Sunday, February 19, 2012


Let's talk about the flea market at the Laurel Mall, which is still pretending to be a mall.

Sure, it has stores, but they're all thrift stores that smell like dust and sell the most random assortment of items known to man. I mean, where else can you find old bottles of Coke, antique china, Reagan paper dolls, vinyl records, incense, and groceries?

Today's haul was $25 worth of records, most priced at $1 each. You do the math. Despite the aforementioned variety, we didn't purchase anything crazy. But it's there for the taking. The groceries might be questionable--I have no idea how old they are--but the produce looked pretty good. I just have a mental issue with buying produce at the Laurel Mall flea market.

I don't have an issue with the hippie booth, though. Among lovely tie-dyed clothes, tapestries, and the only guidebook a human needs, they also sell lots of nice hats, scarves, incense, and incense burners. I stocked up on incense there once, along with a bottle incense burner. My dad took one look at it and said, "That's a bong." Not so.

I also don't have an issue with anyone selling records, cassettes, or CDs. If you have the patience to dig through boxes and sneeze a lot and need to wash the dust off your hands, you'll find true treasures. My friend got a Jerry Lee Lewis record today. I had no cash on me. This might be the worst day of my life. Previous finds include the life stories of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln and My Father's Mustache, "the gayest music of the '90s."

The greatest flea-market find of all, though, was this.

That would be a leather couch and a leash love seat behind it. The attractive dog creeping in the corner is Lucy.

The total was $50. For both of those items. And they only had a little bit of sun damage. The clerk told us if we just got some shoe polish for them, they'd look good. And so, the same friend with the massive record haul earlier today went home, got her pickup truck, and the two of us along with my cousin hauled these couches back to shine them up real good.

I did ride on the couch in that back of that truck very briefly down her very long driveway. It was glorious.

Two cushions. The one on the left was not yet treated with our blood, sweat, and tears. The one on the right was. It's not perfect, but it was going in a college apartment and still looks way better than the other. Plus I spent most of last night on this couch and it's incredibly comfortable and still looks awesome.

The three of us then changed into our finest wife beaters (again), plaid, and flannel for annual White Trash Night.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Twitter Keeps on Winning

This is why I love the internet.

The latest silly Twitter creation is @GeibelProblems. Obviously, the audience is more limited on this one. Only Geibel students/alumni will truly understand it, but since public-school kids love(d) to ridicule us, they may enjoy it, too. It may also offer insight into my brain. School uniforms have a lot to do with why I own nothing green.

As usual, it's quite accurate.

You wonder: What will happen if you don't get a permit for the student parking lot? #GeibelProblems
2/16/12 6:16 PM

Doesn't matter. The principal will probably tell you when he's checking for them. Take the bus that day.

Hump day? Oh you mean baked potatoes for lunch #GeibelProblems
2/16/12 5:00 PM

I never bought a lunch at Geibel. No idea why. I did every day in middle school, probably because after Montessori, the entire concept was new to me. I went back to my old ways of taking a lunch in high school. I also started turning into a real super nerd then. I played Scrabble at lunch. That's what we had back in the day before iPhones and Words with Friends, kids (play with me! I'm LittleJanelle!). But the point is even I know baked potato day was a BIG DEAL. I knew seniors who would race down there as fast as they could to get to that baked potato bar.

I think my favorite part about this Twitter, though, is that it was a random discovery by someone I follow that exploded among other Geibel kids. At that point, they hadn't tweeted in nearly a month. They sent out a solid batch of tweets for the first time yesterday.

So, let's get on @ConnAreProblems, clever Twitter Catholic-school survivors.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Bomb Threat

A bomb threat has been reported at Connellsville High School, as confirmed by concerned parents on Facebook and Herald-Standard crime reporter Josh Krysak.

Bomb-sniffing dogs have been called in and the kids have been moved up to Junior High East, but apparently were not moved the other day when there was a gas leak and kids were starting to feel sick.

You spoiled public-school kids. You know what happened at Conn Area when there were escaped convicts and thugs and gas-truck explosions and car break-ins? No recess outside.

Note: I wasn't there for 99% of those events. In fact, the day the truck exploded across town, I was home sick by myself and the power went out and I had no idea why.

You know what the Montessori nuns did after Columbine when there were all kinds of crazy threats and everyone was scared? The same thing my dad did: not a damn thing.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Fayette County Bar Life

Before I left the Nam to the world of ridiculous Mt. Washington parking, I had one last weekend hurrah. First stop: Lynn's. I used to live kind of close to Lynn's. Apparently, lots of former Conn Area and Geibel students go there (what happened to the Paint Room, guys?) and Leah, queen of this blog, is the mayor on Foursquare.

I'd never actually been there before. The food was good and well-priced, as were the drinks, although those were a bit strong. In a way, it reminded me of a small Bud Murphy's without the strict carding and wing-night angst.

And then we hit faithful Sherwood's, where I learned a valuable lesson about wearing white knit hats: People will ask if/assume you are Amish. When you tell them you're not, they'll assume you haven't washed your hair that day. Because, you know, the fact that it's winter and the hat is cute is irrelevant.

I'd never have this problem if I wore trucker hats or beanies or bright orange or camouflage.

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Too Much

Oh my God, FayetteCtyProbz is my life.

How the hell am I gonna manage getting my child to kindergarten and me to high school all in one morning?! #fayettecountyproblems
2/9/12 12:31 PM

1) When I was in middle school taking Home Ec at the local public school, where everyone thought we were Amish because of our uniforms, there was a girl who used to come in at the end of every period to talk to the teacher for God knows what reason. I once overhead her say, "I'm not pregnant no more, Ms. Bruner." I didn't hear anything before of after that.

2) At that same public school as we waited for the bus to take us back to our Catholic haven for the rest of the day, we all turned to the stairs when we heard someone walking down. We were met with an irate pregnant girl who assumed we were gawking and said, "What? Ain't you never seen a pregnant person before?"

3) My senior year of high school, someone did get pregnant. Because I went to a Catholic school, we only had a pregnancy about once every four years, which coincided with Mr. Stevenson's Lord of the Dance (I'll show you for St. Patrick's Day). Because I went to a Catholic school, said pregnant girl was told to finish the year at home. Because I went to a Catholic school, the cool teachers told us and everyone already knew anyway.

Old teachers buying you shots at the bar!!! #notaproblem
2/9/12 12:32 PM

Okay, so I haven't actually lived this one, but I've come close. I've been at parties with former middle-school teachers and played beer pong with them. I know where my high school teachers hang out and I know people who have gone out with former teachers, so this isn't out of the question. The best I've done is civil meals with some of my favorites.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Fayette County Problems

Just a reminder to like the Facebook page and follow me on Twitter. A lot of little stuff gets posted and retweeted respectively that's not worthy of entire blog posts. Like the fact that I didn't find out that the Boston Beanery has $4 Long Island iced teas until after I moved to Pittsburgh (I will never get an Amaretto sour for $2.50 again!), every time Newbauer's Flowers has some new Vera Bradley event, and everything FayetteCtyProbz says.

That's right. Some glorious genius made a Fayette County Problems Twitter account. I don't know who it is,  but I think we should be best friends.

It jokes about things like a "Real Housewives of Fayette County". Only in my dreams! Can some of you creative people please make this the "Pittsburgh Dad" of the Nam? It calls out most residents for hating it but never leaving. I'm in the lucky minority that made it now, even if I'm only in a temporary home with three other people.

The account does get a bit cynical, stereotypical, questionable, and distasteful with comments on women having many children to different fathers and the welfare system, but overall, it's wonderful and funny. For outsiders, it's a good way to keep the ridicule going. For those of us who have lived through more deer meat than any human should encounter, we can relate.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Jumping Ship

I write this not from usual bedroom in the Nam in Lemont Furnace with various sex offenders down over the hill but from a nice little bedroom in a rented house on Mt. Washington, where I now live.

That's right, Fayette County. I've abandoned you.

But never fear! I will not stop talking about your shenanigans and I will be back. Aside from my boyfriend, family, and friends, I could never leave Sherwood's or the annual fair.

And remember--you can take the girl out of the Nam, but you can't take the Nam out of the girl.