Why are we looking for him, again?

Two posts in one day?! And within less than 2 hours of each other?! This is surely some kind of Hole in the Road record!!! Lets celebrate with fruit snacks!

Any-who's, time for my story. Since I have no job and I'm not going to school at the moment, I pretty much sit around all day doing whatever. And today, "whatever" included watching AFI tour videos, lol-ing at Smith's antics, being perplexed by Davey's makeup choices, and "Ohs furoobita!"-ing* Hunter. Just then, I happened to look out the window and see two cute blonde boys walking down my scary, steep driveway.

Normally, I don't go after blondes, I much prefer brunettes, but these guys were cute. One of them had emo glasses and long-ish hair and the other had shorter hair and freckles and both of them were wearing spiffy looking black jackets. All in all, not the best guys I have ever seen, but pretty damn good.

They both looked sort of confused, so I figured they were lost or something like that. So I answered the door ready to dazzle them with my know-how of Brighton roads, and maybe leave a good impression and get a phone number. But the second I opened the door, I realized that these guys weren't lost, but on one of the most annoying missions of all: door-to-door Bible thumping.

"Have you found Jesus Christ?", says the short-haired, freckled boy. Normally, my response to that question would be "YOU LOST HIM?!?!", but for some reason, all I could find myself saying was "...Uh..." Thankfully, neither of them were too preachy. They just gave me a little pamphlet and were gone in less than 5 minutes.

I went back to watching AFI, slightly sad, slightly amused. Unfortunately, in Brighton, this kind of occurrence isn't too rare. I swear, there are more Bible-thumpers in Brighton than there are trees and most of them aren't quick to the point like the blondes. They drag it out for as long as they can, hoping that eventually your resolve will weaken and you'll do whatever they want. The worst ones are the ones that act like care about you and insist that you can be "saved" only if you join such-and-such a church. Saved from what? Is Slender Man after me?

Also, on an only slightly related note, if I ever get a dog of my own I kinda want to name him Jesus Christ. That way, if he ever runs away, I can go to all my neighbor's houses and ask them "Have you found Jesus Christ?!", and the first one to answer with "YOU LOST HIM?!" gets a prize. More likely than not, though, I'll end up naming my dog Sirius or something else nerd-like.

That is all for today, unless Joo decides to post something to keep the streak going. YOU CAN DO IT!!

~Peanut

*"Ohs furoobita" is how Sims express attraction to another Sim in the Sims 2. Yes, that means I like Hunter, YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT?!?!

Huzzah! Did I spell that right? I don't know, I almost spelled spell wrong. Woo, I'm tired. Anyway, I thought me and my three arm wounds should up date the county blog. Because, Freaks of Suburbia never die, even if no one reads about us. Anyhoodles, things at Brighton High are going smoothly, minus the Pinkney Freshman Face-Punch.

One of my friends punched this annoying Pinkney Freshman (okay, his name's Kyle, but I call him Pinkney Freshman, as you can see.) in the face, because he was like trying to take off my friends shirt, and my friend was like, "oh, no you didn't." And he punched him. I was sad because Kyle didn't have a shiner the next day.

Shit, I forgot what else I was going to inform our none-existing readers about. COME ON PEOPLE! EVERYONE LOVES FREAKS!

Bleh, other then me slamming my phone shut just now, in the middle of class none-the-less, nothing really important is happening anymore. Hm.... I think that's it, but wait and see what us freaks post next.

-S

Marshall's Law: No Chucks For Grown-Ups and Goat Purses

I have been a bad little Peanut, not posting on here as often as I said I would. But I have returned to tell all you little kiddies a story.

Today my mom and I went to Marshall's to return a rug. It's been a while since I've been there, but I always used to buy most of my clothes from there so I figured I might find something I liked. So after we returned the rug, we separated to do our own thing. While looking in the "The Cube", which is supposed to be the part of the store for the "hip" that replaced the perfectly good young women's section a few years ago, I noticed plain t-shirts that I spent all of high school searching for were pretty much everywhere. Of course, now I don't want plain t-shirts.

Escaping from the terror of "The Cube", I went to Joo's favorite part of the store: shoes. I bought a pair of Chucks there a few years ago, so I decided to look for a new pair. Unfortunately, the only pair that they had in women's sizes were brown, and I have a strange personal vendetta against brown shoes. The Chucks that I would actually consider wearing, black with red and light blue with white, where kid's sizes. Now I know how Joo and T-Bag feel when they put their average sized feet next to my minuscule size sixes. Yes, I actually tried some of them on. Shut up.

To drown my Chuck-less sorrow, I wandered around the rest of the store aimlessly. Then, in the purse section, I saw something that made my inner vegan cry: the goat purse. This thing literally looked and felt like a dead goat. The only reason I touched it was because I wanted to look at the label inside to see if it was real fur. I didn't need to look at the label, I know what goat fur feels like. The only thing that terrified me more than the purse itself was the thought that someone out there would actually use it. Those poor goats...

After finally leaving (all I got were some PJ's), we went to a Mediterranean restaurant called La Meena, or something along those lines. There I told my inner vegan to shut the hell up so I could om nom nom on some traditional Mediterranean chicken stir fry. While there, however, I was confronted with one of my biggest pet peeves; why do restaurants insist on giving you a crap load of food you don't even want before you can actually get the meal you ordered? I can barely eat the over sized plates they give you in the first place, but top that with all those tiny "appetizers" they force on you, I can hardly even take two bites of the dish I actually wanted! Why do they call them appetizers anyway? You don't get more hungry by eating more food! And of course, when we were done eating, the waitress glared at me for asking for a box to put my barely touched stir fry in. What do you expect after eating a salad and basket of bread you insisted on me getting? (I only ate a few bites of the salad, but seriously, who can resist the allure of warm bread?)

So, yeah, that's pretty much it for my complaining. Next time you see a goat, make sure that someone isn't planning on turning it into an ugly purse.

High and Mighty Coffee Men, Stupid Restaurant Hostesses, and Pole Shoes

Whew. Long title. Okay, so us Freaks of Suburbia have encountered some strange things and people in Livingston County (mainly in Brighton). For instance: Green Oak Subway Lady. The three of us were at Subway, getting dinner. I was ordering my dad's sub, and I asked for all of the vegetables except olives - my dad hates them with a burning passion. Subway Lady put olives on my dad's sub, and I was like, "Um, I asked for no olives," in an unusually polite manner. Subway lady then proceeded to argue with me about whether or not I asked for no olives (I had two witnesses here, people!), and topped it off by calling me a liar.

That was a few months ago. Our next crazy encounter happened a couple days after Shelby's birthday, when Abby and I were shopping for her presents, and we saw this, outside of Target.

I was all, "Is that a shoe?!" And Abby was like, "Wow, great Davey Havok moment." (see also: Is that your fucking shoe?) And then she realized that I was actually talking about a toddler's shoe on a pole in the parking lot of Target. Good times.

But our most recent strange encounters took place at Tim Horton's and Red Robin, respectively. Last Saturday, the three of us stopped off at Tim's to get our usuals: for Shelby and Abby, iced capps, and for me, a French vanilla cappuccino. Shelby ended up paying for her delicious frozen coffe all in quarters, and the guy behind Abby in line was glaring at her like change isn't a valid form of currency. And then, it turned out that Shelby was short like, twenty-eight cents, or something like that, and she asked me if I had any change. So high and mighty coffee man behind Abby decided to glare at me. Like it's my fault that my little sister is poor. So finally, another server opened up her line so Mr. Douche could go get his donut. Yes, he was waiting in line so impatiently for a donut. So of course, after he leaves, I open my fat mouth and go, "What a doucher! That guy NEEDED his donut, right damn now, or he was going to spontaneously combust and explode his uptight guts all over my cappuccino!"

Then, a couple hours later, we went up to Red Robin to drop off some money to our friend Kaylyn, another misfit like us, so she could buy tix for the upcoming HIM show in Pontiac on April 2. Kaylyn was on duty, hostessing at the restaurant, so we decided to make our visit short (Red Robin is always packed on Saturdays). We handed her our wad of cash, and she asked how much we each gave her. I told her that there was thirty-five each, and some other hostess girl that was behind Kaylyn was like, "Wait, there's thirty-five people coming in here?" And we were like, "Uh, no. Way to eavesdrop." 1) Listening in to other people's conversations when they don't involve you is stupid. 2) Especially if you're doing it wrong.

Also, no new updates on the Brighton Township murder last month. See, even the most exciting things in Livingston County quickly turn boring.

Sex, Lies, and Murder

Or just murder. On January 26 (Shelby's birthday, none-the-less), a Brighton Township woman was found dead in her home after a potential robbery. The home had been robbed twice previously, leading us Freaks of Suburbia to wonder: What the hell was this old lady hiding?

Regardless, police have few leads but have confirmed the cause of death to be gunshot wounds (though they refuse to say how many wounds and where they were located on the woman's body). The investigation, which is being conducted by the Michigan State Police is ongoing, and I suppose that we will update on it, since this is the most exciting thing that has happened in the county lately.

You can hear the 911 recording from the victim's daughter here.