Fifty Shades of Tool Shop

And afternoon surrounded by hot, sweaty tools and adhesives.  (If you've been following my Instagram feed today (I am @hmerr), you know what I am talking about. If you haven't been following my Instagram feed, you clearly are missing out on lots of important mundane images.If you don't know what Instagram is, here's a definition: Instagram is autotune for photos.If you don't know what Autotune is, here's a definition: Autotune is MSG for food.If you don't know what MSG is, here's a definition: MSG is.....is.......Come on guys, either you are too old to know what Instagram and autotune are or you are too young to know what MSG is. Unless, you are in my generation, then you know EVERYTHING.)

It all started so innocently, just cleaning and sorting....until I started getting all hot and bothered....






You know what I mean, I found..,.that's right, male hose ends.






Oooooh, still in the package...just waiting for that special someone to pop that blister pack.








For all the uses I can think of for hose ends like those, that makes me think I might need some....

Heavy Duty Multi-Purpose Lithium Grease from LubriMatic the Lubrication Specialists.













Oh yeah. Don't worry for all this work on our hardware I brought a whole box of.....

Magnum 44 Permanent Marker for any BIG marking job, if you know what I mean.









And don't worry, I'm know it's not the size that counts. Because even small things can be hard with.......

Midget Enamel. So small, yet so enamel.








And even if I am alone, I can always crack open the jar of.....

Plastic wood. With Anti-Shrink Formula.

Oooh it's so hot, it's extremely flammable.

And dangerous.






If the tool shed is rocking, it just me and the drill press....spread out on the table saw.

The Fat Poem

I am probably going to alienate you but I wrote a poem about seeing people again after a long time.

It's about weight gain.

Here it is:



Fat.
By Heather Meyer

Sometimes when you haven’t seen someone

They get really fat.

And it is hard to know if it is really them

Because it has been so long

Or because they are really fat

I wonder if I have gotten really fat

And people don’t recognize me

Or they don’t remember me

In the first place



The end.

Swimwear as Underwear

Right now I am wearing a swimsuit bottom as underwear.

The good news is if I happen upon a topless beach here in Minneapolis this December 4^th, I would be so ready.

Before I made this choice this morning, I had this conversation with my the bottom half of my swimsuit.

What follows is a dramatization of almost real events

SWIMSUIT: Thanks for the chance, Heather. You won’t regret it. I’ll be the best underwear you’ve ever worn.

ME: Don’t get your hopes up, Swimsuit. It’s just for today because I ran out of my first and second string underwear. I am not yet ready to put the thongs in the game, so you are up.

THONG UNDERWEAR: Ah, come on!

SWIMSUIT: Yup, I totally understand. Glad I could fill in in a pinch. Not that you will feel a pinch or anything, I will be comfortable and easy as a pair of boxers. But not loose like boxers! I am not going to hang all loose and bunch up under your pants.

ME: Well, you do have these decorative ties on the side, that might be annoying.

SWIMSUIT: No, they won’t. I will make sure that you don’t even know that they are there.

ME: But I do know that they are there.

SWIMSUIT: I mean, you won’t even notice them. They will be so stealth and invisible.

ME: There are decorative ties of spandex. They are not invisible. They are in a knot.

SWIMSUIT: I think not....see what I did there?

ME: Yes, I noticed your wordplay, Swimsuit.

SWIMSUIT: Thank you.

ME: It wasn’t a compliment.

SWIMSUIT: I’ll take it! Anywho, in regards to my decorative side knots, I think you will end up seeing them as asset, you know? A little extra fabric on the sides to…..do things.

ME: I don’t follow you.

SWIMSUIT: You know, for…..something.

ME: See you don’t even see how that would be helpful.

SWIMSUIT: I am so sorry, I am out of practice. I should have be preparing for this day every since you bought me on the Target clearance rack.

ME: Swimsuit, it’s ok. I don’t expect you to be amazing at this. After all, you are a swimsuit.

SWIMSUIT: But I could be so much more!

ME: Are you sure you are up for this? I don’t want to stress you out. I will be wearing you all day. And you don’t get to go to the ocean or a pool.

SWIMSUIT: I know, I know. But if you did feel the need to jump in a lake, I am there for you.

ME: Swimsuit, it is December, I am not jumping in a lake.

SWIMSUIT: It is Minnesota, there are 10,000 lakes.

ME: Not going in a lake!

SWIMSUIT: What about a pond?

ME: No! Swimsuit, today you are underwear. You’re job consists of being the barrier between my ass and my pants all day long. That is it. That is all you have to do.

SWIMSUIT: Will there be a fashion show?

ME: No!

SWIMSUIT: Are you sure? Because sometimes the other underwear say that they do fashion shows and celebrity interviews.

ME: That never happens.

SWIMSUIT: What about the Victoria Secret Fashion show?

 ME: What underwear says that?

SWIMSUIT: I don’t want to get them in trouble.

ME: Do you want to be worn today?

SWIMSUIT: Yes.

ME: Then tell me, what underwear is telling you these things?

SWIMSUIT: Well, there’s the black ones that you’ve had for a long time

ME: Liars. That pair is old and angry. You’ve seen the tear in their seams, they aren’t in their right mind. What other pairs tell you these things?

SWIMSUIT: Well, the ones that always have the best stories are……are….I can’t say it.

ME: Which ones, Swimsuit, which ones?

SWIMSUIT: The beige ones.

ME: The beige underwear that I got for free from a mail promo coupon? Really? The beige ones? Do you know that I only wear the beige ones when there are no other underwear to where. The beige ones are only one step up from you!

SWIMSUIT: And I am still one step up from the thongs, right?

THONG UNDERWEAR: Hey! We can hear you!

ME: Swimsuit, you’ve got to get a hold of yourself. None of the underwear can do what you do. Sure, I don’t go to the ocean or pools very often.

SWIMSUIT: That one time I got to go to the hula-hoop show.

ME: That’s right. We did do that. Now do you think any of the underwear could have been worn to that show.

SWIMSUIT: No, because it was a Luau theme.

ME: Yes and wearing underwear in public is weird.

SWIMSUIT: But you are weird.

ME: Not that kind of weird. Swimsuit, there are things only you can do, that underwear cannot. Does underwear get to jump in a lake?

SWIMSUIT: We’re going in a lake!

ME: No, not today. That was just an example.

SWIMSUIT: Examples are lies?

ME: No, I was just illustrating my point.

SWIMSUIT: I don’t want to be lied to.

ME: Swimsuit! Do you want to be my underwear today?

SWIMSUIT: Yes!

ME: Ok, let’s do this.

SWIMSUIT: I can’t wait to get in the lake.

THONG UNDERWEAR: Do we get to play tomorrow?

ME: Shut up, thongs.

Swimsuit and I exit.

THONG UNDERWEAR: Just you wait, you'll regret everything...right up your ass.

I poke my head back in.

ME: I heard that thongs. This is why nobody likes you.

THONG UNDERWEAR: Ah, jeez!

The End

Death Cane.

Most of this morning has been about eating a candy cane. I didn’t eat breakfast. (Right now, your brain just reacted to that statement by saying “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” I know it happened, it’s ok, it’s instinct.)

But I did have breakfast. Sort of. I mixed vitamin powder with water and almond milk. And I drank that. (Did you brain react by saying “Vitamins are just expensive pee.”? This is not instinct, nor do I think that. And even if I did, I would then bottle my urine and sell it, since it is so expensive.) 

So having this water smoothie meant I was still hungry. Last night, I took home a candy cane from a holiday party (instead of a co-worker), which I thought would just languish on my kitchen counter until March when I threw it away. However, this morning Practical Self said “Ah! A candy cane you can eat that all morning to stave off hungry pains until lunch. Just like you used to do in high school.” (I would have to eat hard candies in 4^th period English to calm my stomach grumblies because lunch was so late and my stomach was so LOUD.) Also, in my hobby of alternative therapies, I think I learned once that peppermint essential oil helps suppress appetite. Or I read that on a yahoo news article. So with that the candy cane was the solution to all my problems.

This is not the point of this essay. The point is: I haven’t eaten a cane candy in a very long time. 

The novelty of an entire cane of peppermint sugar wore off for me in about 3^rd grade. Though I 
am still a fan of them for decorative and comedic effect. (Hilarious cigars! Tiny Skies! Get that guy off stage!). I think candy canes are big commitment candy and I prefer variety and quantity. From a ‘bang for your buck’ standpoint, candy canes are a great deal. For around $3 (or a ten, I don’t know how much they cost anymore) you can get 12 canes of dense candy that takes at least 15 minutes to consume. That is a lot of mouth confection time, considering I can eat a whole bag of mini Reese’s in ten minutes (including unwrapping time). In this case, candy canes are even a healthier option too, since candy canes contain pretty much only sugar and no trans fats, take that tiny Reese’s. Plus, if your sweet tooth isn’t exhausted after sucking a whole cane down then I am pretty convinced that you are an elf. Elves only eat candy, right? I’ve seen that Will Ferrell movie.

This morning’s adventure in seasonal candy has been dangerous. Candy canes are sharp. I didn’t even do the sucking on one end thing until it is a pointy death tip, like we all did in school. Do they even still allow candy canes in school? It’s the easiest and most delicious way to make a shiv for cutting your classmates.

Also crazy dangerous (craz-ngerous? Yes.) is the act of sucking on a candy cane. You could fall and be throat stabbed by your own holiday treat. Or someone could push it through your soft palate. Or it could be strapped to a rocket and shot through the atmosphere to an unsuspecting undiscovered planet.

To avoid all danger with my cane, I ate it like an adult, breaking off small mouth sized pieces. This breaking of the cane resulted in showers of candy shards all over my desk. I imagined the night creatures finding this sugar shrapnel and licking the top of my desk and then I would come in tomorrow and my desk would be all sticky from night creature saliva.

I still continued to break mouth sized pieces off. Man, even the small cylinders of candy cane are deadly. Rolling around in my mouth, I thought I would choke at any minute if I hit the breaks of my car or a co-worker surprised me at my desk. Plus there are still sharp edges on the piece that scratch up the insides of your mouth as you suck on it. That is, if you were able to break of a piece that actually fit in your mouth. Candy canes do not break where you want them to. Whoever engineers candy canes, needs to also design bridges.  

So I have been trying to encase too large pieces of cane in my mouth, avoid being choked, trying not to think about the cavities that are being conceived in my molars, using all my muscle strength to break the cane, removing the night creature cane bit bait, crawling everywhere to not fall down to not be stabbed just because of this candy cane.

I am exhausted. Looks like I’ll need a little sugar pick me up.

Historical Donuts: Fast Forward

Part 4 in the Historical Donuts essays fasts forward to yesterday when I was at the SuperAmerica putting super gas in my mediocre car.

I usually don't go into convenience stores, I am a 'pay at the pump' type of girl, but yesterday my car was coasting on fumes (seriously, the "Get Gas, dummy!" light was on for three days.). I stopped before rehearsal to feed my wheels. Then taking stock of my few minutes before rehearsal and my recent reflections on my lifetime told through donuts, I knew I needed a donut. At 10:30 on a Saturday morning, the only doughnuts left were the survivors of the undead morning coffee rush, which I though would be less dramatic on a weekend but that kind of outdated thinking never got anyone their pick of the donuts. So of course my beloved Bavarian Cream was sold out. Looking at the empty trays and the sole representatives crusting away on each one, I noticed there was one tray that still had number of pastries still on it.

It was the Glazed Egg Nog Filled Bismarck. Let me say that again. Glazed Egg Nog Filled Bismarck. SuperAmerica, you surprise me! This is a fancy donut. Not to say potentially super gross, but fancy!

And seasonal! Tis the season! Am I right, SA or am I right?

Now, I have never tasted Egg Nog, only out of chance not by choice. I am not opposed to nog, and with the seasonal nature of the beverage even if I was a non-nog lover, I would forget by the time the next nog season came around.

This fact, coupled with my rule of always getting the weirdest thing on the menu, meant I had to have this donut.

And 89 cents later, it was mine.

I was surprised to find it still warm, possible the containment device in the gas station had warming units it them. Perhaps, not. Not all mysteries are mine to solve.

I ate it sitting in my car. 

The truth: The Egg Nog donut tasted like a regular pudding filled donut, maybe a hint of something special. (It could be the special sauce from the man I watched taking donuts out of the case with his bare hands, then PUTTING THEM BACK IN! Bare hands are not for putting things back! Use the wax paper! That's what the wax trees died for!)

Special Annoucenment! (Because I am too lazy to write a real post today)

A break from the doughnut essays!

But do not fear, there are more life moments about donuts to come. Wait, until you hear about the donut I ate today (I ate it especially for you!).

My special announcement is I completed NABLOPOMO for November 2012. I wrote every day on my blog that I sometimes ignore for months on end to end. Woo! Give me a prize! Oh, wait? The prize was the doughnut you ate this morning? Well, that was a pretty good prize.

I have decided to continue blog posting everyday until the end of 2012! (I will post in 2013 as well, but I am not making the everyday claim for that...at least not yet.)! Yay! My apologize for the noise of a thousand vocal cords snapping due to the cheers of joy at this announcement.

For you, devoted reader, I will privide this self promotion:

BNW Holiday Mixtape 2012 opens this Friday! The show runs Dec 7- Dec 22! Six shows only! Check it out! Buy your tickets now to avoid the disappointment of driving to the theatre, parking, locking your car, double checking that you locked your car, walking to the theatre, waiting in line, fantasizing about that beer you want to buy from a cute bartender, approaching the box office and then finding out that the show is sold out! Lame! Now you are embarrassed and your date thinks that you are a liar and unreliable. So plan ahead, lame-o.

Historical Donuts Part III: Jr High

Jr. High and unassigned lunchroom seating. I never could have expected the impact this would make on not only who I would become but on who I wouldn't stay. (Profound! Give me a medal!)

The first day of Jr. High is traumatic for everyone. At least, for everyone who is me. I was late to a class (Mr. Gideon the clock in your room was five minutes slow.) And immediately, upon arriving to that class was made the butt of the joke by the teacher. The teacher. Wow! Today, that would be bullying. Especially, since the 29 other kids in the class were desperate trying to home on to some sort of driftwood on the Titanic of Day 1: Jr. High, and Captain History Teacher knew this ocean, he was king of it.

But this is not about the first day of Jr. High. It's about doughnuts. 

Because the lunchroom seating was a free-for-all for the 7th grade students to figure out their own places and with whom to sit. I quickly found myself not as part of the massive cool-girl table that was made up of my former classmates from 6th grade. It wasn't obvious shunning but they didn't care if I was there, and they weren't keen on my new friends that I invited to sit with us. So my new friends and I bailed from that table and formed our own group of four, we ate lunch together every day. 
Looking on that now, it is awesome to have lunch with the same group that you love every day. (Working at the retail store I got the same thing when I was in the design department, the same yahoos everyday.) Part of that group was my new best friend, Jessica. Every day for lunch, she would get the cinnamon sugar mini cake mini donuts for sale in the Snack Bar of the cafeteria. I was never one to even think of those donuts. I usually stuck to foods that were cooler than the 'hot lunch meal of the day' but that also didn't cost a million dollars (sorry, big slice of pizza). Which meant I ate a lot of cold sandwiches from the Snack Bar the beginning of that year. When I discovered the mini-donuts, it was fun; cinnamon sugar on a donut! Never heard of that. And soon the mini0donuts were making a regular appearance on my lunch tray, along with my boring cold sandwiches. We would eat those mini donuts every day. It became a joke, and lunch was never complete with out them

Seventh and eighth grade is marked by my constant eating of those cinnamon mini-donuts. I learned later that sometimes my friends would steal a mini-donut from my tray when I wasn't looking. Even now, far removed from 19--, my friends and I still laugh about the mini-donuts. Because, yes that group of four stayed friends all these years, on the tennis team, through different colleges, different cities and what has become very different lives. We were in each other weddings (well, they haven't been in mine because I am not married but it is assumed [so I guess I will cross that bridge when/if I get to it {I don't know what I think about marriage, let alone bridesmaids}]).

Had I stayed with the group I though I 'belonged' too, the former 6th grade classmates that became the cool girls, I don't think I would have eaten mini-donuts every day.  I don't think I would have even discovered them. I probably would have been very lonely, sitting on the edge of that massive table of budding queens and divas jostling for a place. I am not a very good jostle-er, or jouster, but that is a very different thing.  But this isn't about cinnamon sugar mini donuts, it's about realizing there are other worlds out there, even if you don't know what they are. 

 The is essay is part of a multi-part doughnut essay.