In which a teenager farts, but won’t admit it was her

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I’m just going to come right out and say it, one of the girls on my junior basketball team that I help coach farted and they won’t admit to it. Friday night my sister and I wound up taking three of our players to our game in Chase, and you know what? I like these girls. They’re pretty awesome and I think they’re hilarious. They also played a great game and they won. So yeah, I was pretty happy with them that night.

Or I was happy with them until we were driving home that night. There we were, cruising through some insane fog, the visibility was low, Tiff and I were making them listen to Missy Elliot, and the three teenagers we had crammed into the back seat of my mom’s truck were kind of quiet. That’s when I the smell hit me. It was disgusting. Like a fart, but rotten. And maybe a little burnt. This was burnt and rotten fart. I can barely describe this smell, but it was gross. It was like that rotten thing that you sometimes find in the back of your fridge and you have no idea what it was or when you bought it.

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Ok, It was like that thing I sometimes find in the back of my fridge and I have no idea what it was or when I bought it because I’m a disgusting human being and sometimes forget the things that wind up at the back of my fridge.

This thing was a silent assassin that could have killed us all.

At first I thought maybe it was the truck making that smell. Sometimes trucks make gross smells. Except no one was saying anything so I was wondering if maybe it was just me that could smell it? I sat there for a few seconds wondering how no one else could smell what I was smelling. It was burning my nose hairs off so how could no one else be complaining? Maybe it was the truck. I really hoped that it wasn’t the truck. If the truck was making a smell like that…

“Was that you?” my sister asked me.

“Oh good,” one of the girls said in the backseat. “I thought it was just me that could smell that.”

Everyone started chiming in how bad the smell was and how they were hoping someone was going to say something while we all rolled our windows down.

“If it had been me,” I told my sister, “I would have been giggling my ass off.”

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At that point everyone said they would have been giggling too if they had farted. Then we all sat there laughing at how we would have laughed over farting. Except no one would admit that it was them! Not a single person would claim that horrendous smell as their own. No one would admit that this stench had creeped out of their ass and into our noses. No one would own the stink they had created.

I bet that smell will come back to kill whomever abandoned it.

And honestly? I can definitely say that it wasn’t me. If it had been me, I would have locked the windows and made everyone bask in the ambiance of whatever the hell that smell was. Except whatever that smell was just really confused me. It also disgusted me, but at the same time it was confusing. Was it the truck? If it was the truck, what the hell was wrong with it that it would make that smell? Was it my sister? Was it one of the teenagers in the back seat? I had so many unanswered questions and all of them centered around one lonely and unclaimed fart. Mostly I was just confused about how anyone could make a stink like that without making a sound.

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Or giggling about it. If I had made the smell I definitely would have had a proper laugh about it.

So now I’m blaming one of the teenagers for it because it’s more fun to randomly ask them if they had made that smell than it is to ask my sister if it was her. Personally, I don’t blame them for not confessing. After all, I’m blogging about it now.

P.S. Work It by Missy Elliot came on and I was convinced that the teens in the backseat were kids when it came out. Tiffany Googled it and as it turns out, one of them probably wasn’t born and they other two were a year old when Work It came out.

 

How I Finished 2015

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2015 was a darn amazing year. Yes, there were times it sucked, but I had great friends who let me cry all over them and talk to them when I needed, so that’s ok. I survived and blah blah blah. If you’ve been reading my blog, you basically know what I’ve been up to all year. I went back to Wales, played basketball and netball, finished my degree, started my first grown up job and then I went back to Wales because I missed everyone. Well, after Wales I went to Edinburgh and fell in love.

Edinburgh is easily my third favourite city in the world after Paris and New Orleans. Once again, I fell asleep in a new city and woke up having no idea where I was. It took me a few minutes of looking around my tiny bunk area before I clued in that I was in Edinburgh and I was getting a tattoo that day! After dragging myself out of bed, grabbing a quick bite to eat, I was off to meet my tattoo artist and get some new ink!

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Gemma at Edinburgh Ink was my artist that day and she did a phenomenal job! Thanks, Gemma!

After my tattoo I met up with a friend who is from Scotland and we did touristy stuff around the city for the rest of the day. If there is any city in the world that does Christmas right, it’s Edinburgh. There are Christmas markets spread around the main area of the city that you can visit, plus lots of lights, bag pipers playing Christmas songs, and there is even a CHRISTMAS TREE MAZE!

I loved the Christmas Tree Maze!

I loved the Christmas Tree Maze!

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Edinburgh knows how to do Christmas. I did a happy dance seeing this.

On our way to the maze, I couldn’t stop skipping and hopping because I was so excited. Apparently I am a five year old. The maze wasn’t as big as I had hoped, but it was still fun to go through it and find Santa’s Workshop. My friend and I toddled through the maze while I giggled and couldn’t stop smiling. Basically, everything we did after the Christmas Tree Maze was a bonus. And there were a lot of bonuses! We wound up exploring the Scottish National Gallery, one of the Christmas Markets (we were looking for gnomes), and then he made me try a deep fried Mars bar, which I thought was very American, but it turns out it’s a Scottish thing. It’s basically deep friend diabetes and it was like chewing on Heaven.

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I was supposed to go and see the castle, but wound up on Portobello Beach. I can now say that I’ve put my feet in both the east and west coast waters of the UK!

Edinburgh was amazing. My last day there I woke up with a really bad cold so I had an easy day exploring used book stores, and then I met a guy from north Wales in a pub and wound up having lunch with him. Once he found out that I had studied in Wales he said that he’d buy me a shot for every Welsh word I could say correctly and he wound up buying me exactly 5 shots. We spent the afternoon drinking and laughing until it was time for him to go meet his friends and I decided to explore the city some more.

A sleeper bus is basically full of human sized cubby holes for people to sleep in.

A sleeper bus is basically full of human sized cubby holes for people to sleep in.

Eventually 10:45PM rolled around and it was time for me to board my sleeper bus to go to London for my last night in the UK. When I woke up the next day, I was in London! Later on that day I met up with Raz and Alex! I got huge hugs from both of them. At that point my cold had gotten worse so my excitement was killed by my asthma. We spent the afternoon handing out with each other and catching up. I couldn’t believe how much I missed them even though we picked right back up where we left off.

After a great afternoon with those two, I flew home the next day.

When I got home I jumped back into my regular coaching routine with my sister. Even though I loved my time in the UK, I missed my little sister the most and I’ve spent a lot of my time at home making up for the time I missed with her. We’ve been coaching Jr. Girl’s sports at our local high school together and had a successful volleyball season, and are now on our way to coaching a successful basketball season.

Merry Christmas from the Bowser siblettes!

Merry Christmas from the Bowser siblettes!

Christmas came and went in the Bowser household and I was happy to be home with my family. I was also happy to not have to worry about school for the first time in years. It was also Goliath’s first Christmas with us and he loved opening presents with Thumper.

Then before I knew it…LISA WAS IN BC!

My gremlin was with me so that meant I was back to crouching and slouching for our selfies.

My gremlin was with me so that meant I was back to crouching and slouching for our selfies.

I went down to the coast to visit her and Haylee and I couldn’t believe that it had been 5 months since I’d last seen my shorter half. I arrived on the 4pm bus. As soon as I stepped off the bus I ran to the bathroom because I really had to pee. I also needed to change out of my woolen long sleeve shirt because it was like springtime. When I was done I walked back out into the main area of the bus station and I saw her. My gremlin.

Before I knew it, we were hugging for the first time in forever and I couldn’t have been happier to see. I’d forgotten how tiny she was and…my arms were getting tired. Why were my arms getting tired? Why did Lisa seem taller than she normally did? Normally when we hug she nearly gets smothered by my boobs, but this time her face was at my shoulder level. Was the weirdo wearing heels?

Nope to all of the above.

I didn’t realize it, but I had picked the little weirdo up and was holding her off the ground while we hugged.

Mel, Haylee, Lisa, and I went out for a much needed night of dancing and shenanigans.

Mel, Haylee, Lisa, and I went out for a much needed night of dancing and shenanigans.

After I put her back down, we went off to get food and spend the day hanging out until Haylee got off work. Even though I’d forgotten how small she was, I didn’t forget how easy it was to be around her. Or how much fun Lisa, Haylee and I could have together. Yes, I’ve visited Haylee a few times, but I had missed the three of us being the three of us. One of our friends in the UK said it best about us, “A night with the Turdettes is always a good night.”

Like I said, 2015 was amazing. It started with a bang and ended with a bang. Mostly because my family has the yearly tradition of shooting off our rifles every year at midnight. This was also my third year in a row where I finished my year off taking a poop and started my year off…still taking a poop. I have no idea what 2016 is going to bring about, but if it’s anywhere near as amazing as 2015, I’m in for a great year. But 2016 shouldn’t feel like it needs to compete. If I have a quiet year, I’ll be ok with that as well. 2016 should just be itself and I’ll appreciate it for exactly that.

Gone Again

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I woke up snuggled up to a little old lady with curly white hair peaking out from under her hat. I wasn’t just leaning against her, I had shifted in my seat so that I was huddled against her with my face pressed against her shoulder. She was 5’3″ if she was lucky. My almost-giant self had cuddled myself around her. According to her I’d been huddled up to her like that for the last two hours. My bad.

Honestly, when I woke up, I had no idea where I was. I was on a train and…why was I on a train? Where was I going? My eyes hurt, I felt dehydrated, my throat was sore, and I was cold. Where the hell was I?

I sat up, stunned, and checked to make sure I hadn’t drooled on the little old lady and started the slow process of waking up and trying to remember why I was on a train.

He might have let me win that one pool game...

He might have let me win that one pool game…

Then I remembered! I was on a train to Manchester! I’d just spent the last week in Lampeter with all the friends that I hadn’t seen since June. Way too much happened in that week for me to write about. Needless to say, I had a great week with all the people that I’d missed and the new people that I met. I danced, I drank, I hung out, and I beat Pumba in two games of pool! The first game, I won on my own, but the second game I won because Pumba knocked the white in when he put the black in. I’m still happy that I actually played an almost decent game of pool.

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I can’t ever thank this one enough for my awesome week with her!

My last night in Lampeter was the Winter Ball. Instead of going to bed, I stayed up until I had to go catch my bus at 7am. From there I hopped on a train and promptly passed out in my seat. My week in Lampeter was nothing short of amazing and I can’t ever express how grateful I am for the people in my life who made my visit what it was. Especially Victoria who let me take over her room for the week. I got to see a lot of the guys that I’d missed during Old Boys, and I got to spend a lot of time with both Pumba and Josh over the week.

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We both went to the Winter Ball in our flannel tops…

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Molly! So stoked to have met this beautiful woman!

12321626_10100572631519803_4594441068180685522_nIt had been a busy week and I was exhausted. My next stop was a two hour stop in Manchester! I’d heard conflicting things about Manchester so I was excited to arrive and spent a little bit exploring the city while I waited to catch my next train. Except I wound up lost after walking around for 5 minutes and spent the next half hour trying to find my way back to the train station. Basically, I went down a street, got turned around, and suddenly had no idea where I was. With no wifi, I couldn’t figure out where I was and was thankful for all of the nice people who helped me find my way back to the station. In the station I found a Starbucks, ordered a hot chocolate, and sat down with all of my stuff. Within minutes a guy had sat down with me and said that I didn’t look like I was from around there. He was a local who worked in the station and we wound up talking until I had to leave to catch my train.

Hungover, but still ready to explore. Until I got lost.

Hungover, but still ready to explore. Until I got lost.

It wasn’t my train though. Two trains were leaving from my platform. The first train was going to Liverpool and I wound up on it. Thankfully a friendly gentleman asked where I was going. After I said I was on my way to Edinburgh, he was nice enough to tell me I was on a train to Liverpool. I couldn’t thank him enough as I grabbed my bags and scrambled off the train. I don’t know what I would have done if I had wound up in Liverpool!

Eventually I got on the right train and at 9pm that night, after 14 hours of travel, I was in Edinburgh! Despite sleeping on the trains, I was still tired. Or I was tired until I walked out of the train station and saw all of the Christmas lights, old buildings, and…everything! Excitement took over. My hostel was a five minute walk away and I quickly checked in, thinking I would shower and then go to sleep.

16yo me would think I'm awesome.

16yo me would think I’m awesome.

I didn’t. I was too excited. Edinburgh was one of the cities that 16-year-old me always wanted to see. Instead of showering, I gave myself the excuse that I wanted to buy a razor because I needed to shave and I went exploring. I spent the next half hour wandering up and down the streets near my hostel until I eventually found a little corner shop and bought a razor. I hadn’t shaved in nearly two weeks and all my parts were very Sasquatch-like, but…I wound up torn between exploring the city some more or going back to my hostel and shaving.

My new buddy, Tim, and I were ready for bed finally. Bed in EDINBURGH!

My new buddy, Tim, and I were ready for bed finally. Bed in EDINBURGH!

By midnight I found myself tucked into a bottom bunk in my hostel dorm. I was shaved, I was excited, and I was ready to…read the book that one of my favourite authors had just released. Nine chapters later I was passed out with an alarm set for 8am the next morning. I had a tattoo to get and I wasn’t going to miss that for anything!

Guess who’s back? Back again?

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By the time I arrived at the Carmarthen train station I was exhausted. After not sleeping on my plane, I wound up too excited to sleep on either of my trains. Every stop was one stop closer to when I’d get to see Josh, Victoria and Mike again. I knew I needed to sleep, but I just…couldn’t do it. I would force myself to close my eyes and tell myself to sleep, but then I would just sit there and smile with my eyes closed. It was probably more than a little creepy so I just gave up on that and sat there counting the stops until Carmarthen. I’d tell anyone who asked that I was going to Lampeter to see friends. OK, ok, I told anyone who dared to sit near me that I was going back to Lampeter to see friends and that I was beyond excited to see them even though I’d only been gone five months.

I’d already told Josh that unless Victoria ran at me, I was running right at him because he’s my favourite and I missed him the most.

But then I got off the train and all I could feel was exhaustion. I barely had the energy to lift my bags. I suddenly felt a little chilled, very hungry, and overall I was ready to collapse. I’d been awake for the last 24 hours and 20 of those hours had been spent travelling on planes and trains. At that point I felt ready to go comatose for at least a week. Then I saw Josh drive by in Mike’s car and suddenly I was excited all over again. My trip had felt very surreal until I saw Josh again. Then my trip was very real. I’d just seen Josh. Josh and Victoria and Mike were here to get me. I WAS IN WALES AGAIN!

Victoria and I. Missed this girl.

Victoria and I. Missed this girl.

Within seconds I’d picked my bags up and I basically skipped over to the parking lot to meet Josh, Victoria, and Mike. Just as I got into the car park, they were all getting out of the car. I wasn’t sure what to do until I saw Victoria getting ready to run so I dropped my bags and ran to her.

And ran into her like a fucking freight train.

As soon as my body slammed into hers, she made this weird noise and I knew I’d maybe winded her just a bit. Except I didn’t let go. Vick and I had been counting down the days to this moment for weeks and I was beyond ecstatic to see her. I did eventually have to let go though. She couldn’t breathe. My bad.

Easily one of our better pics together. We know how to selfie.

Easily one of our better pics together. We know how to selfie.

Then I hugged Josh who was chuckling over the sound that Victoria had made. Ahhh! I’d missed him!

My drop-off crew.

My drop-off crew.

Side Fact: Mike also dropped me off at the Carmarthen train station with Josh when I first left Wales. He and Josh basically picked me up exactly where the three of us left off. Except instead of Haylee, who dropped me off, Victoria came to pick me up.

After we were hugged out for the moment, we tossed my stuff into the trunk of Mike’s car, piled in and started the last leg of my journey to Lampeter. In the car Victoria and I poked and teased Josh. Then before I knew it, we were back in Lampeter and Josh and I were dropping our stuff off at Victoria’s, grabbing our gear and heading down to the sports hall for basketball training.

Hugging him after 5 months was awesome!

Hugging him after 5 months was awesome!

The first person I saw when I walked into the sports hall was Pumba! Never mind that I was kind of smelly and felt gross from travel, I still ran at him and hugged him. I couldn’t believe that I was actually back in Lampeter with some of my favourite people. Then Engine walked into the hall and it was Engine! It was awesome to see him before training started. After Engine left Josh quickly organized a 5-on-5 basketball game and we were off and running.

I was back and I couldn’t have been happier and I’d only been back barely an hour.

That time I tried to sleep on a plane and got flying lessons instead

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One of my finer quirks is my ability to sleep in almost any moving vehicle in almost any obscene position. I’ve woken up with sore necks, legs twisted and oddly stretched, and drool going places drool doesn’t normally go. Like down my cleavage because I’ve tucked my chin into my boobs while I was passed out. Anyway, the point is that on trains and automobiles, I can sleep like the dead. In fact, the best sleep that I sometimes get is in a car zooming along a highway.

Planes on the other hand? Not so much.

In fact, for whatever reason, I can’t sleep on planes no matter how hard I try. Sometimes I manage to snag a few minutes here and there, but it’s never a lot because…I have no idea. I just can’t sleep on planes. Maybe it’s the weird plane air? Maybe it’s being shoulder to shoulder with a stranger? I don’t know. It’s something though.

It’s not ideal. Especially on a 9 hour overnight flight from Vancouver to London. I mean, that’s a great time to sleep. It’s night, it’s 9 hours with nothing else to do besides watch plane movies, and everyone else is asleep. Plus this plane ride was really empty and I managed to find an empty middle row of four seats to stretch out on. My 5’9″ length fit perfectly along those seats. I’d gathered more pillows and blankets than I knew what to do with. I was drunk on vodka and Coke. Sleeping conditions were prime. There was no reason for me to pass right out.

So I did. I stretched out on my seats, snug under my blankets with my head nested in a wad of those odd mini pillows you get on planes, and I zonked right out. One minute my eyes were open, the next they were closed and I could feel myself quickly drifting off. Somewhere, I was gleefully clapping for joy because I was actually going to get some rest. I was going t-

GET TOSSED IN THE AIR BY TURBULENCE!

The plane shook, it rattled, and then it shook harder and that’s when my entire body popped up off my seats and I became airborne. I felt momentarily weightless as I got lifted in the air high enough that I saw over the top of the seats in front of me. Then I wasn’t so weightless as I slammed back down to the floor. My body just missed my seats and I became wedged between my seats and the row of seats in front of me. All over the plane several other people had gotten the same flying lessons as me, except I was the only one to wind up awkwardly slammed between seats.

As I lay there, I debating just staying on the floor. It was somewhat comfortable so there was that. Plus, with the way my body was squeezed in between the seats, there was no way for me to get another set of flying lessons so I just…stayed there. Until a flight attendant came to check on me and asked if I needed help. I didn’t and she made me get back up into my seats.

I wasn’t able to sleep after that so I spent the rest of my flight drinking, and watching Dirty Dancing, Minions, and Ice Age: The Meltdown. I didn’t get any sleep, but as my plane got closer and closer to London, I couldn’t bring myself to care. I was almost back in the UK, and almost back with the weird little family I’d left behind back in June. They wouldn’t mind if I turned up drunk and sleep deprived.

Dear Body, thank you

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Today, I’m going to write something a little more serious. You see, after I was done making plans for my volleyball practices this week I was tooling around on Facebook and went to look at the “On This Day” thingy and saw a post that I made three years ago. It was a status post saying thank you to my body. In it, I thank my body for all of the things that I liked about it because sometimes I don’t really like my body.

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Note: This is what I loved about my body. This in no reflects what I think your body parts should look like.

Actually, a lot of the time I don’t really like my body. I have never really actually ever “liked” my body. I’ve lied and said I did. At one point in my life I had the mantra that “I’d like to see most girls do what I can do” because at that time I was an elite athlete who was training 2-7 hours a day, seven days a week and I was proud of the abuse my body was able to take. At the time, teenage me didn’t know a lot of people who had the endurance that I had and while I didn’t like my body, I liked that it could go hard all day, crash hard a night, then wake up and do it all over again the next day. But once my life as a high level athlete was over, I was left with a body that ballooned out into what I am now.

Then this past May, my school put on a Summer Ball and it was time to “suit and boot”, as the football lads put it. So that night I tamed my mass of insane curls into neatly straightened locks, did my make up and eventually slid my formal dress over my head and let it settle around my thighs. The hem barely reached my knees. Looking down at myself, I felt a very sweet moment of acceptance. I liked what I saw. Countless hours spent on the basketball court had toned my thighs and calves, my boobs looked good even though they weren’t the perkiest (they still aren’t – gravity has taken a firm hold of them), and I thought the dress was just all around flattering on me even though my arms were bare and that made me a little self conscious. But you know what, I liked and accepted what I saw and that hadn’t happened for a very long time.

So reading this post that I made to my body three years ago really made me start to think about the fact that I really don’t give myself enough credit. I’m generally not nice enough to my body even I happen to live in it and look at it every single day that I’m awake. I figure that in the spirit of Canadian Thanksgiving, I should take the time to write to my body again and tell it all the things I’m thankful for.

Dear Body, 

Thank you again for my beautiful eyes that are bright and alive. Thank you again for the beauty mark under my left eye that makes me look like my mom. I love when people tell me that I look like her because I think that she’s beautiful. Also, thank you again for my nipples that I happen to think are delightful and the perfect toppings to my chesticles. I can’t thank you enough for letting my legs stay stay strong, or for letting me keep my boobs that are still flotation devices. 

I know I haven’t been the nicest to you over the years. I’ve cut you, bruised you, broken, fractured, torn, and sprained you. I’ve starved you out of anger and hate, made you tape anything that hurts so I can keep on playing, and I have this awful habit of picking at my scabs. I’m also overly amused by the disgusting things you do so I have a weird fascination with popping pimples and using Biore nose strips. 

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I would be delighted if my nose strip ever looked like this.

So, body? Thank you. 

Thank you for muscles that have memorized countless movements for every sport that I’ve ever played. I love that I can bump a volleyball as well as I did 10 years ago and still remember how to overhand serve. Thank you for the fact that I can roll down a hill and not get sick. Thank you for my long, thick hair that grows fast because that one haircut I got really screwed it up. I can’t thank you enough for letting me be the lovely 5 feet 9 inches tall that I am. I love my height so much. I now think that it’s a perfect height for me. There are countless more things that I can thank you for, and should thank you for, but I’d be sitting here all night writing. 

Thank you, body, for taking all of the abuse and hate and still letting me do all of the things that I love like run, jump, twirl, hug, and all the dirty stuff. Thank you for everything. 

With gratitude, 

Me. 

My boobs tried to kill me

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IMG_6840It’s 5:29am. I have to be awake at 6:10am to get ready to leave the house at 7:15am to coach volleyball at 8:30am. I woke up just past 5am and I should have gone right back to sleep. I should be getting another hour of sleep right now. Except I’m not and it’s because my boobs tried to kill me.

I’ll type that again for you in case you think you’re reading wrong: MY BOOBS TRIED TO KILL ME.

Initially I though this would be a cheeky Facebook status, but then I realized it needed some explaining. I also haven’t blogged in a week so this will be my weekly post. It works out, yo.

326170272_d186dfdea5_bI usually don’t have any issues falling asleep and will usually fall asleep on my tummy or side and sleep for a solid 4 hours. Except last night was a really stressful drive home for me because I had two teenagers in the car with me for the hour long drive and, thanks to the rain, the entire highway was Hydroplane City. I spent the entire drive home gripping the wheel and tediously steering the car around long stretches of puddles because I was terrified of crashing with the girls in the car with me. Normally, driving in the rain is no big deal to me. I like to drive. I like the rain. Put the two together with a good playlist and you’ve got yourself a good time. I’m a confident enough driver, and a good enough driver that I can handle hydroplaning and a drive home at night in the rain shouldn’t be a big deal. Unless there are two teenage girls in the car with me who I’m terrified for if something unexpectedly bad should happen. Sure, these girls are also my younger cousins and their mum totally knows that I’m slightly insane at this point, but she seems to trust me with her children. It shouldn’t be a big deal. Except it was. So I spent the entire drive home, gripping the wheel and doing my best to drive around the massive puddles that had formed on the highway. I didn’t want to have to do a Carrie Underwood and let Jesus take the wheel.

Anyway. I got home and I was really wound up from this stressful, but successful, drive home. I was really agitated and amped up from the drive and ended up tossing and turning and making Instagram posts until 1am. I eventually passed out while laying on my back while reading Alice in Wonderland.

Skip to 4 hours later and it’s just past 5am and I’m dreaming that a giant assed bird has put me in her nest and is sitting on me and her feathers are smothering. In my dream I am slowly being suffocated to death by this birds ass feathers. I start to panic because I actually am having a hard time breathing. I can’t breathe. Why am I struggling to breathe? I need to get this dumb birds butt away from me because her feathers are covering my nose and…

My eyes snap open. I’m awake. I’m still struggling to breathe.

WHY CAN’T I BREATHE?!

I’m about to panic and scream for my mom.

Then I fully awake up and realize that in my sleep I have shifted around in my sleep so that I’m on my back and my tits are in my face. My eyes focus and the light from the hallway lets me see…well, my boobs. All I can see are my chesticles and somehow they have moved to partially cover my nose and mouth. My tatas had basically moved so that my nose and mouth were mostly buried in their fleshy depths.

I’m not even sure how this is a thing. Yes, my boobs are big and I make jokes about how if I run with no sports bra on I can potentially knock myself out, but I never thought my boobs were big enough that if I slept in just right right position that I could potentially smother myself. So yeah, my boobs can totally kill me if they try hard enough.

But that also means I can totally motorboat myself if I really want to.