That Time I Saw A UFO

Jun 2, 2013

When you go to college in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by corn fields and the occasional hog farm, you should know that aliens seem to prefer that type of terrain for scaring the shit out of you.

Those small town Liberal Arts schools are fantastic, and are totally worth going to, but if you go, don’t say I didn’t warn you.  It’s when you least expect it that a giant light in the sky will try to beam you up.  I know, because it happened to me.

Well, that’s an exaggeration.  It didn’t try to beam us up so much as we were just terrified that it would.

One night, a friend and I were driving back from The Big City, where we’d lived the big life by going to a Target and a Taco Bell, when we saw a bright light moving in the sky in front and above us.  Nothing seemed off at first, but  it kept getting bigger and bigger and on a path that seemed to be heading straight towards us.

Now, at this point, we thought it was a plane.  A little plane doing a flyover, then a big plane that must’ve been off course, then an even bigger plane coming in for an emergency landing, using the freeway lights as a landing strip.

That’s when curiosity turned into panic.  I’d seen enough emergency landings on the news to know that I didn’t want to be on the “landing strip” (I mean, duh).  But should I stay on the road or veer off?  Keep driving or stop?  The light got massive, and before I could make a decision, it shot to the right of us.  Just like that.  All the way over to the right of us, and then back up a bit.  And then it shot in another direction.  And then more lights lit up in a row under the main light.

And the panic turned to fear.  Blinding fear.  Because that was obviously NOT a plane.

It had taken about five minutes for the light to descend, then just a few seconds for it to shoot around.  While we watched it hovering, it suddenly shot off into the distance like a shooting star, its light leaving a streak in the sky.

I shit you not.

The rest of the drive back to school, my friend and I tried to convince ourselves that the government must’ve been testing out some secret new flying machine.  But when the only open parking spaces meant we had to walk a LONG way back to the dorm, we huddled against each other, terrified that light was going to come back and beam us up so there weren’t any witnesses left behind.

We are both still alive and haven’t had any other UFO experiences (as far as we know), so whatever it was in the sky that night didn’t deem us worth the trouble of picking up.  In retrospect, the whole things seems a little silly.  But it was REAL.  If God created the Earth and us humans, then he certainly could’ve created other beings in other places.  After seeing what I did, I’m open to the possibility.

And, no, I was not high or drunk.  Not that time.

So the next time your out in the middle of nowhere and you see a star start to get bigger and brighter and closer until, finally, you think it’s going to crash into the earth right where you are, remember my story and run for your life.  It could be an asteroid or a plane, but it’s probably a UFO.  And you might not be as lucky as me with the whole beaming up thing.

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How Eggnog Plus Rum Equals Bangs

Dec 1, 2012

One of the things I love the most about the Holidays is eggnog!

When I saw it on the shelf at Trader Joe’s a few days ago I did a little shuffle right there in the dairy aisle.  I turned to one of my oldest friends, Beth, who visits every year for Thanksgiving (and doesn’t mind getting dragged along on shopping trips), and practically squealed.

Me: Look, Beth!  Eggnog!

Beth: Oh, cool!  And you know what goes really good with Eggnog, right?


We spiked that eggnog before all of the groceries were even out of the car.

But you know what happens when you drink spiked eggnog?

Bangs.  Bangs happen.

Beth, taking a big draw of eggnog: Hey, what happened to your bangs?

Me: Oh, I grew them out!

Beth: You should totally bring the bangs back.

Me: You are SO right!

And so the next day I made a same-day appointment, and this is how it pretty much went down.

Me at salon: Oh I LOVE them!

Me at home: Aren’t these great?  They were flat ironed, though, so these hot bangs you see on my forehead right now might be a bit hard to recreate.

Me the next day: Well, bang shrinkage is normal, so I just need to wash my hair and all will be fine.

Me after shower: Crap.

Me the day after that: Crap crap CRAP.

Me that night, after wallowing in some more spiked eggnog: I just need MORE bangs.  Like Zoe Deschanel!  Yeah, that’ll do the trick!

The appointment has been made.  And the alcohol has been put away until after my trim, in case I make any more stupid hair decisions.

My husband has assured me that even if I end up with a giant triangle of bangs that start at the top of my head and angle down to where my ears attach to my head, he will still love me.  So there’s that.

Oh, and Beth?  Thanks a lot, you turd.  This whole More Bangs thing better turn out well or revenge will be sweet!


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The Morning My Mother Accused Me Of Leaving Heroin On The Kitchen Counter

Aug 16, 2012

After dragging myself out of bed this morning, I ran into my mom in the hallway.

We started chatting, then all of a sudden her face changed to disapproval and her hands went to her hips.  She looked the way that moms do when they’re about to chastise you for something.

Mom: I saw the heroin on the kitchen counter last night.

It took a moment for what she said to sink in, because that’s not the kind of thing you expect to hear from someone first thing in the morning.

And then panic swept through me.  OH. MY. GOD.

Did I leave heroin on the kitchen counter?

Well, NO.  Duh.  I don’t do heroin.  But then what was she talking about?  Did someone ELSE leave heroin on the counter?  Did someone sneak into my house and do drugs in my kitchen and then not clean up after themselves?  Or did I bake something and leave some flour on the counter and she just thought it was heroin?  And if that was the case, why on earth would she think it was heroin and not flour?  Was my behavior kind of off lately and she must think it was because I was doing drugs?

Mom: And I just couldn’t resist.  I partook!

She kept staring at me, disapproval seeping from her and hitting me like heat waves.

WHAT?  WTF?  Now I was really confused.

She PARTOOK?  Did my mom snort flour?  Did she lick it off the counter?  Did she have a bad reaction to the flour and that’s why she thinks it was heroin?  Or maybe it WAS heroin!!  Did my mom accidentally do heroin?  But if so, HOW did it get on the counter?


And she just stood there, staring at me, and me staring back at her, my jaw on the ground and my eyes a bit buggy, until my groggy morning brain cleared enough for me to remember that what I HAD left on the kitchen counter was not a stash of heroin, but a chocolate cake.  Which for us is kind of LIKE heroin, in that it’s pulls us in with it’s deliciousness, and we keep going back for more, even after it attaches to our hips and backsides and makes our bodies bulge in very VERY unflattering ways.

As soon as I started laughing she relaxed her stance and joined me.

Me: Oh my WORD, mom!  I thought you were being serious!  I’d totally forgotten about the cake, and I was trying to figure out how to convince you that it wasn’t my heroin and that I wasn’t a drug addict!

And then she went to take a shower, and I went to calm my nerves with some chocolate cake.

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S’mores With Oats

Aug 10, 2012

I had no idea there was a National S’mores Day!

Waking up to news like that is right up there with discovering a hundred dollar bill in the pocket of jeans you haven’t worn in a year.  The excitement had me leaping out of bed to do a little jig, not caring in the least that I was grinding wayward cheerios into the carpet (I was too tired last night to vacuum) (don’t ask why there are even cheerios on my bedroom floor).

It is my absolute favorite desert, and I’ve been known to camp out at a fire pit on the beach from 7:00 in the morning just so we can have S’mores after it gets dark.  There is nothing like chocolate and marshmallows melted over a roaring fire.

I don’t have a fire pit handy, though, and damn if I wasn’t going to have S’mores on National S’mores Day, so second best is to make it at home.  I have a go to recipe that I found a few years ago, and despite the heat wave we’re having I cranked up the oven and made some S’mores With Oats.

S’mores With Oats

1 c. oats
1/2 c. flour
1/2 c. brown sugar
1/4 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. baking soda
1/2 c. butter, melted
1/2 c. chocolate chips
2 c. mini marshmallows


1. Preheat oven to 350F
2. Combine oats with butter. Press into an 8″x8″ pan
3. Bake for 10 minutes and remove from oven
4. Sprinkle with chocolate chips and marshmallows
5. Bake 10 minutes or until marshmallows are golden.
6. Cool pan on a wire rack. Cut into bars and devour!



  • I tripled the recipe, so my baking time was longer- I added 8 additional minutes and used an 8×12 pan.
  • Use parchment paper so you don’t have to clean melted marshmallow off your pan!  I have a serious addiction to using parchment paper while baking now.
  • If you don’t mind your bars cold, cool in the fridge for some added firmness.

There IS one thing that oven baked S’mores have over fire roasted ones- the marshmallow topping turns into a beautiful golden CRISPY top layer.  Sooo delicious.  Even my husband, who doesn’t really like sweets (yeah, I can so NOT relate to this) loves these bars.

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Reading Fifty Shades Of Grey At Inflatable World

Jun 12, 2012

When my friend invited me to tag along to a place called Inflatable World, my first thought was of us walking through a warehouse full of blowup dolls with giant red lips.  I laughed with relief when she told me it was an outdoor bouncy house playground for kids, because as much as I love hanging out with my friend, shopping for sex toys is something I just can’t do as a group activity.

Not too long after we arrived I looked over and noticed a woman comfortably stretched out in a lounge chair reading a book.  Her shoes were kicked off to the side and she was sensually rubbing her feet against each other while she chewed on her bottom lip.

Me: Look, Jen, see what that woman is reading? Gah!

Jen: Yeah?  And?

Me: You don’t know about Fifty Shades of Grey?

Jen: No?

Me: OMG!  Okay, it’s basically erotic porn for women.  Like a romance novel on condoms.  It’s a best seller, and is supposedly doing all kinds of good stuff for relationships that need help in, um, that area.

Jen: So it gets you horny!

Me: Yes!  And that woman over there is getting horny in Inflatable World!

It was an odd place to be enjoying oneself, with the hundreds of kids and parents running around (my two kids alone are enough to knock me out of the mood), but you’ve got to hand it to the woman for her confidence.

Me: You know how people tell PDA offenders to get a room?  I’m going to yell, “Get a Kindle!”  Just for fun!


So I didn’t.  I guess it’s good to have mature friends with you when the mood to be 15 strikes.

I don’t know if I’d ever see the movie (Okay, who am I kidding, I’m TOTALLY going to see the movie.  And apparently I’m a closet prude because I can’t imagine going in anything less than a full body cape that would completely hide my identity.), but it’s fun to weigh in on the whole Fifty Shades of Grey casting craze that’s taken over the web.

I think I have to jump on the Dave Gandy train.  Though he’s kind of obscure, I don’t know if he has a train.  If I had to go mainstream, then it’s Chris Hemsworth all the way.












Though, really, any of the guys being considered for the role will smoke it.

So with all that said, I guess I need to get a move on it and read the books.  I will be downloading them to my PHONE, though.  No physical evidence!  I don’t need Gabi coming across them in a few years and asking, “What are THESE about, mom?”

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