Snap, Crackle, Rock, and Roll

Runner Up

For me, in first grade there were hierarchies of best friends. I had Margaux, my true (and neighborhood) best friend and I had Jamie, my classroom best friend. Jamie once punched me in my gut during recess in front of the whole grade, just for funnies. That is how I can safely make the distinction. 
Jamie came to play at my house one afternoon. We were outside and playing at the bottom of the driveway. I remember distinctly how different ends of the driveway mattered for playing. You could potentially have more fun at the bottom of the driveway, at least the kind of fun Jamie and I were having. 
I was experiencing that first moment when you find pleasure in poking fun at other people. Jamie and I were taking turns making jokes about kids in our class. This is when I first discovered how easy it is to be funny at other people's expense; a crutch I have used but am proud to say doesn't define my humor. 
This could also serve as insight into why Jamie wasn't my true best friend. 

Backing up a moment—at the bottom of the driveway lived a Dogwood tree. In the fall it produced tiny berries. Jamie dared me to eat a few of them. It was also at this time I learned that if you do things people dare you to do, they are likely to be impressed with you. Or so I thought. It turns out what they are noticing is that you can easily be coerced into doing dumb things. This truth didn't materialize until recently. In other words, I have a long history of putting things in my mouth on a dare (keep this clean readers) and perhaps it led me to this very moment, and this aptly titled blog you and I share. 

And now, the moment I laughed the hardest:
Jamie and I, bottom of the driveway, basically making fun of our peers <bad><don't do this>, laughing hysterically (and yes, mostly because I am hysterical). 

Barf

I threw up

All over the bottom of the driveway

Jamie ran inside to get my Mom, convinced that I had been poisoned by the Dogwood berries I had eaten (for popularity).  I had not. I had just laughed so god damn hard that I threw up.

 It was pretty awesome actually.

Winner

This video should say it all. I hope it pleases you, I really do. But I guess if it doesn't, I could always record me eating this stale....

Are you kidding? NO, watch the video. 

It's Friday. Where do I send thanks to?

I am super grateful to those of you who voted. The hard numbers make truthful this statement; 3 out of 5 co-bloggers want to put it in my mouth on a Friday. I am here to make that dream come true.

pay day

With voting occurring on Friday, I will be postponing the following week's post until Saturday [in a strained attempt of maintaining the integrity of the voting thread]. 

This is our first "Saturday post".  Curiously it is written about Friday. 

Having worked nearly two decades in a field that mandates weekend work, I never embraced the T.G.I.F spirit that so many 9-5'ers do.  You might even say I was antithetical.  I did, however, completely abide by the idea that no matter where you worked, weekends started on Friday.  My Friday was Tuesday for many consecutive years and, come that day, I would proudly announce, "today is my Friday".

Having to assimilate my week with other working civilians wasn't difficult, but there exists a certain level of alienation that takes host in your body. Mine serves as a reminder to be grateful for all opportunities to see the world from outside the offered perspective. 

No matter when your Friday is, can we agree on the small amount of magic we endow it with, and everything it preludes? 
A little respite from our slave lives, an opportunity to slow down and be with family, an excuse to party, take a jaunt, a cessation of work, leisure time! 

This past Friday, [yesterday] September 20th, was my older sister Tara's birthday.  One thing we loved more than anything, growing up, was The Cure.  She, specifically, had an intimidating wealth of posters, B-sides, and T-shirts.  She knew more about Robert Smith than I've known about most of my boyfriends.  Her fandom rivaled all that I have ever seen.  

This video is for Friday, this video is for Tara, this video is for you. 

They can all just kiss off into the ... jumbotron

Wow — 4 time winner!

You guys have been my writing partner for fourteen weeks now; I think that's very special. Thank you guys, <whispering> I love you! 

It also took fourteen weeks to completely stump me, that's right. 

I'm stumped. Kiss Cam. Wow. What can I say about kiss cam? 

Certainly it's an awkward experience, and this should resonate with me.

I enjoy kissing and feeling embarrassed by attention —why not achieve both at the same time? 

What a great suggestion, but how do I approach it? I've never been the subject of a kiss cam. Am I letting you guys down? 

You know, today may be Friday the 13th — but I had the strangest day yesterday. I'm not kidding. See for yourself. 

Chewblacca: Puppies & Panties

Week Twelve Winner:

Holly, what a bad ass. She won by a landslide. 

And it is no surprise.

What an innocuous YET insidious subject ...

Good job Holly, that's what people like.

Here is your win (and because you are a bad ass—I made you a video too).

I have been a lover of panties almost as long as I have been a lover of dogs.

My affection for dogs was immediate ... my affliction with panties began around the age of fifteen when I got my first job (@Dunkin Donuts). 

As a wage earner, I could now afford luxury items. It didn't take long to find out that spending that cash on under things sent me over the moon.

Garter belts, thigh highs, brassieres, negligees, corsets ... I couldn't stop. 

But my main obsession—panties!

Panties pleased me. So be it.

I am a certified Victoria's Secret Angel. <----I made this up, but what it means is that I have spent a small fortune on V.S. panties—and I'm far from retired.

Unfortunately having a wealth of panties doesn't inherent a wealth of good sense and sometimes you do foolish things like leave your pantie$ on the floor. Oh, and I forgot to mention you have a puppy.

You may not have good sense, but your puppy definitely thinks you have good scents.

The proof is in the now crotchless style panties you never anticipated owning. Boys, puppies like your manties too. 

The bad news is—there is little that can be done about this habit. 

The good news is—they grow out of it.

I won't go on about the psychology behind it, because I am not qualified to do so ... but I heard you guys like videos. 

Children Of The Corona Borealis

Congratulations Jeremy! 

What a mind blowing, vaginal numbing suggestion. 

Gross, I wish I hadn't said that. Too bad, I did.

When I think of space babies, and I sometimes do, I usually think along these lines: 

Jeremy's suggestion forced me to do some critical thinking about the topic, i.e. "googling". 

After a long afternoon of laying in bed watching the butt end of S1 Orange Is The New Black* I learned this; 

Jeremy will be devastated when I report to him that giving birth in space may not be a viable option. 

Childbirth is something I know very little about.  I saw a video of the aforementioned event early on in grade school and swore to never let that happen to me.  Instead I would adopt a baby boy, work shifts at McDonalds and dance ballet.  Laugh all you want, those were my goals when I was 6 (I have since met none of them).  I did make good on the "never let that happen to me" vow but only by way of an endocrine disease.   

 plie segue?

What I am saying is—childbirth in space? 

Unlikely. 

Even if two very patient people found a way to 

find 'the G' in zero G 

and their "John Travolta" successfully made it to someone's "Kirstie Allie". . .

I maintain that no women would be trusting enough to let someone perform an episiotomy while hurtling through space at an alarming rate. 

There are scientific implications that babies born in space may develop as fatheaded, off balance, weak, fragile, disproportionate (as we understand it to be), atrophied babies. 

That sounds like a lot of time in the NICU and the coffee is terrible there, boo to that.  

Enough nonsense.  It is still my self-prescribed job to satisfy Jeremy's curiosity. 

Launching: 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, you're supposed to click the video now. . .             

*Spoiler: Tan is the new Black

❮html❯ ❮body❯ ❮p❯do you like me? ❮ul❯ ❮li❯yes❮/li❯ ❮li❯no❮/li❯ ❮li❯maybe❮/li❯ ❮/ul❯ ❮/p❯ ❮/body❯ ❮/html❯

Congratulations on Kat's second win! This makes 2 weeks in a row Put It In My Mouth has experienced 2x wins. And what incredible suggestions this week. I can't wait for the next Stiff Competition Edition. 

It is my position that the desire to communicate with others, particularly friends, was never stronger for many of us than it was in grade school.  Perhaps that is because I believe those exchanges with our friends played such an integral role in defining who we were.  And perhaps that is because I believe that defining who we were as teenagers was one of the most vital and daunting of tasks for an adolescent. 
Some of us had jobs, hobbies, or passions at an early age that helped distinguish our character—but most of us just had friends.
And those friends meant everything.  

I remember [not clearly] countless days in which my sole motivation for going to school was to see and talk to friends.  You did not need to have a lot of friends, just the ones worth talking to, listening to, and sharing everything with.  I was lucky enough to have those friends.  

If you completed your grade school career before the mass diffusion of PDA's, pagers, mobile phones, laptops, and tablets then you remember how limited that vital communication with your peers could be. 
Beyond the brief respite between classes, the sometimes desolate lunch period, or the oscillating car or bus ride—face time with friends was also limited [this is long before FaceTime®—that was shit only the Jetsons were doing].

So you pass notes! Tons and tons of fµ©$ing notes! 

Sometimes whole notebooks full of notes. You develop up an uncanny ability to fold paper into tiny shapes that no human has ever thought of [without seeing one single origami video on YouTube®, because wtf is a YouTube?]. 
The notes would get intercepted by teachers or worse. . . the boy/girl you liked. . . even though there were specific instructions written on the front in seven different shades of pastel pen,
"For Robin's Eyes ONLY"!!!!!!!!!
What, are they stupid? 

If you are like me—you consequently find yourself with boxes of these "mementos of teenage angst", as Kat fairly describes them.  If you are like my little [awesome] sister then you consequently find yourself deciding it is time to get rid of these mementos, but not before skimming them all for reminders of how completely stupid teenagers are [as she fairly describes it]. 

As a result of this behavior it would be fair to say that myself and others romanticize this note-passing period in our timeline of communication, that we are nostalgic for this tactile form of expression. 
. . .the idea that the thoughts that are in our head can literally be put into the hands of another person. . .  
Well of course thats romantic, and us romantics still participate in this behavior. . . but come on. . . we finally get to be the Jetsons!* 

I admit that adopting this sentiment about living in the digital age while holding on to my analog past happened forcibly and just a couple of years ago.  I was making a film for class and my shot list designated that Madison was to despondently flip through a photo album. This made no sense to someone (a younger peer) and it was only then that I realized. . . nobody [young] keeps photo albums and they especially don't understand the (albeit emo) habit of digging them out and obsessively pouring over them. 
So I rewrote the scene to have Madison clicking through her facebook photos and even as a romantic it was hard to capture her despondence without tangible evidence like a photo album. 

See for yourself. [shameless effort to make you watch my shameful student film]

The teenage angst that Kat wrote of in her winning suggestion, well I am sure it still exists.  But [as a romantic**] I wish to believe it has lessened.  Teenage angst is often related to the frustration of not clearly recognizing your personal identity.  Many of us suffer this for a long time and we are always susceptible to encountering such a feeling again.  
In the digital age teenagers today can construct their identity in a collage of pictures, emoticons, and snarky status updates. They can express who they are by listing the bands, movies, books, and television programs they like.  They can be cool by association by disclosing who they are with and where they are at. They can endow themselves with just about anything they want. 
Teenagers can fully contrive an identity and more significantly
they can edit it when necessary.

Am I saying that social media is the answer to teenage angst? 
No.
Certainly not [although there is nothing angsty about 5 dozen selfies].
But as powerful [and potentially harmful] that these digital tools are, perhaps they can wield some good. Suppose wrestling with your identity crisis by way of an accessible CMS could give these youths some amount of ease, if only temporary. 
Teenagers today can hoard their angsty emotions in an online archive for anyone to see, or to pour over later if they so decide. 
But if we are lucky most of them will opt into the "never have to relive this moment again" electronic communication facilitated by snapchat.
Because I'll be real, unless today's teenagers can pull off some classy John Hughes shit, I don't want to stumble upon their angsty mementos while searching for online porn. ***

In case you were wondering, my teenage angst looked a lot like this:

talk hard

Well, perhaps I just imagined it that way. 

I believe it probably looked a lot more like this: 

exactly like this



Thank you to my beautiful friend Alissa for taking the time out of her busy back to school schedule to confirm Kat's suspicion that teenagers no longer pass notes.
RIP 
Notes
then-now

* We only passed notes because we didn't have electronic devices.  
** Let's be honest. I'm very much a cynic too. 
*** I don't really feel that way. That's a little dramatic. Probably just some residual teen angst. 

It's About Time

It's time! 

Time to congratulate Matt on another Put It In My Mouth victory.

I was really excited about Danielle's "Middle Child Syndrome" suggestion 

and lucky for everyone

I will be discussing time travelers through the lens of 

a middle child.

See. That's me. In the MIDDLE!

Are you guys ready to explore time travel with me? 

I didn't hear you!

Twat? I beg your hard-on. <-----dirty joke

Alright! Let's go!

Winner: Stiff Competition Edition!

I give you the winning blog topic for the first (and probably last) Stiff Competition Edition. 

Thank you to our two very special voters!


This very sexy topic was suggested by Kyle the second week of voting!
Awesome!




You may think, "How would someone go about writing a masterful blog regarding men's knees"?
And you would not be alone.
I thought the same thing.
I was up for the challenge. . .

. . . then. . .

I decided to make a video.
This is, after all, a special runner's up edition.

Many thanks to my many muses! 

Until I can fix the typo in this video (*slapping), please forgive my error. Thank you.

Week Four: And The Winner Is!

I am so excited! 

My beautiful friend Melissa has won 

this week's Put It In My Mouth! 

But it was another close one. . . 

To honor all of these fantastic runners up, next week I will host

 a special 

Put It In My Mouth

Stiff Competition Edition 

I will repost everyone's suggestion from the last four weeks for a private

 blog only voting. 

More details on Tuesday. 

For now, watch this unbelievably uncool video I made for Melissa

(so she knows just how serious I take this)

Week Three: And The Winner Is!

Your participation and ideas have been overwhelmingly positive. I am enjoying this blog so much—and I hope you guys are getting a kick out of it too. 

We have a record breaking win this week: DINOSAURS! 7 votes. 

9 if you count the 2 votes for Alex seconding Dinosaurs.

I only hope my written contribution to the subject will be a fraction as epic as this win or dinosaurs themselves. But probably not. 

I'm in a cabin in the woods and there are more than a few bears included in the decor. . . but I'll tell you about that later . . .

Week Two: And The Winner Is!

The results are in. Countless seconds have been spent tallying the votes. It was a close one.  With just two more votes than "men's knees"—Helen wins with the very topical (and close to my heart) suggestion, "Peer pressure to watch particular television shows". 

I'm excited and you better be too! <-----poor example of peer pressure. 

These are fantastic suggestions...curiously one of them is missing.

Helen's winning suggestion will be posted by Tuesday the 18th when I will ask again for your suggestions. Thank you guys so much for the opportunity to play with you and for the continued support and inspiration. 

     Well, just this one...

Week One: And The Winner Is!

Poop there it is! No, I'm just kidding.
Although first in a three way tie, I will likely not be writing a blog dedicated to poop—however much fun that may be.

But—I certainly will somehow incorporate talk of bowel movements or fecal blowback throughout this blog's term.  You're welcome.

Okay, let's take a look at how this little endeavor went.

I am super grateful to the participants.  Thank you for having commentary, suggestions, a compelling need/want to vote, and/or even the five minutes or more it took to read this post and/or blog. 

Thank you, thank you so much. 

I am very happy to say that there is a three-way tie.  Having addressed number 2 at the number 1 paragraph—this leaves two very unique, thoughtful, and inspiring subjects.  I will honor the tie and write two different blogs.  Yes, that's right. 

I will post them both before next Tuesday, as outlined in my original mission blog (if that's a thing). 

The Winners Are: 

Michael) How about a nice comparison between your favorite indie films and types of men???

AND

Kat) Topic. Ex's lovers who are also your current close friends, is it unhealthy? Is there a place for the past without damaging your potential future or as we learned from HIMYM, you never invite an ex to your wedding.

I am very, very excited to write these two blogs. 

I've already begun writing . . . and will post for you soon.

In the intervening time I ask that we revise my initially conceived deadlines.  This week was a trial run and I noticed that very little to zero voting and suggesting happened after day 2. . .which I should have foreseen.  I think it best if the voting/suggesting receives a limit of 4 days and my writing receives a limit of 4 days.  We will shorten the retention by half on both of our parts.  Let's try it next week. . . see how it goes. 

And because two of you, Scott and Jennifer, showed an interest in videos. . . I offer you my mirthful video for the week. May it serve it's purpose and bring you amusement. 

Between You And Me

Friends, I would very much like (and appreciate) your help.

I am writing a new blog—inspired by all of you guys (ya’ll, depending).

I have so many unique, intelligent, and hilarious friends. I am continually inspired by you and I would like to do what you do to all good things—I would like to exploit that.

While writing from my own unique experiences is nearly unavoidable, I would like to write about topics that interest you more, that entertain you more, that engage you—because the ideas come from you. 

This would look something like this:

1. I post a request for topic ideas on facebook.
2. Within a week’s time, you provide suggestions for the blog topic.
3. During that week you are also encouraged to vote for your favorite suggestions, this can include your own suggestion.
4. At the end of the week, the suggestion with the most votes will be the topic I write about.
5. I will post the winner’s blog within the week and then ask for a new suggestion.

This idea requires me (us all) to take a leap of faith, 2 leaps actually:
1. That you, my friends, will be interested in joining me/humoring me on this journey.

2. That you, my friends, will be pleased with the results of this writing experiment.

In other words—I may fail. I may fail for you all to see.

But whose to say my failure won’t be the entertainment we are all looking for? 

And with failure comes growth—which is what I am seeking, after all. 

To demonstrate how comfortable I am failing for all of you to see, here is a short video of me doing just that. 

I initially aspired to host a video requesting your participation for this blog,
but well, 
you can see for yourself just how inadequate some of us are (me) in front of a camera.