Happy Birthday? and/or History Majors Are Freaks

Tomorrow is my birthday. I do not like my birthday. I just submitted a Thought Catalog essay on the topic, so hopefully that gets accepted! I'll keep you loyal three fans of mine updated, of course. If it doesn't get published there, I'll post it here. Like a combo of sloppy seconds and just... rejected shit. You're welcome.

Two of things that I have done every year on or near my day of birth is (A) get all nostalgic, which can be good and bad, and (B) research shit that has happened on June 30 in years past. (You'd think I was a student of history or something, right?)

(A) I normally end up crying at some point. I almost never cry, so when I do, it's a hot mess. Here's where I stop talking about nostalgia, because it's risky in the tear duct area at the moment.

(B) Last night I learned that Jeffrey Dahmer committed one of his murders on my birthday in the year I was born in the city I was born in! That shouldn't end in an exclamation. It's messed up. But also, interesting. Right? Or am I just creepy? Whatever.

Why did I learn point (B) you ask? Well, while I was working at the front desk yesterday, I had the option of being productive or... not. I chose the latter. Obviously, this opportunity prompted me to go on Wikipedia and read about American murder cases, especially 19th century serial killers. I'm going to plead "history major" on this one and not "closet freak" because I'm really not. (Or am I? Just kidding. (Or am I?))

If you find this interesting as I do, or even mildly interesting, here are a couple of people/cases to consider reading into:
Bloody Benders
Jeffrey Dahmer -- YEAH, MILWAUKEE!
Walter Ellis -- YEAH, MILWAUKEE!!
Nannie Doss -- Only because her nickname was "Giggling Granny"

I have more, but I'll keep my creepy level down just a bit this evening.

UPDATE: Since I took all day to write this dang thing, it now actually is my birthday. So I'm going to consume this bag of chocolate covered peanuts and Diet Coke and watch 30 Rock until I fall asleep.

But, hey. If you wonderful people want to give me a present (which you do) and it's not the new True Blood line of makeup from Tarte (which it should be), consider telling a friend or six about this blog. If it has made you laugh, cringe, smile, or pray for my soul, chances are someone else... might... like it? Eh?

I leave you with Ron Swanson's feelings on birthdays:

Fresh Ink, Headdresses, Puns, etc.

UPDATE: The intro to this entry is a lie. I'm not in Florida anymore, but it's kind of funny, and I wish I was still there, so I'm good with living a lie in a run-on sentence format.

Hey, kiddos. I am still on vacation, sitting in Anna's bed with her dog while she is at work. Stayed up making sure Anna's brother became more worldly to make friends, aka showed him parts 1-13 of R.Kelly's classic hip-hopera "Trapped in the Closet".

Let me tell you about our New Orleans Adventures!!

DAY 1
We drove through the night running on only adrenaline and crazy and arrived in Nola around noon (or something, the point is kind of early). Got to the hotel, and our room was obviously not ready. So we dropped off our car and our stuff and commenced day drinking.

Day drinking can be the best thing ever or the worst thing ever. To help create a fun, friendly day drunk environment, follow these easy tips!

1. Pace yourself. Nothing ruins day drinking like too much too fast. Remember, it's daytime, so the sun is out. People can see you.
2. Keep in mind that everyone you interact with is probably sober. This is key, because you will definitely be laughed at. For example, as I articulated via text message to Allison, ‎"W are the laughing stoc k ignite joltek o" followed by "Wr are the laughing stock of the hotel". Oops.
3. If you are someone who texts drunk, have a safe drunk texting person. Actually, this is good advice for regular drinking as well. As stated above, Allison and I have an unspoken agreement that we can text/call each other in times of drunk, and it is acceptable. This is extremely important, because if you have your phone out and no one you really need to say anything to, sober or drunk, you will most certainly end up calling and ex, crush, or boss. It is a terrible truth for those of us who believe that communication is important, even when it is clearly not at all.
4. Don't go into stores. Drunk shopping is expensive shopping.
5. Wash your hands. You might do shit like this:

BYOTire

6. Schedule a nap time. If you intend on continuing your activities into the night, your options are either (A) take a nap or (B) probably die. In our case, we took a 5 hour nap, woke up at 10, rallied, and went out again.

Proof that we rallied and managed to look good

Following my tips, you are almost guaranteed a wonderful day drinking experience. Optional: follow Annalise's and my example with the [soon-to-be] classic CHUMBAWUMBA PUB CRAWL. 

For those of you who don't understand the concept of the pub crawl based on title alone, allow me to explain through the brilliant lyrics of "Tubthumping": He drinks a Whiskey drink, he drinks a Vodka drink. He drinks a Lager drink, he drinks a Cider drink. Quite simple. Repeat.

DAY 2
Yeah, bitches, got a tattoo.

Day 2 consisted of way more day drinking, including classy beverages such as a mimosa that was 98% champagne (in a plastic cup because we got it to-go) and delicious Abita craft beers and also some less classy drinks like our "SHOTS" pub crawl. For the sake of truth, the pub crawl was one bar post-tattoo and the "SHOTS" crawl was much less lyrically accurate than our Chumbawumba success. It mostly just involved Annalise making me do shots. For the record, I hate shots. Alcoholic, medical, from a gun that I am not shooting, etc.

We took another nap (see a pattern?!) and went out again, starting at the Absinthe Bar on Bourbon. I swear to Jesus, if anyone gives me crap about whatever we drank and how it wasn't real absinthe, I will lose it. The point is that the shots were $20 and tasted like shit and 136 proof and killed Anna. Not really, but homegirl was out before it was her real birthday at midnight.

Did I mention she was wearing a headdress? Idol

She waited to pass out until after bull riding

This brings me to the portion of the story where I made friends. While Anna was riding the bull, I got a new girlfriend!! It went something like this.

Alicia: [sitting at bar]

Romanian Girlfriend: Hello. I am love your tattoo. It is new?

A: Oh, thank you! It's new.

RGF: So sexy. You ride bull, yes?

A: No, no, thank you.

RGF: [hands coupon to ride bull for free]

You are sexy beautiful. Where are you from?

A: Minneapolis.

RGF: What is Minakfgkafs? I am from Romania.

A: Minnesota.

RGF: Where is Minnesota? But yes, you are beautiful sexy. You must ride bull and do shot.

A: Okay, I will.

[runs away]

So, I'm rounding that scenario up to having a new Romanian girlfriend, jealous?

The pun portion comes in at the name of the bar: BOURBON COWBOY. Get it? Bourbon Street. Rhymes with urban. I love puns. Not ironically, genuinely.

Anyway, after Anna had sleepy time, I decided it was too early to quit, so I ventured out toward Decatur. Since it was rainy, homeless folk were lining the sidewalk. One told me I was going to have a boy and asked me to pet her pet bat. I said in my head, "Hey! If you're accusing me of being pregnant, that is rude. If you're talking about finding a boyfriend, that's just a lie. Also, where are half your teeth?!" Aloud, I said, "What? Bye!"

I went to a townie bar where they had Strawberry Abita lager on special and did sodoku and played Patsy Cline on the jukebox and talked to the bartenders about the Midwest. It was great. Got beignets, went back to hotel.

I love New Orleans.

I apologize that this is hardly my best writing, I just feel like there's so much to say about this trip and it's better to be efficient than eloquent. But, to be fair, I feel like that's usually my way of going about things.

Now that I'm back, I'm in a major post-vacation crash period. Definitely started crying in the cab ride home, oops. Sorry Somali cab driver!! Real life is hard and I miss Annalise and Nola and being allowed a temporary alcoholic lifestyle. I'll sleep it off tomorrow and it will be improved, I'm sure.

If you got through all this, let me know that I owe you a firm handshake of appreciation.

Goin' Back to New Orleans & Super Post

I had the intention to post a few times this week, because I have so many [important] things to share!!! However, as per usual, time got lost on me, so the result is what I will refer to as a super post. Get ready, kiddos. As usual, it will be divided into subsections because I hate and am terrible at transitions.

Goin' back to New Orleans

If you have ever met me, you know I love the South. If you know me at all, you know I have a specific love for New Orleans. It's such a unique, beautiful, lively city, even after Katrina completely ravaged it not so long ago. Well, I am going back! Tomorrow I am flying to Orlando to be with my beautiful darling sharkface Annalise, and we are driving to Nola to celebrate her golden birthday!

Brief backstory on me and Anna: Since I have known Anna, I have had the utmost admiration for her. When we were younger, I basically wanted to be her. She is hilarious and beautiful and so intelligent and I love her to death.

Exhibit A: first evidence of friendship obviously involves pretending to shoot a statue

Anna and I have kept in touch and remained close longer than anyone else. We can go literally years without seeing each other and nothing will feel different. I love her like a sister, which is essentially what she has been to me.

Exhibit B: Anna visits me in Wisconsin and we are hilarious

Exhibit C: first trip to Nola, we are still hilarious

Now that's out of the way.

We are returning to Nola this week and I could NOT be more excited. Also, as a follow-up to my last post, I have a tattoo appointment booked at Electric Ladyland and I am way too excited. Obviously photos will follow. This also means I probably won't be writing next week since I will be on adventures, I hope you can find a way to cope.

Papa Roy!!!

Speaking of tattoos, my dad wants to getting a matching one of my next piece. Obviously, this is precious. Hint: I'm getting some sort of skull.

And speaking of my father bear, HAPPY FATHER'S DAY, FATHERS!! Especially mine. He's the best there is.

Exhibit D: my best Father's Day gift yet--Old Spice deodorant (because I liked the sailboat)

a Karaoke Adventure

This past Monday, Kelsey and I went to a local dive/karaoke bar in Northeast Minneapolis and let me just list all the things that were awesome about this night. I am mostly writing this so I don't forget how epic it was.

Happy Hour started our evening out at 5:30 - $10/person

Adventures down by the Mississippi - spotted a beaver and a crane, pranced around in the water, may have contracted diseases (the river is dirty)

Target run - new shoes, God bless America

Karaoke bar - awesome bartender, cheap drinks, karaoke regulars who keep singing because they know they're good, shots purchased by random drunk people, getting hit on by middle-aged men, karaoke renditions of Amy Winehouse and CCR, making friends with a 60-year-old "gay boy", not leaving til bar close - total cost for both tabs? $25. OH WAIT until our new oldish gay manfriend PAID THE TAB FOR US.

Went home, made cinnamon rolls

THE NIGHT WAS OURS!!!!

It should be noted that we sang "Rehab" by Amy Winehouse first because we thought it was funny since we were at a bar on a Monday night and were fairly intoxicated. Apparently hit too close to home for... everyone, since they were also in a bar on a Monday and also intoxicated. Lesson learned: alcoholic humor not universal.

another thing that sucks about being Catholic

Innate fear of demon possession combined with a desire to watch movies about demon possession. Okay, maybe this is a problem really specific to me, but it is indeed a very real problem to all those it effects (me).

It totally makes sense to be interested in films closest to your own experience, but when that experience is being Catholic and a side effect of that is shit like exorcisms, it's rough. Today I watched The Exorcism of Emily Rose and it was so freaky. Keep in mind that I am a wimp, but I was definitely curled in a ball begging for Laura Linney's mercy, a position I never wish to be in again. That being said, I also really enjoyed it. Go figure.

But in all seriousness, I can handle stuff like monsters and vampires and whatnot. Probably ghosts, even. But throw a demon movie at me, and I am terrified. I also watched Jennifer's Body, but I don't want to talk about that as much. Adam Brody really made me sad, a phrase I never wished to utter.

playlist

It started about being completely New Orleans themed, and then sort of morphed into part Nola, part songs that remind me of Nola, and part just some songs I am really into right now and want to share. Hope ya'll enjoy!

Nola Playlist

1. Going Back to New Orleans - Mason Jennings

2. Jackson Square - Mason Jennings

3. Lakes on Pontchartrain - The Be Good Tanyas

4. Settle Down - Kimbra

5. The House of the Rising Sun - The Animals

6. New Orleans - Trampled by Turtles

7. Born on the Bayou - Creedence Clearwater Revival

8. Walkin' After Midnight - Patsy Cline

9. Proud Mary - Creedence Clearwater Revival

10. Ramblin' Man - The Allman Brothers Band

11. To the Dogs or Whoever - Josh Ritter

12. Hey Hey Hurray - Ryan Bingham & the Dead Horses

13. Bad Moon Rising - Creedence Clearwater Revival

14. Move Over Mama - Justin Townes Earle

15. Nikorette - Conor Oberst & the Mystic Valley Band

...Hope you guys like CCR.

First Impressions and/or Worst Impressions

I am known amongst my friends as someone who is quite judgmental about seemingly random, highly specific things when I meet new people. Though this is something I continue to work on, I would like to take this opportunity to defend myself with some examples of major turn-offs and why they bother me so. So maybe I'm still being a judgmental ass, but at least you'll understand my logic? Eh?

SCENARIO: I ask, "What kind of music do you like?" They answer, "Oh, you know, anything but country."
LOGIC: It's a lie!!! You don't like ANYTHING but country! I know it in my heart as well as my brain. If you say this, you are essentially telling me that you are an ass. I normally reply to this lie with a lie of my own by acting offended and saying, "YEAH, WELL, Carrie Underwood is my idol!" Yeah, the only Carrie Underwood song I know is the one about ruining some dude's car (which seems excessively rude at best), but that's not the point. The point is, I feel like that statement is so holier than thou in and of itself to put literally every other genre of music above one extremely lucrative one. Now, I am by no means a country fan, but I'm also not a fan of Thai monks chanting (nor do I know if that's a thing that exists), so I would never say this statement. Also, I'm not an asshole.

SCENARIO: Friend of a friend, we're all going out tonight. They say something along the lines of, "I hope there are hot guyzzz there tonight!"
LOGIC: No shit. The verbalization of this makes me think you are kind of skanky, which is a bummer. I also cannot think of any occasion where I am preparing to leave for an evening and have thought, "Wow, I really hope there are only unattractive, boring people at this party/bar/event tonight! That would be great." Thus brings me back to my first point: No shit. This is hardly a deal breaker, but it definitely annoys me a great deal. Fun fact: Happens way more often than it should, perhaps adding to why it is on this list.

A LIST OF SELF-EXPLANATORY SCENARIOS:
Weak handshakes
When people shout "SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS" and are referring to alcohol and not warning of gunfire
"I can't eat that, I'm vegan" -- I can't talk to you, I'm American
People who don't like kittens (are probably serial killers DO NOT TRUST)
People who fist pump and consider it a legitimate substitute for dancing
The phrase "I would hit that" when it's not referring to Adam Levine (see Exhibit A)
Eye-contact averters when you clearly know the person
Probably other things

Exhibit A

(Shirtless photo would explode this blog. Google at your own risk.)

That felt good. Therapeutic. Now, for the sake of fairness, I will share some of my own oddly specific quirks that you are allowed to judge me on. Didn't think they were weird until recently.

Whenever I hear the word "drink" I think it is "dream". This one goes first because it has almost gotten me in trouble on countless occasions. Por ejemplo, last night at the bar I was asked, "Can I buy you a drink?" Normal question. However, I initially hear, "Can I buy you a dream?" Thus, I almost SHOUTED at the poor guy, "YOU DON'T HAVE THAT POWER!" before catching myself, realizing I am crazy, and answering appropriately. Is this an actual psychological thing? There's no way of knowing, because reading into it would take away from how funny it is... maybe only to me.

I am an extremely picky eater, based 98% on food texture. This one sort of explains itself, but has gotten me made fun of by most of my friends, and always my mom. (Who I just found out reads this bad boy--HI, MOM!! Stop making fun of me!! It's mean.) Like, I love orange-flavored things, but the texture of oranges weirds me out.

I am terrible at flirting. Which my mom also pointed out to me this week. (Be nicer to me, mom!!! I will call you out on the internet!! The two other people who read this blog are going to laugh at YOU!!) I blame this on two things. One, I had the same boyfriend all through high school, so prime obnoxious learn-to-flirt time was skipped. Never had to. Was lazy. Awesome at the time, kind of a bummer now. Two, I am kind of a weird girl to begin with. Woops.

I know all the words to ODB's "Got Ya Money". Yeah, I'm not ashamed of this at all. Just threw it in kind of to brag. Not sorry.

Hope that provided enough random facts about my psyche for one day. I refuse to read through this entry because it probably reveals a lot about me and self-discovery is for another time. 30 Rock is for now. Sometime this week I will be posting again with a theme entry that includes another playlist! Happy music fun times! Until then, goodnight, Mom and whoever else reads this.

Feelin' Inky

After getting my wisdom teeth out on Tuesday, I have been doing a great deal of heavily-medicated sitting around and television viewing. Thanks to my parents having the voodoo technology of Netflix instantly on the TV, I have watched all of Arrested Development, season one of Swamp People, and season one of LA Ink. The medication and programming choices have led to two things: crazy dreams and a major desire for some fresh ink.


I love tattoos. I think they are great. For the sake of full disclosure, I should explain that I was raised by a couple of inked up parents, so I am probably (definitely) biased. I remember being a young'un imagining not if I would ever get a tattoo, but what I wanted to get.


That being said, tattoos were never taken lightly in my family. I remember that my dad especially, as he inkier of my parents, always emphasized that tattoos are a permanent art form, and should be viewed as such. At this point my dad has, I want to say... over 10 pieces? My mom says he looks like he just busted out of prison and he looks at it as an art gallery, mostly comprised of skulls/skeletons. My father is sort of a bad ass.


I got my first tattoo as my 18th birthday present from my dad. We went to Gothic Body Tattoo in Milwaukee, WI. The Roy family mentality of "go big or go home" got the best of both of us that day. Papa Roy walked out with two pieces on either side of his bicep and I brought home my biggest piece thus far, my Virgen de Guadeloupe.

She's a colorful one, ain't she? I wanted my first piece to represent a lot of things. Mostly, it's about being raised Catholic--Catholic school, super religious grandmother, etc. (I used to memorize prayers for fun. What the what?) I have always loved the symbol of the Virgin Mary, and am a huge fan of Catholic art, especially Latin American Catholic art. I knew that, as an 18-year-old girl, I had no idea of what my future would hold. However, you can't change your past, and how it has shaped you. Thus, it's a safe bet to get a tattoo that pays a tribute to that.

I waited about six months before getting #2, once again going with my dad. This time we went to Pape's Blue Ribbon Tattoo in Shorewood, WI.

I lovelove the script on this one. It reads, "the inevitable fifth," and is from my favorite book Fifth Business by Robertson Davies. In the book, at least how I interpreted it, the fifth business is someone who is more of an observer 99% of the time, but is actually of huge significance. That's a really poor way of explaining it, so you should really just read the book, BUT, it obviously struck a chord with me.

My most recent piece was my birthday present to myself last year, done at Atomic Tattoo in Milwaukee, WI (the East Side location in case anyone is concerned). This tattoo is definitely the most meaningful in the sense that it has so many different significances to me. WHICH I WILL LIST!

1. My favorite, easiest, and most common explanation: "I'm French as f**k, man." Due to vulgarity, people rarely ask for me to elaborate. But, really. My last name means "king" in French, and the fleur de lis is a symbol of French royalty. Thus, this was my way of showing my pride for where I come from. The timing was significant as well, since I wanted to get it before my Grandpa Roy passed away (he was fighting a battle with lung cancer at the time).

2. My best friend/prison boyfriend/essentially my sister also has a fleur de lis tattoo. This is self-explanatory. Using science, Annalise and I have determined that if you have matching tattoos, you must, in fact, be related. You can't argue with science.

3. I love New Orleans more than I love most other nouns, proper or otherwise. I'll be back in Nola in less than two weeks, and let's all cross our fingers that my tattoo gets me free drinks when I'm out in the Quarter!

Now presenting:

FAQz ABOUT MY TATTOOz

DISCLAIMER: I will be making fun of the average person who asks these questions. A pet peeve of mine is when people ask questions without caring about the answer, they just ask to ask.

1. OMG WUT DOES IT MEAN?! See above.

2. OMG U R BRAVE DOES IT HURT?! Yes. It does. I feel like anyone who says tattoos don't hurt is sort of full of shit. I hate the process of getting tattooed, but I love the product, so it's worth it. Also, yes, I am brave.

3. How will you ever get a job? I WON'T!!!!

4. Do you think you will be able to find a husband who likes tattoos? Okay, this isn't frequently asked. However, my least favorite HIGH SCHOOL teacher asked me this, and then I punched him in the face! No, I didn't. I just sort of stared at him blankly. If I'm ever asked this again, I will respond the same way.

In conclusion: F. I really want some fresh ink. Time to crunch some numbers and see if I can afford one. I already started looking at tattoo shops in Nola, woops. Donations accepted.

Kat Von D is hot. Here is a photo.

NOTE: If you have any questions about my tattoos or tattoos in general, I almost promise you will not get made fun of. Overall, I really like talking about my inky experiences. If I liked emoticons more, I would probably put a smiley face here.