Author: Kerrie Cornell

I’m walking down the sidewalk inside my apartment complex and I come across a small plastic dinosaur toy on the ground in the dirt. I look around to see if there are any children playing nearby that may have dropped it but no one is around. I brush him off and put him on the bush next to me because a.) maybe someone would come back looking for him and b.) he needed a nice cozy place to sit for the time being.

Every day I walked by the bush and he was still there. A week goes by and I decide to adopt the little guy and name him Ted. I pushed Ted inside the bush a little more to make him more comfortable in his bushy home, he blended in with the leaves quite nicely. I wouldn’t want any passerby to see him and think twice about kidnapping him, he is mine now, they had their chance.

Ted was a wonderful pet. Every day he would be there to say goodbye to me as I walked passed him to my car for work, and every day he was there to greet me when I came home.  I know, I’m pathetic…..but if you know me I get easily attached and give random names to animals, plants, objects because they all deserve some sort of identity. So, anyways, Ted was happy in his little leafy home, and I was happy to have something to smile at every day, as strange as it was.

One evening, I came home and looked over in his direction to wave hello and noticed the bush had been trimmed and Ted was not where I had left him. I know it’s just a plastic toy but he was my little buddy and I’ll admit I kind of freaked out.

“TED!? Where are you hiding?!?! This is NOT funny, TED!” I frantically looked all over the ground and in between the leaves but there was no sign of him. A woman walked by me and I had to pull my head out of the bush and pretend I was tying my shoe or else she may have called the cops on me. It probably didn’t help that my shoes did not have laces…..heh. I grabbed my purse off the ground and walked back to the apartment, texting Brian about how devastated I was that someone took my friggin’ bushasuarus. He assured me that the gardener probably just moved him and he would help me look for it later. He is awesome and understands my weirdness.

Brian was right, the gardener had left him up on the wall, where I’m sure Ted was scared out of his damned mind because that was really high up for a little dino like him. I grab him and pet his little head and put him back inside his bush.  “DON’T EVER DO THAT AGAIN!”

Except it did happen again, every month for almost a year. I laugh to myself because I love thinking about the gardener, probably confused and wondering what kind of asshole keeps putting this dinosaur back in the bush every time he cut it. I began to notice that with every monthly trim, he placed Ted further and further away from the bush.

There was a span of about two weeks after the bushes were trimmed, where I couldn’t find poor Ted, and I assumed the worst. Maybe the gardener had finally had enough of my shit and took Ted home to toss into his garbage disposal or hand over to his slobbery dog. But of course, I found Ted up on a different wall about 30 feet away from his little home. The furthest he had ever been.

It was then that I decided, after 8 months of living in his bush and playing hide-and-go-seek with a frustrated gardener, I would bring him inside my home. He now sits in a small plant atop my bathroom counter. It’s kind of a downgrade from his homey shrubbery, but at least he has a mirror to keep him company. I hope he’s happy.

Fun fact: Ted is not the only creature inhabiting my house/work plants. I have quite the collection, and they all have names. I may have a problem.

Here’s a few…..

So, I was coming back from lunch and got into the elevator with a lady. I went to press my floor but the bag I was holding in my hand accidentally hit the “Call Fire Department” button. I panicked and pressed all the buttons trying to cancel the really loud ringing while this woman just stood there and judged me. I finally found the cancel button and pressed it multiple times and it wouldn’t work, the call went to voicemail where the voice on the other line repeated over and over the correct phone number to call for emergencies. Great. The doors suddenly opened to my floor and I rushed out yelling back “sorry!” as I heard the loud voice over the speakers continue to talk.

I feel like this crap only happens to me.

This is an old story but even though at the time it was fucking horrible and beyond traumatizing it’s become a family favorite to tell around the Thanksgiving dinner table.

I was living at my mom’s house at the time and it was a regular weekday morning. Woke up, got ready for work, and went out the front door. As I’m walking with my keys in hand I notice an odd shape in the grass under the tree, a small object barely peaking up from the ground. On my slow walk towards it to investigate, my brain went through the different possibilities of what it could possibly be…. “Maybe it’s a rock, or just a fallen leaf, maybe a pile of dog shit….that strangely resembles orange cat ears? well that’s kind of weird but….OH MY GAHD, IT’S A FUCKING CAT FACE”

No joke, literally a FACE, that’s it, just the head of a cat sitting in the grass staring up at me with sad, motionless eyes. I walked around in circles with my flappy hands muttering all sorts of obscenities but mostly just angrily pointing at it and saying to myself, “THAT, is a fucking FACE……a cat FACE, in my yard!”. I looked at the time and thought “I don’t have time for THIS”, and also “WHO FUCKING PUT THIS HERE??”. As I search around for whatever god awful person or thing would leave this poor cat head in my yard I begin to panic. “Do I call my work and tell them I will be late due to feline decapitation? How do I get this thing out of my yard??? I can’t just leave it here it will give my mom a heart attack.”

I run next door to my neighbor’s house in hope that he may be home, and he could help me clean up Tom’s head from my yard. (I felt like he needed a name, since he really didn’t have much else). No one answered the door. I walked back to where Tom’s head was and stared down at him yelling that he’s making me late for work and should be ashamed for getting himself in this position. I went around the back of the house and got a shovel and stood in front of Tom really not looking forward to what I had to do….

I first poked it with the shovel, because… you know, he could be sleeping?No movement. I placed the shovel below Tom’s whiskers turned my face and shoved it hard. I looked back and realized I just rolled his head over and could now see Tom’s insides. Not cool, Tom. I did this another five times rolling his head further and further down the yard until I finally got him on the shovel. My morbid curiosity lifted it up to eye level so I could inspect it further. Then I realized I should probably hurry up and get rid of it because someone could be watching and this probably looks pretty fucking strange. So, I said a little prayer for poor Tom and shed a tear as I dumped his head into the trashcan, where it landed next to the pile of recently picked up dog poop.

I hope Tom’s life was better than his death.

So, I was invited to go with my friend Kayla and her mom to a PostSecret Event. We get there and I immediately panic as soon as I see her mom sitting in the front row with her friend waiting for us. I don’t do well at shows/events with so many people around and I can have small panic attacks at times, especially if I’m ever placed kind of close to the stage in fear that someone on stage will point me out or look at me too much or spit in my general direction….or anything dumb that normal people wouldn’t care about. But, oh joy, front row, at least it was to the side a bit and I had 6 empty chairs to the left of me….so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Told myself to shut up, be happy for the free tickets, and try to ignore the anxiety monster whispering sour nothings into my ear.

Right as the show is about to start some young college student literally runs in and sits right next to me, reeking of beer and hemp bracelets. Why she didn’t sit in the 5 other empty seats to her left is beyond me. I know it’s dumb but her presence made me quite uncomfortable. She had a blanket around her shoulders that kept touching me which was obviously breaking through my personal bubble and I had to lean on Kayla to get away from it.

An hour in and after my nails have all been bitten off,they turn to the audience to talk, and the first question was to ask why they read PostSecret. The hippie next to me shouts out something that causes the event crew to run over with a microphone to have her talk. Meanwhile I’m hyperventilating and giving Kayla internal bruising from leaning so hard against her to be as far away from a microphone as possible. The hippie goes on telling everyone her “secret” to the speaker and audience, “I normally read PostSecret alone, I always have, it’s become something I do for myself every Sunday for the last 6 years. I began going to these events as well alone and even told my boyfriend and friend I didn’t want them to come, but now I regret it and feel so lonely and wish I had someone here with me”. It may have been my imagination but I felt the entire crowd staring daggers at me like “Give this woman a hug! You’re the only one next to her! She needs support you fool!”. She even gave me this kind of puppy dog look, reaching out for some sort of friend… but I just continued to stare at the gum stuck on the floor and imagine I was somewhere else. She sat next to the wrong antisocial person, and I feel horrible for not being more friendly, but it’s her own damn fault for coming alone.

Side note, if the lady ever happens to come across my blog, I’m sorry dude. I’m sure you’re a nice person and all, but you need to keep your gahd damn blanket to yourself.