Donald Trump and Library Porn

I have never been so nervous to go to the library as I was this week.

I’ll tell you what I was there to get, but you have to keep it a secret.  Promise?  Pinky swear? (Everyone knows you can’t break a pinky swear – you get seven years of bad luck or you grow warts or something.  It’s unpleasant.  Don’t mess with pinky swears).

Okay. *deep breath*  I was there to get…

Books by Donald Trump.

WAIT! HOLD ON! Don’t unfollow me and threaten to burn down my house or dismember my childhood teddy bears!  I want to read his books because, like it or not, he is going to be our next president.  I want to read these books for the same reason I wanted to read The Audacity of Hope when President Obama was elected.  If someone’s going to be running my country, I would like to hear what he has to say.  I feel like that’s responsible.  Plus, how can I complain intelligently if I don’t even understand someone’s views?

Okay.  There’s my defense.  NOW you can unfollow me, but you don’t know where I live and also I’ve hidden my teddy bears.  So ha.

If you’re still reading, I will tell you about my library excursion.

Our country is oddly hateful of people who support Trump at the moment. I certainly didn’t want to be on the receiving end of this venom simply for checking out a library book.  It doesn’t mean I like him, people!  I don’t like him at all!  It means that I want to be an informed citizen!

I reserved the books ahead of time, so when I went in I could basically grab and dash.  I went to the shelf where the holds are reserved, and I immediately saw my books with a big label on the side that said, “HILLBORO.”  I quickly looked left and right – had anyone I know seen this?  Was anyone watching now?  I was alone.  Grab the books and run!  EEEEEEEEEP!

I grabbed the books but put the titles facing toward me so that no other library patrons would mistakenly think I’m a Trump fan.  Then I saw that there was “About the Author” picture on the back of the book.  Eeek!  There’s no escaping his ridiculous hair!  Quick!  Turn around a different book! Good news: the blue book had no picture on the back.  I put that one in the front.

I hurried over to the self-checkout so I would not have to admit to a librarian what I was reading.  I felt weird about being this shifty, like I was checking out porn or something.  This made me wonder – do they have porn at the library?  They sell magazines…can you check out a Playboy?  That seems pretty disgusting, but hey – it’s 2016.  We live in a weird world.  Our country just elected Donald Trump.  Library porn is pretty low on the list of global concerns.

I’ve checked out books on bipolar disorder a bazillion times.  I think I’ve probably had every library book on the topic checked out.  I never got all shifty about checking those out.  But reading up on the new leader of the free world?  How embarrassing!  Obviously that’s a dumb way to feel, but this is a mental illness blog.  LET ME FEEL MY FEELINGS!

Okay, so I was embarrassed about the book, but I did the self checkout and hustled out of the library like my coat was on fire (this is a phrase I’ve never quite understood, because everyone knows that if your coat is on fire you should stop, drop, and roll.  To clarify: I did not stop, drop, and roll with this book.  I left the library in a rushed manner).

Now I’m at home, and I’m getting ready to read my secret books that are so, so much less sexy than library porn.

I Forgot the Crake

Mom: Are you picking your nose?  Kid: No, I’m scratching a bug bite that’s in my nose.

Why can’t I be that clever?

I’m visiting some family in Kansas, and I’m glad that I like them so much because there’s really no other reason to visit Kansas.  For real.  I asked my cousin what there is to do around here, and she said, “We do have a museum about our varieties of prairie grasses.”  I blankly stared at her after she said this.  Was she joking?  Nope, not joking.  Oh boy.

When you’re hanging out with five kids aged eight and under, you really don’t need activities (especially prairie grass museums).  They say quite enough to keep you entertained.  Yesterday we played in the backyard and tried to make a pile of leaves, but my cousin doesn’t have a rake.  This conversation ensued:

C (six years old): Hazel, do you have a crake?  (note: he calls a rake a “crake.”  I don’t pretend to know why).

Me: Yes, I do, but it’s back at my house in Michigan.

C: Can you go get it?

Me: Um, no.  I would have to get on another airplane.

C: Just take our car!

Me: I wouldn’t be back for another day!  Sorry dude, I can’t go get it.

C: *sulking* You really should have thought about bringing your crake while you were packing.

Now that I think of it, I have never seen anyone with a rake on an airplane.  There is no way that’s legal.  I wonder if anyone has ever attempted it.

Kids are so much fun.  I submit that they’re the best and worst possible thing for mental health.  When an eight year old hears you walk in late at night, and she has to run out of bed and sprint across the kitchen to give you a hug goodnight and say she loves you…well, there’s not a lot that’s better than that.  I’ve heard that having your own kids is not always so awesome, though, so maybe it’s good that I’m just visiting (even though I didn’t bring my crake).

Trolltally Strange

Right now I’m watching a YouTube video of a screechy person opening troll doll toys.  I’m sitting with my three-year-old niece, and this is one of her favorite “shows.”  It’s not a show.  It’s a person opening toys.  The voice is…how can I describe this?  Think of the high-pitched voice that people use when they talk to babies, but then raise it another octave, make it way too excited, and then put it on the living room surround sound.


I’m sorry, are the excessive capital letters annoying you?  I promise it sounds a thousand times worse if you’re listening to it.

Also, whose brilliant idea was it to make a character who hugs all of her friends every hour on the hour?  If anyone tries to hug me at three o’clock in the morning, they’re probably going to get punched or kicked.  Ask my husband if you don’t believe me.

Hold on, we have a new toy:


To be fair, if my skin was glitter I would probably be naked all the time too.

I’m supposed to be getting work done right now, but I can’t tear my eyes off of this spectacle.  My face is a mix or horror and intrigue.  This video, my friends, has almost a million views.  A MILLION.  Apparently this is a whole channel dedicated to buying toys and opening them.  This culture of three-year-old consumerism is completely new to me.

Oh no, the one year old is trying to plug the laptop cord into his mouth.  Gotta go.

In case you want to view the horror for yourself, I’m putting the link here.  Warning: if you open this at work, make sure no one else is around.  Everyone who hears you watching this video is going to think you’re a freak.