Ants and life!!

Why is it that we as human beings are forced to share living spaces with so many undesirable rodents, pests, and other vermin. So what if they were here before we were. Did God really BEHOLD a skunk and say, "it is good", or how about a raccoon, or an armadillo? I'm sorry, but there are certain species in God's created order for which I have absolutely no respect. Ants used to be on this list, the axis of evil, right there with roaches and rats. However, a recent home invasion of ants has revealed something to me. I was enjoying a bowl of honey bunches of oats (yes honey bunches of oats) when I realized that underneath that beautiful crunch and satisfying almondy ecstasy, I was actually SHARING this breakfast with several friends. And not friends like Jennifer Anniston and Matthew Perry, friends like I probably might throw up now how many did I actually swallow I want to move to a place where I don't have this problem friends. Yes indeed, there were Ants all over my cereal. So I proceeded to throw it away, and then check my cupboard, and realized that these Ants were all over the food cabinet. And that's when it hit me, Ants make us do inventory. Ants make us sweep. Ants make us clean, wash, scrub, dust, vacuum, wipe, and do all of those things we maybe should have been doing before they showed up. Ants have a way of making us better people (0kay maybe not). But here's the truth, so many of life's annoyances have an interesting way of pushing us to correct things that have been wrong for a very long time. The annoyance reaches a breaking point (ants in your cereal), and then something must be done. Then you realize that beyond getting rid of ants, your cupboard is just cleaner, and you realize you have some un-opened macaroni that's still good, and that overall the recession hasn't left you without food altogether. So here's to Ants, because we can all use time to reflect, sweep, pause, clean, wipe, and do inventory.

My Biological Clock

I have a biological clock. It is ticking. Now, I know what you're thinking, "biological clocks? those are for women who actually have.........biological clocks." But no, be creative for a second. Escape the oppresive confines of our current culture and flow with me for a little bit. My big brother got married last week, congrats kev. And during the wedding reception there is of course that five minute period reserved for the parents to give a toast. My Father gives the toast to my brother and his bride. It's a very emotional toast, my Dad cries, I laugh. I'm sorry I had to, it wasn't a graceful cry, it was one of those whiny I'm still trying to talk so my voice gets all high pitched cries. And I only laughed to myself, not completely out loud. So at the tail end of this emotional salute he then turns to me, drawing the attenion of the other one hundred and fifty two guests and says "three down, one to go." Now it's everyone else's turn to laugh, and my turn to cry. So being the only one of four siblings who is now not married with two children, I have been "awarded".......drumroll please..........you guessed it............... a biological clock. This clock reminds everyone to ask me about marriage, babies, and even having babies outside of marriage every...... I don't know................ 67 seconds. It comes standard with no snooze button, no plug, no batteries.................... and no wife to get rid of it. I don't hate this clock, I'm cool with it. I'm only 25, but somehow this clock could keep me from saying one day, I'm only 45. Nah, I don't hate the clock, because if I do, that only gives it more power. Big shoutout to my honorary bio clock......one love

About writing

So as you can see I've started a blog. And this particular post isn't an introduction welcoming you to my blog and lettting you know that I'm new at this so don't expect much, or please don't tell anyone what a horrible blogger I am but instead say something like, "hey you know Mark Chase right, yeah he just started a blog, like just started as in a couple days ago, it's not so bad." No this isn't a plea for a learning curve. This is my way of saying these are my thoughts out loud and this is how I chose to organize them. These are my writings. I can't scrutinize over and over again about what you will think when you read them because honestly, that could stop me from writing them. And in my opinion the best writers.....are the ones that actually write. Funny how life works isn't it?

Adventures of an unwitting Ogre

So apparently I am an Ogre (prenounced O-grrrr). It has taken me quite some time to come to this conclusion, but I am thouroughly convinced that this is true. It must be true, it is the only logical conclusion that I can come to when I am constantly confronted with strange behaviors on the parts of others, that are completely appropriate for when confronted by an Ogre. And at this point if you're tracing your mind trying to remember the last Ogre you saw, just think shrek. So apparently, I am shrek. And when I say shrek I mean ugly bumpy green shrek, not shrek when he became a prince but shrek cursing at his Donkey played by Eddie Murphy shrek. Or at least this is who I am to many middle aged white women, who seem to desperately avoid any social interaction with me that may cause me to behave like my Disney pixar counterpart. For example, I'm standing in the aisle at Target trying to decide whether to buy FIFA soccer 2008 or NBA 2008 (video games, not exactly the rifle section at wal-mart). My back is turned, eyes focused firmly on my subsequent purchase, hands in pockets, slightly hunched over, not appearing in the least bit over-bearing, and nowhere near an approriate attack position. When in the corner of my non combative eye, I see a middle-aged (in this case white) woman holding a shopping cart. She is not searching for anything in my section and she is not moving past me, but clearly desires to. I am not in the way(since everything being bigger in America from cars to quarter pounder meals at Mcdonalds certainly applies to wide shopping aisles), but clearly she is terrified of passing by or saying excuse me, thereby envoking my wrath. So I, as I have done so many times in this situation, turn around politely, smile, and say hello, and then proceed to press my body up against the merchandise, just so she can feel more than comfortable enough to make it out alive. So yes, I am an Ogre, a polite Ogre who plays video games and shops at Target, but an Ogre nonetheless. Yes, this must be my identity, thank you for reading this and helping me embrace it. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr......okay so that might be more pirate than Ogre, but thank you once again...