telling me, “things will work out,” let’s just leave it at GOOD FOR YOU!

I CURRENTLY HAVE A KID.Every few weeks I allow one of my nieces or nephews to come stay at my house alone for the weekend. The activities include a random secret trip to one of their favorite places, eating copious amounts of junk food and disregarding any rules set for them by their parents.

Yea. Aunts rock.

So today I had Kaitlyn, my fifteen year old niece staying with me. We had to stop at my bank for a minute and the line was a joke, so we blared our music and most likely annoyed everyone else in line. There were two lanes open, but everyone was being courteous and allowing the first person in line to take the next available lane (rather than forming two lanes).

Eventually I was able to pull up to the window and send the bank teller my details. It was at that moment that we heard a very angry honk. I glanced around and the guy behind me was revving his engine at another car, completely furious. It wasn’t hard to see that he’d been cut off, and he was pissed.

“Hey! I was in line! You’re not supposed to do that!” he jabbed his hand out the window.

“Whatever, get over it buddy,” was the blonde’s retort.

“Learn how to get wait, you’re supposed to wait!” he whined.

“Get over it,” she coolly replied. I started to notice that the bank tellers had forgotten their objectives in leau of what was transpiring behind me. “You got a problem?” the blond raised her eyebrows at him when he wouldn’t stop yelling.

“Yea actually, I DO” he snarled. He’d had it. He cut the engine, slammed the door and walked past my car, heading towards her.

Now, I had an advantage from my viewpoint that this guy didn’t know about. I knew that the lady in a car had a husband, and he wasn’t happy about the situation either.

“Hey calm down. You wanna take this somewhere bud?” The husband poked his head out over his wife’s window.

I had a hard time not laughing watching the guy stop dead in his tracks by my car.

“You wanna go?” he tried to play it cool.  Oooh, so easy to talk tough when you’re hiding behind a beat up Camry for protection, isn’t it? Katie and I were really starting to enjoy our front row seats to the best show in town! I kept waiting for someone to sell popcorn.

“I’m so sorry about this,” my bank teller whispered to me over the intercom.

“Oh no, it’s fine!” I chirped. All eyes turned back to the drama. The chicken guy backed down slowly towards his car, and went and scowled behind me until it was his turn.

Let’s just say I took a little extra time putting my money away. . . and arranging my seatbelt. . .and choosing a song on my iPod.

I also think something’s wrong with my car. It has I-Hate-Mean-Idiots-Idus, and it only let me drive away at 1mph. Weird.

JUST WHEN I THINK I HAVE COLLEGE FIGURED OUT something goes and surprises me. I take night classes, which leaves me with about an hour or so inbetween work and school before my first class starts. I usually spend that hour wandering, and this past Tuesday found me wandering the same main hall. It’s become a hobby of mine to watch the people as they go past and try and figure out what they’re like – super chic, emo, trendy, social, unsocial (did I just walk past a mirror?).

So there I am, minding my own business when I hear music. A guy in a florescent pink shirt was strumming a guitar and playing peacemeal music with his croonies standing nearby. I guess I hadn’t really noticed that nobody else was walking past them, but I had to, my class was that way.

“Hey!! Hey you? Yea, YOU! You wanna hear a new song?” the shaggy-haired, pink-shirted guy called out to me. Not that there was any need for him to shout, seeing as I was only five feet in front of him.

Now don’t get me confused, I may seem over-confident online but in person I’m full of boring lines and awkward pauses. This was one of those moments where I tried to act invisible, tucking my head against my chest and moving forward thinking, Don’t pick me, don’t pick me, please don’t pick me. Shaggy-haired, pink-shirted guy literally ran after me down the hall, jumped in front of me and asked again if I would like to hear his song.

“Sure,” I mumbled. What else was I supposed to do? I needed to go that way and he was blocking my path.

“I’m going to sing you a song,” he paused, strumming his guitar for dramatic effect, “and it’s called, Getting Stoned.” One last strum finished up the intro before he began into a fast-paced tempo. It would have been catchy, had I been able to focus. I was too preoccupied trying to backpedal to clear my personal forcefield. You see, Shaggy-Haired, Pink-Shirted Guy was in the building and he was rocking out – in my face, singing like he was Steven Tyler of Aerosmith in front of crowds of millions, but the only thing he was crowding was my personal bubble.

“Erm, that’s great!” I said, cutting him off mid chord. I wanted desperately to dissapear, sink into the floor, anything to get me away from Shaggy-Haired, Pink-Shirted Guy, his guitar and most imporantly the crowds that had begun to gather and congest the hallway.

“You really liked it?!” He asked. I’m not a good liar at all, so I huffed a quiet “Sure” and walked away as fast as I could. The looks I got continuing down that hall was priceless, and I’m now regretting not getting his autograph and photo with him. That could be my lame clame to fame someday! Reporters would ask me how I met Shaggy-Haired, Pink-Shirted Guy and I’d gush, “well it all began back in college, when he exclusively sang me his hit song about getting stoned. . .”

But seriously, if you are ever in need of entertainment, don’t go to the TV, go to your local community college.