OMG guys! guest blogger

Hey Guys! This is Rachel’s better half writing - her sister Molly! I’ve noticed that Rachel hasn’t updated her blog in a long time. I think she needs a bit of inspiration and since I consider myself inspirational, I signed myself up for the job! No, I wasn’t asked to “guest” blog, some people would probably consider this “block hacking” but I find that term to be crass. Anyway, since Rachel and I go way back, I thought I would tell you some Rachel facts, and clear up any Rachel myths…. Actually let’s make this a game. I’ll give you Rachel information and you decide if it’s a Rachel fact or Rachel Myth. I’ll post the answer below the Rachel information.

1. In second grade Rachel’s wardrobe consisted of about three shirts. She didn’t change to a new shirt every day, like most children; rather she would wear each shirt everyday for weeks at a time. I recall one instance where she spilled paint down the front of her outfit. For most kids this meant it was time for a change. Not Rachel! She just turned her shirt backwards, problem solved! She was always a creative child.

A. Rachel Fact! Obviously my mom didn’t like to dress us.

2. Rachel once wrote “Them chickens don’t lay eggs there” as an answer On her 5^th grade math homework.

A. Rachel Fact! If you are thinking it was a word problem about chickens then you are wrong.

3. When Rachel was five she had to go to the bathroom so bad that she plopped right down on the toilet while I was still in the bathroom. Naturally her tiny little bottom was too small for the seat and she got stuck! Carolyn and I were laughing to hard to help her so my mom had to pull her out.

A. Rachel myth! She was at least nine when this happened.

4. Rachel’s hair always looks fabulous!

A. Rachel myth AND Rachel Fact. You may be surprised by the answer to this. I don’t blame you; normally Rachel’s hair is Rockin! But I do recall a time a few years ago when we were vacationing in Californian. We were staying by the beach which meant there was a lot of moisture in the air. This caused Rachel’s hair to poof and frizz. I will always remember her walking into the room with Art Garfunkel hair! It was awesome. Rachel didn’t think so.

5. Rachel likes to dance

A. Rachel fact! I don’t normally see her dancing, but I can tell she is doing it when I hear music blaring from the den. She Dances like Chris Martin, and by that I mean poorly, but she puts it all out there.

Well that’s all the time I’ve got! I know there are tons more Rachel facts out there, so please share any you have! Also, if there is a Rachel mystery you would like cleared up please leave a comment and I’ll see if I can find the Rachel truth.

New Life Plan: I Sell You Something!

THIS IS THE SECOND PART of a two part post. But I finished this part first and I need the attention NOW! The drawing will make sense later.

If you , like me, happen to live in a place that was constructed solely to punish you with its ugly, uninhabitableness, you know that going outside is a daunting chore. Even in those times when the weather is pleasant* and despair has loosened its grip on your bones the gift of vision seems like, well, a burden!

Friends, I tell you no more! What if I told you that you could step out
side without bracing yourself against the harshness of light and perception? What if I told you that you could...oh I don't know, enjoy going outside? Enjoy the scenery, the ambiance?
Now I know what you're thinking, "But I can't leave, Rachel, this city has already consumed my soul. It owns me, forever!" All you nervous, soul-less Nellies can quit your yarning' because I'm not talking about moving! That's right, friends, I'm talking about enjoying the current city you live in right now. "Impossible!" You must be thinking, "Rachel can't understand the depth of the grotesqueness I call home if she thinks I can enjoy existing here." Hogwash! Let me tell you a little something about myself: I live in Tempe; I know what ugly is.

And that's precisely why I invented this unique, innovative product using technology
- so good folks like yourselves can enjoy bad places.

Introducing:

LifeVision Head Apparel

Complete you Summer Suit with a LifeVision hood! Each hood is guaranteed to fit over most heads therefore blocking out some of the sights and sounds of daily bleakness that surrounds you. But that's not the best part! Every hood is outfitted with an internal picture so the wearer can actually believe he or she is somewhere liveable. Get lost in:

Paris: The City of Love: In this style a very, very romantic drawing of Paris is hand-stapled to the inside of each hood.
Breezy Oceanside: You can almost smell the sea water while gazing into this ocean scene. Or something that smells like dead fish**


Anywhere but Here: These LifeVision hoods are left blank giving you the opportunity to imagine your very own settings! Perhaps that ranting crack addict is the local fruit vendor in a Tuscan Village. That pesky broken glass you're stepping on? Crisp, fallen leaves in a restful, alpine valley. Hear those blaring, ambulance sirens? Of course not, because all you hear is the bells of Notre Dame.With Anywhere But Here hoods, you can LITERALLY pretend to be anywhere better, which is anywhere else. And if you don't have a good imagination? Well, then you can take comfort in knowing the horizon is one less thing you'll have to face today.




*In Tempe, this excludes the months from April through November

Special Story Time: I Get Relevant

I consider myself generally ill-informed, especially in regards to current events and other happenings. I don't stay abreast of news primarily because it requires effort but also because I find events occurring outside my mind confusing and/or depressing. Why not live in Magic Magic Land? I do!

I find maintaining a tenuous grasp on reality make existing more manageable...but there are drawbacks. For example, experiencing shock when discovering the ol' town lake exploded. A week ago.

Majestic dumping of trout circa November

I know I didn't ask, but I still feel like someone ought to have told me since this tragedy is actually relevant to my life, unlike most humanitarian crisis. And I know I'm normally too selfish to care when public parks explode but Tempe Town Lake actually held personal significance to me. Gather round, and I'll tell you about it- Special Story Time!

Special Story Time

There was a time, year(s) ago, when I was not the worldly traveler I am today. I was young,, naive, provincial even. I'd lived in Mesa my entire life and had never even tasted gougeres. So I was naturally excited to move into the ASU dorms in Tempe, literally miles from my birth home. Alas, this move did not prove to be the cultural awakening I longed for. I tried to make the best of dorm life, hilariously quipping to my sister:

"I live in a daycare that smells like pot!"

Despite my saintly tolerance, the crassness occasionally became too much, and I'd find myself heading toward Tempe Town Lake's concrete "shores." Once I reached the cement walls retaining the water, I'd close my eyes, hold my breath and evoked my over-developed power of pretend. I'd pretend to be anywhere with a real lake. Anywhere more sophisticated than Tempe. Like Paris. Or Detroit. (Geography Zing!)

Once I returned from New Zealand, completely cosmopolitan, with a working knowledge of bodies of water I stopped going. I feared this practice might cheapened my memories of actual lakes. And now I'll never know! Sure, I could walk down and watch the alligators eat the dying carp, but it wouldn't be the same.

Don't get me wrong here, I'm glad these misunderstood creatures are finally getting to have some fun. But I do feel my distress and grief over this matter entitle me to some compensation. I feel I'm owed something by the city of Tempe. Like a pet alligator.
I'd name him Petey and we'd be best friends and even better business partners. Like Shaun and Gus!

Drawing done with a Holiday Express pen on Fairfield Inn paper

Oh, the times we'd surely have!

Morally Invincible: What it's like to have a Canadian Friend

I know this might come as a shock, but I sometimes suffer from self-doubt. It's true. Sometimes, I get to worrying that I'm too racist, or too hateful, or not law-abiding enough, et cetera and I get really down on myself.

But then I remember one special thing that reminds me I'm basically more tolerant that anyone else in the world:

I have a Canadian friend.

Yes, that's right- Canadian. And I'm still charitable enough to spend time with her. Lord knows, it's not easy. There are days when I question whether it's even worth it. Days when the her meekness, her bumbling incompetence, and her damn wimpy scarves seem like they're too much to bare. But then I remember Steve Nash and I know I can make it work.
I smile, ignore her accent and gently remind myself that she can never be a natural-born American like me, no matter how hard she tries.

I'm not saying I'm perfect, just morally superior.

The Time for Humility has Ended. I am a Great and Powerful Person.

Weekly Life Plan

I don't know how I'm going to die, but I'm pretty sure my eventual death could have been easily avoided by the use of common sense. To that end, I've always thought I might end up the tragic victim of a suspect cult. My natural weak-minded, unquestioning nature coupled with a crippling inability to make decisions makes me a shoe-in!

....But last night I watched a documentary that changed my mind about cult life forever:

Jarvis didn't dream small; he dared to DREAM BIG. I may not be freakishly lanky but I've got big hair and I can DREAM BIG too!

I'm not going to just join a cult; I'm gonna be a cult leader!

And my cult's gonna be the biggest, bestest cult ever! Know why? KNOW WHY? 'Cause I'm not gonna pretend like it's not a cult. Too many cults make the classic, "rookie cult" mistake of hastily rejecting the "cult label." This gives miserable outsiders the chance to cry outrage over "human rights" and less-dedicated members the chance to feel confused, betrayed or bankrupt. Here come the lawsuits! And there goes your undeserved millions. It's a cultleaders second-greatest fear.

At Do What Rachel Says Farm we won't sugar-coat things. There's a no bullshit policy*. And drugs, lots and lots of drugs.

Yes, the happiness we offer illusory. We're upfront about that. But you won't care unless you resist! And why resist, really. I mean seriously, why? To preserve your individuality? Well I hope you enjoy your doubt-filled autonomy with its scary choices and consequences. Meanwhile your Cultmates™ will spend bliss-filled days literally ecstatic to shell peas for the Righteous Cause.

And anyway, can you prove strenuous, unpaid labor isn't the surest way to achieving serenity? No, no you can't. I'm doing everyone a favor by making me rich! So that's my life plan for bettering the world. This week.

*Initially. Policy may change based on Cultmate™ ranking

Tulie: That's French for F@#King Anger Wafers

YOU want a blog update?

I wanted to impress someone and now my kitchen floor is covered in a thousand sugary shards of frustration and impotence. My fingers and palms are burnt and blistering. I'm dirty but also too tired to shower so it looks like I'm going to stay that way.

The worst part is that I've made tuiles many times with roaring success. Roaring! They were my sophisticated standby and now I have nothing. NOTHING! Not even an alcoholic flatmate to scream at.

Now I'm going to watch clips from Withnail and I (instead of going to bed) and panic about the direction my life is heading.