Okay, so I actually had a request for a new blog post. I can't freaking believe it. People love me, they really, really love me!
But, sucks for you, I can't think of any awesome stories or anecdotes for you loverlies, so instead, I give you:
Shit I've Found on the Internet (from now on: SIFONI...hmm, said fast enough, it sounds like "symphony," I take this as a sign): Part Un
The only true way to find shit on the internet is to use "Stumbleupon" or what the fuck it is called. Awesome find #1: "Cliche Finder." Here, you can pop in a word into the search engine and it will find you a cliche that uses the word. What word did I try to find first? Poop. Cliche: Do you have pigeon poop in your ears?
Use it in a conversation this week and report back.
Oh, and P.S. apparently you can hit random and 10 cliches will just appear.
Not-so-awesome find: "This Day in Music" You type in your day and month (ideally, some important date to you) and it will pop up every year's history in music (stuff like #1 hit song, etc.) While typically, this would be AWESOME for me because I do love music, but this shitty ass web site doesn't have my birth year! Is this indicative of my love of music? Did the music die for just one day?
Awesome drinking game find: "The Brainstormer." On this web site, you click the button "random" and 3 wheels spin around and eventually 3 ideas/words match up. Why? Who the hell knows, but we can totally make this into a drinking game.
Go here - http://www.distractionbeast.com/brainstormer.swf
Click "random."
If the outer ring has a word that can be associated with something in current events, take a drink.
If the outer ring has a word that can be associated with the oil spill, make an "Ocean Breeze" and take 2 drinks.
The first person to think of a sexual pose using a word from the outer ring gets to give away two drinks to anyone in the room.
If the outer ring lands on "bottomless pit," it is time for a group waterfall!
If the middle ring has a word that stereotypes someone in the room, make them drink.
If the middle ring has a word that describes the weather outside at the moment, take a drink and give one away.
If the middle ring has a word that describes what you WISH the weather was like, everyone finishes their beverage.
And, because I can't think of anything awesome for the inner ring, just shout out the words, cheers everyone, and take a drink.
As a little extra something, something - if you can think of a wicked awesome movie (with the inner ring being the title and the other two rings being in the description) make everyone else take a shot of whatever they're drinking. If more than one person thinks of a movie, the group can vote on which movie would be better.
Okay, well, I guess stumble bumble bee is having my kind of day and just not being clever. Damn you, Stumble.
Love me, miss me, call me.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
I have a vagina.
Waiting rooms are kind of the bane of my existence. They're always associated with non-exciting things: doctor, dentist, orthodontist, emergency room, the car place, etc. Of course, how many people out there actually like waiting rooms? Maybe I'm not alone in this. Well, today I have had to sit in (at least) 2 waiting rooms. Here is what they have in common: really bad magazines.
Some waiting rooms try to cater to their demographic, which is sensible and all around a good idea. But, the ones that annoy me the most are the ones that cater to people in the same line of work as whatever office you're in. Let's talk about how this is NOT a good idea. Say I'm a mechanic. Why in the hell would I go to someone else, sit in their waiting room, read their Car and Driver magazine, and let them take money from me for something I can do on my own? Yeah, that's right, I'm talking to you City Tire & Wheels. There are plenty of independent women in the world who can get in their air conditioned, automatic cars and drive them to the mechanic to have him change the oil, grunt, spit and fix our tires. Therefore, maybe you should think of putting out some other magazines. And you know, educated people drive cars, too! Where's Time? Or Newsweek? Or my personal fav, Vanity Fair?
But this place gets even better. At least there is a TV in here. So, you've got Car and Driver magazines (and other equally manly reading materials) on the tables and, get this, Martha fucking Stewart on TV. How does this make any sense? Shouldn't Spike TV be on or something to round out this waiting room? *sidenote* Big Bird is the guest right now. Is this their (by their I mean the man) way of enforcing stereotypes? Cause I'd at least rather it be all Oprah all the time.
Alas, the only reason I'm even writing this post is to give myself something to do. I hate having to wait in a waiting room unprepared. Stupid nail in my stupid tire.
Oh, and on a related note, just because I have a uterus doesn't mean you can convince me to buy a bunch of crap for my car that it doesn't need.
/rant.
Some waiting rooms try to cater to their demographic, which is sensible and all around a good idea. But, the ones that annoy me the most are the ones that cater to people in the same line of work as whatever office you're in. Let's talk about how this is NOT a good idea. Say I'm a mechanic. Why in the hell would I go to someone else, sit in their waiting room, read their Car and Driver magazine, and let them take money from me for something I can do on my own? Yeah, that's right, I'm talking to you City Tire & Wheels. There are plenty of independent women in the world who can get in their air conditioned, automatic cars and drive them to the mechanic to have him change the oil, grunt, spit and fix our tires. Therefore, maybe you should think of putting out some other magazines. And you know, educated people drive cars, too! Where's Time? Or Newsweek? Or my personal fav, Vanity Fair?
But this place gets even better. At least there is a TV in here. So, you've got Car and Driver magazines (and other equally manly reading materials) on the tables and, get this, Martha fucking Stewart on TV. How does this make any sense? Shouldn't Spike TV be on or something to round out this waiting room? *sidenote* Big Bird is the guest right now. Is this their (by their I mean the man) way of enforcing stereotypes? Cause I'd at least rather it be all Oprah all the time.
Alas, the only reason I'm even writing this post is to give myself something to do. I hate having to wait in a waiting room unprepared. Stupid nail in my stupid tire.
Oh, and on a related note, just because I have a uterus doesn't mean you can convince me to buy a bunch of crap for my car that it doesn't need.
/rant.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Preacher vs. The Apt Management
I'm filling/feeling out this application sheet to live in my apt complex. Although I live in this apt currently, the management is requiring everyone to fill out a NEW AND IMPROVED application form- but they are kindly waiving the fee for all current residents. They had to reach deep down to find this kindness. I mean, I have had some WORDS with these people.
FOR EXAMPLE!! One time I asked them to change the burnt out light bulb in my front entry way. Well, APPARENTLY, that is NOT something they do. I explained to them that the problem was that that is not something I do, either. And you know what they did? THEY LAUGHED! Like I was joking! Pfft. I could see this was an official fight for dominance and I was not going to give up that easily. Since this struggle for power over my apt complex, I call at least once a week asking them to change the light bulb in the front entryway. Because of these weekly calls, 2 things have happened. 1) I learned that my apt complex does indeed have caller ID in their offices and 2) my calls are screened every time I call and I am required to leave desperate messages to a computer generated voice mail. My front entry way has been dark and grim for over 9 months now, but I'll be damned if I'm going to be the first one to give in.
ANOTHER EXAMPLE!! The HOT WATER handle on my sink unscrewed "itself" (I actually think that Samara from The Ring found me and is haunting my new apt now. BACK OFF SAMARA! BACK! OFF!) Well, I immediately panicked and called the apt complex (THANK GOD FOR WEEKEND HELP!) My name was not recognized on the caller ID and my call was answered. I explained that my apt was possibly haunted and as a result the handle on my sink was no longer attached to the sink.
She asked if there was a leak.
No.
She asked if it was actual handle or the "decorative" handle.
Well, I wouldn't call this decorative...
She asked if the part that fell off was white or metal.
White.
She explained that that was only the "decorative" part of the handle and that the hot water function of the sink did not need the "decorative" part to produce hot water.
But it's hideous.
She explained that she would send someone out sometime Monday to fix it for me.
OMG! WHAT?! Can't you send someone now?! It's UGLY!
She explained that she wouldn't use the word "ugly" and that they only did maintenance calls on the weekends for emergencies.
MY MOM'S COMING OVER (lie) AND SHE WILL THINK I LIVE IN A DUMP IF MY SINK IS FALLING APART LIKE THIS!
She told me that if I explained to my mom the difference between the "decorative" part of the sink and the "functional" part of the sink, my mom would understand that the sink is not falling apart.
BUT SHE WON'T UNDERSTAND THAT IT'S NOT UGLY!
She explained it would be fixed Monday.
BUT WHAT ABOUT MY MOM! YOU DON'T KNOW MY MOM!! SHE'S COMING TO-DAY! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!
(This is my favorite part of the conversation)
She then tells me, and I quote, "Ma'am, the events of your life do not constitute an emergency."
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Touche weekend help. You win this round.
Anyway, the application is asking for my height and weight! WTF? This makes me think they're trying to play a cruel joke on the short tubby girl in apt 123. Well, jokes on you apt managers! According to my NOTARIZED "NEW AND APPROVED" application, I'm 5'10'', 115lbs! OOOOOOOH, SNAP BITCHES!
Preacher loves you and the events that constitute your life.
FOR EXAMPLE!! One time I asked them to change the burnt out light bulb in my front entry way. Well, APPARENTLY, that is NOT something they do. I explained to them that the problem was that that is not something I do, either. And you know what they did? THEY LAUGHED! Like I was joking! Pfft. I could see this was an official fight for dominance and I was not going to give up that easily. Since this struggle for power over my apt complex, I call at least once a week asking them to change the light bulb in the front entryway. Because of these weekly calls, 2 things have happened. 1) I learned that my apt complex does indeed have caller ID in their offices and 2) my calls are screened every time I call and I am required to leave desperate messages to a computer generated voice mail. My front entry way has been dark and grim for over 9 months now, but I'll be damned if I'm going to be the first one to give in.
ANOTHER EXAMPLE!! The HOT WATER handle on my sink unscrewed "itself" (I actually think that Samara from The Ring found me and is haunting my new apt now. BACK OFF SAMARA! BACK! OFF!) Well, I immediately panicked and called the apt complex (THANK GOD FOR WEEKEND HELP!) My name was not recognized on the caller ID and my call was answered. I explained that my apt was possibly haunted and as a result the handle on my sink was no longer attached to the sink.
She asked if there was a leak.
No.
She asked if it was actual handle or the "decorative" handle.
Well, I wouldn't call this decorative...
She asked if the part that fell off was white or metal.
White.
She explained that that was only the "decorative" part of the handle and that the hot water function of the sink did not need the "decorative" part to produce hot water.
But it's hideous.
She explained that she would send someone out sometime Monday to fix it for me.
OMG! WHAT?! Can't you send someone now?! It's UGLY!
She explained that she wouldn't use the word "ugly" and that they only did maintenance calls on the weekends for emergencies.
MY MOM'S COMING OVER (lie) AND SHE WILL THINK I LIVE IN A DUMP IF MY SINK IS FALLING APART LIKE THIS!
She told me that if I explained to my mom the difference between the "decorative" part of the sink and the "functional" part of the sink, my mom would understand that the sink is not falling apart.
BUT SHE WON'T UNDERSTAND THAT IT'S NOT UGLY!
She explained it would be fixed Monday.
BUT WHAT ABOUT MY MOM! YOU DON'T KNOW MY MOM!! SHE'S COMING TO-DAY! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!
(This is my favorite part of the conversation)
She then tells me, and I quote, "Ma'am, the events of your life do not constitute an emergency."
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Touche weekend help. You win this round.
Anyway, the application is asking for my height and weight! WTF? This makes me think they're trying to play a cruel joke on the short tubby girl in apt 123. Well, jokes on you apt managers! According to my NOTARIZED "NEW AND APPROVED" application, I'm 5'10'', 115lbs! OOOOOOOH, SNAP BITCHES!
Preacher loves you and the events that constitute your life.
Monday, May 17, 2010
If you unfriend me on Facebook, it may take a while before I realize it.
We all know about my mad love for Facebook. I mean, I think I've talked about it quite enough in the few posts I've written already. But, hell, my life revolves around that precious multi-blue-toned web site. I mean, there are times when I am out having a fabulous time with friends, but all I think about is whether or not someone has "liked" or commented on a post of mine. I just need some validation, people!
So, let's discuss Facebook some more. *Sidenote* Oh God, I really hope that at my funeral I am not only remembered for my love of Facebook. I mean, shit, I did some other stuff while I was alive...right? Oh, who the hell am I kidding? I probably won't even be able to have a real, live wedding. It'll have to be done on Facebook.
Anyway, back to my bff, FB. I'm really selective when it comes to who I "allow" to know the FB version of myself (you know - the one where only the flattering aspects - ie, photos - of you are kept around and all the others become "non-existent" -- because if they're not showing up my page, they no longer exist in the world...yes?). Therefore, I delete people and ignore others ALL OF THE TIME. I feel like you shouldn't be angry with me. It's not my fault that FB cut back on the privacy stuff. If it would just go back to not allowing ANYONE to add me on there, I would never have to ignore you. And ignore you. And ignore you. I feel like there are couple of people out there who are either too dense to realize I've already deleted and then, ignored their requests or are determined to beat down my will.
The real reason I'm mentioning this is that today, I was on a friend's FB page. Well, actually, homeboy is a friend of my brother's. So, I look over at the "mutual friends" tab and see that my brother is not there. WHAT THE FUCK? I live with the ass hat and he has UNFRIENDED ME?! I was two seconds away from storming into the kitchen (where I could hear him rumbling around in) and demand to know what the hell is going on. But, then I started thinking. You know, I get drunk and tend to do some really stupid shit. Like, this one time, I deleted EVERY SINGLE person out of my phone in a drunken attempt to delete only one person. So, now I'm sitting in my room wondering: did I get really drunk and mad at him? (Well, yes, that happens often. I tend to not like my brother in any kind of way when I'm drinking). Okay, well did I get really drunk and mad at him and whip out my Blackberry faster than you can say "Betty White is my Lord and Savior" and delete his ass to show him just how angry I was? I dunno. But, it is totally possible. So, as of now, I will sit in my room and continue to contemplate this before storming in there and throwing a beer bottle at his head.
Call me, miss me, love me.
So, let's discuss Facebook some more. *Sidenote* Oh God, I really hope that at my funeral I am not only remembered for my love of Facebook. I mean, shit, I did some other stuff while I was alive...right? Oh, who the hell am I kidding? I probably won't even be able to have a real, live wedding. It'll have to be done on Facebook.
Anyway, back to my bff, FB. I'm really selective when it comes to who I "allow" to know the FB version of myself (you know - the one where only the flattering aspects - ie, photos - of you are kept around and all the others become "non-existent" -- because if they're not showing up my page, they no longer exist in the world...yes?). Therefore, I delete people and ignore others ALL OF THE TIME. I feel like you shouldn't be angry with me. It's not my fault that FB cut back on the privacy stuff. If it would just go back to not allowing ANYONE to add me on there, I would never have to ignore you. And ignore you. And ignore you. I feel like there are couple of people out there who are either too dense to realize I've already deleted and then, ignored their requests or are determined to beat down my will.
The real reason I'm mentioning this is that today, I was on a friend's FB page. Well, actually, homeboy is a friend of my brother's. So, I look over at the "mutual friends" tab and see that my brother is not there. WHAT THE FUCK? I live with the ass hat and he has UNFRIENDED ME?! I was two seconds away from storming into the kitchen (where I could hear him rumbling around in) and demand to know what the hell is going on. But, then I started thinking. You know, I get drunk and tend to do some really stupid shit. Like, this one time, I deleted EVERY SINGLE person out of my phone in a drunken attempt to delete only one person. So, now I'm sitting in my room wondering: did I get really drunk and mad at him? (Well, yes, that happens often. I tend to not like my brother in any kind of way when I'm drinking). Okay, well did I get really drunk and mad at him and whip out my Blackberry faster than you can say "Betty White is my Lord and Savior" and delete his ass to show him just how angry I was? I dunno. But, it is totally possible. So, as of now, I will sit in my room and continue to contemplate this before storming in there and throwing a beer bottle at his head.
Call me, miss me, love me.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
What Women Want
Or more accurately, what I want. This post should probably be titled "how to get a piece of this hot piece."
Step One. Never call me a piece.
I've noticed that a lot of women will put up a do's and don'ts list for men. Sometimes they even do this outside of their myspace/facebook/twitter/recently published memoirs. Sometimes, they instead blast this from their lungs at every interaction with men, suitor of friend alike.
This is not one of those posts.
This, my sadly numbered audience, is a simple post about one don't that's really be grating my nerves lately
DON'T call me wifey, boo, lil mama, or anything else you've heard in the latest club remix. In fact, please refrain from any terms of "endearment" until you've learned my ACTUAL name. And oh by the way, even then, never use those listed above.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Alcohol makes me feel awesome.
Whoever made alcohol so fun and hurt so bad needs to be taken to the community square and flogged. You know that responsible feeling you get at the beginning of the night, when you're like "Noooo, I'm not going to drink too much tonight. It's going to be a nice chill evening"? Yeah, fuck that and those famous last words. Well, my nice chill evening started at 1pm at a winery. Between six girls, we polished off a good 8-10 bottles of wine. Who doesn't think that is an awesome idea is stupid. I'm not even sure I'm making sense right now.
Seriously, I'm too old for this shit.
Seriously, I'm too old for this shit.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
My terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day
When thinking about my day yesterday, it reminded me of a day that could possibly be classified as being worse than eating ants for lunch. Here's the scoop:
First, I woke up at 6 am barfing.
Second, my alarm (which I'm sure I set with some brilliant planning in my drunken stooper) went off at 845, which gave me approximately negative 10 minutes to leave and be on time to class my first day. Since my alarm went off so late, I thought "well, if you HAVE to miss a day of school, missing the first day WOULD be the best day to miss..." But I thought that would be a bad way to start the new year off-and this was gonna be a GOOD year-, so I sucked it up and went to brush my teeth. Simultaneously, Burly comes walking out of her room in her towel saying "fuck. fuck. fuck." with every step she took. She had to be at work at 9, so we were both running late.
I finally got to school, and couldn't go any further without a diet coke. I needed a caffeine fix in a bad way. So I buy my diet coke for 75 cents (highway robbery) and walk into class 15 minutes late. I walk up to the teacher to grab the syllabus and WHOOSH!-my diet coke falls, splashing everywhere on the floor. Great start.
I look up and the teacher looked PISSSSSSSSSSSED. I couldn't apologize (well, I could have apologized but didn't) and I didn't know her name yet and I couldn't read my syllabus to figure it out because the diet coke had smeared the fresh ink. I was not in a perky mood myself, so I looked up and said, "Look Teach, I know this diet coke needs to be wiped up, and I have every intention of cleaning it, but I really need the caffeine that is now splattered on the floor. So during my trip to the bathroom for paper towels, I'm going to stop by the vending machines and get a diet coke. I'll be right back." Needless to say, I had a little 'talking to' after class...
Then, I get to leave school. So I call Burly to tell her how my day had been so far, and I spot a Dairy Queen. It was like UT had beat OU. I started screaming "WHOOOOO!! WHOOO!!! I'm getting a blizzard! WHOOO!!" It was like, all my problems ever in my life could be solved by this one perfect blizzard I was about to buy. I drive over to Dairy Queen and am sitting in front of the drive through window for what seemed like FOREVER! I started saying "HELLO?! Hello? DOES ANYBODY WORK HERE?!!" Then the lady speaks to me through the speakers and says, "Uh, ma'am. We're not opened until 11." I said, "I'll wait." And she goes, "That's like, 35 minutes..." I was like, "Oh, okay. I'll go." I REALLY need to get a clock in my car...
That plan foiled. So I drove down Stasney and the train crossing rails come down. I'm like, 2 cars back from the bars and the line of cars behind me is piling up. I've never had a problem with Union Pacific. In fact, if I had to choose, they would probably be my favorite train company. But today, they failed me. I'm watching the train go by and I'm thinking, "Wow...this is a looooooooong train. Kinda cool...Is it slowing down. Why is it slowing down? WHY IS IT SLOWING DOWN?!"...then...it stopped. Union Pacific conductors think they own the whole fucking road. Everybody behind me is able to do the turn around, but there was (of course) one freaking car that blocked my way.
A hippie lady.
With dreads.
Driving a Volkswagen van.
All she had to do was turn around, then I could turn around, and we could both be on our merry little ways. But that lady was DETERMINED to out wait the train. So I had to HOP THE CURB in my BUICK in order to turn around. My Buick! The aligning was NEVER the same after that. And all because that hippie lady, probably for the first time in her life, was following through with something; out waiting the Union Pacific train.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Facebook Chat is a trap.
Here's the deal. I'm not a girly-girl. Don't get me wrong, I love curling my hair, wearing makeup, buying shoes (granted, they're Converse and not Gucci) and squealing at high octaves when seeing friends. But, when it comes to relationships, I very much have a "boy" brain. Maybe this is why most of my friends hold off on talking to me about their relationships until they're ready to accept the cold hard truth. Luckily, (well, for your reading pleasure - not for my own sanity) there are some people out there who are unaware of my general pessimism and love for the book "He's Just Not That Into You".
Which brings me to the inspiration behind tonight's blog post. I have thisfriend acquaintance friend's ex-girlfriend who keeps bombarding me on Facebook to...Well, honestly, I'm not quite sure what she wants. At first, it sounded as if she was asking for advice about what to do to get him back or if there was even a chance. Then, she got me after some big talk they had (via Facebook, so we're, like, 16 again), she was telling me about how "she blew it with him." Honey, you didn't blow it. You never had it. I told her the guy is a selfish asshole and she's better off without it. Move on, sweetie. Her response? It would be so much better if he were an asshole, then it would be easier. He's not an asshole because he keeps apologizing for hurting me! **blink, blink** Is she serious? I kind of want to photocopy the pages to chapter 8: "he's just not that into you if he's breaking up with you" and mail them to her. Or maybe just the title page because it is all right there in the heading.
What am I saying? I don't really know. Perhaps I should make sure that every guy who is slightly interested in me reads this book. Maybe I just want to make sure that every female out there HAS read this book. Maybe that would prevent me from having to be bitchy mcbitcherson all of the time. Or from being told "Yeah, but..." There is no "but." We are the rule, not the exception.
Now onto me praising this book. I've been friends with lots of guys through the years. This book nails each and every one of them right on the freaking head. Guys are not complicated. Girls are complicated. Guys don't "mean" things, they say what they mean. Girls are complicated. Guys will make it known whether they're into you. Girls are complicated. The sooner everyone gets this and lives it, the better my life will be.
Miss me, love me, call me.
Which brings me to the inspiration behind tonight's blog post. I have this
What am I saying? I don't really know. Perhaps I should make sure that every guy who is slightly interested in me reads this book. Maybe I just want to make sure that every female out there HAS read this book. Maybe that would prevent me from having to be bitchy mcbitcherson all of the time. Or from being told "Yeah, but..." There is no "but." We are the rule, not the exception.
Now onto me praising this book. I've been friends with lots of guys through the years. This book nails each and every one of them right on the freaking head. Guys are not complicated. Girls are complicated. Guys don't "mean" things, they say what they mean. Girls are complicated. Guys will make it known whether they're into you. Girls are complicated. The sooner everyone gets this and lives it, the better my life will be.
Miss me, love me, call me.
Not-So-Happy Mother's Day
So, I lied on my last post. I am NOT computer savvy- AT ALL! Every freaking time I want to post something I have to ask Dragon Slayer for assistance. I'm not sorry I lied. I was trying to impress you people. Given our steady number of "followers", that is a near impossible feat.
Anyway! I'm having "one of those days". I just looked at my bank account and realized that I have 30 bucks to "play with" for the next two weeks.
What. The. Fuck.
I can't live off of 30 dollars of groceries over a two week period. How am I supposed to keep up the PARTY-ALL-THE-TIME lifestyle I've grown so accustomed to?! Also, Mother's Day is coming up this weekend. Do home-made arts&crafts still count as heartfelt gifts?
"Happy Mother's Day, mom."
"What is it?"
"It's a vase filled with flowers."
"It's an empty vodka bottle with grass in it."
"Aw, no need to get all mushy. You're worth it."
Yeah...looks like I'm about to be written out of the will. On another pissy-day note, I'm 95% sure I saw at least 4 ants crawl out of my Lean"Comfort Cuisine" lunch. I ate it anyway because I'm pathetic and was slightly hungry.
Preacher loves you and you're out-dated ant farm.
Anyway! I'm having "one of those days". I just looked at my bank account and realized that I have 30 bucks to "play with" for the next two weeks.
What. The. Fuck.
I can't live off of 30 dollars of groceries over a two week period. How am I supposed to keep up the PARTY-ALL-THE-TIME lifestyle I've grown so accustomed to?! Also, Mother's Day is coming up this weekend. Do home-made arts&crafts still count as heartfelt gifts?
"Happy Mother's Day, mom."
"What is it?"
"It's a vase filled with flowers."
"It's an empty vodka bottle with grass in it."
"Aw, no need to get all mushy. You're worth it."
Yeah...looks like I'm about to be written out of the will. On another pissy-day note, I'm 95% sure I saw at least 4 ants crawl out of my Lean"Comfort Cuisine" lunch. I ate it anyway because I'm pathetic and was slightly hungry.
Preacher loves you and you're out-dated ant farm.
Monday, May 3, 2010
BLOG post # 2 and still apologizing!
SOOOOOOOOOOOO sorry for my extended absence! I see we still have a WHOPPING 4 "followers" who have immensely missed my take on everyday life situations.
What happened was, I recently acquired a new male roommate. His name is Flesh Colored Beard (from hear on out he will be refereed to as FCB). I've had 8 different roommates in my time- all female. 3 out of 8 of my ex- roommates and my relationship have ended greatly! We're still friends and sometimes chat on g-chat and ask each other about our boyfriends. The other 5 out of 8 of my ex-roommate's and I's relationship have ended with sobs and/or law suits, but I've matured since then and am no longer bitter. (BUNCH OF FUCKING COWS!).
ANYWAY, the point is, the fact that all my roommates were female and had full access to my computer never caused a problem. I give FCB my password and less than a week later, i have a virus that eats through all my computer shit. (Sorry for using the technical terms. I'm what some might call a computer guru and I get carried away with the computer language.) I tried to explain to FCB that, just like in real life, when dealing with shady people/websites, one MUST be careful and use the proper protection or else you WILL get pregnant and die. Well, FCB did not heed my advice and so my computer died.
But I'm back on track now (CAN I GET A WHOOP WHOOP!) and am ready to continue BLOGging.
Peace in the Middle East, mother fuckers!
Preacher loves you and you're porn-obsessed roommate.
What happened was, I recently acquired a new male roommate. His name is Flesh Colored Beard (from hear on out he will be refereed to as FCB). I've had 8 different roommates in my time- all female. 3 out of 8 of my ex- roommates and my relationship have ended greatly! We're still friends and sometimes chat on g-chat and ask each other about our boyfriends. The other 5 out of 8 of my ex-roommate's and I's relationship have ended with sobs and/or law suits, but I've matured since then and am no longer bitter. (BUNCH OF FUCKING COWS!).
ANYWAY, the point is, the fact that all my roommates were female and had full access to my computer never caused a problem. I give FCB my password and less than a week later, i have a virus that eats through all my computer shit. (Sorry for using the technical terms. I'm what some might call a computer guru and I get carried away with the computer language.) I tried to explain to FCB that, just like in real life, when dealing with shady people/websites, one MUST be careful and use the proper protection or else you WILL get pregnant and die. Well, FCB did not heed my advice and so my computer died.
But I'm back on track now (CAN I GET A WHOOP WHOOP!) and am ready to continue BLOGging.
Peace in the Middle East, mother fuckers!
Preacher loves you and you're porn-obsessed roommate.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
LOLOL - its complicated!
To start off the evening, I would like to get something incredibly important off of my chest. I hate "LOL." Like, genuinely despise the acronym. I want the acronym to go play with "Imma Be" in traffic. Or be thrown into the oil spill prior to the oil being burned up. Or be made into tablet form and thrown into Rush Limbaugh's typical diet. Do you get it? Which one is it, anyway? "Laugh out loud" or "Lots of laughs." OMG, I don't fucking care.
In other news, today I competed in the Warrior Dash. Description: something about mud, sweat and beer. I really don't think you can get any more accurate than that. The race was held out in small town USA, where the people are supposed to be friendly and inviting. Well, that's bull shit. Small town USA can kiss my ass. If I have to hear "this is private property" one more time, I may consider buying the adjacent land and pointing speakers at their house/business on remote control so that I can blare "Imma Be" - on repeat - and stop it right before the Sheriff's Department can roll in and do something to stop it permanently. I would gladly pay that fine, either way.
Can you freaking believe it is May? I have been unemployed for over 2 months. Is it possible for your muscles to atrophy even though you still get up and walk to the bathroom/kitchen? My mom's couch has a permanent indention of my ass. I keep telling myself I need to rotate the cushions, but then I remember that I don't give a shit and I'm far too lazy to muster up enough energy and determination to stand up for the 3 minutes to accomplish this feat.
Hhmm, is it becoming more clear as to why I'm unemployed. How did I not get laid off sooner?
- Its Complicated is damn funny and you need to watch it immediately.
Speaking of, why was that phrase ever thought up? Every relationship is complicated, so Facebook might as well take away "married to," "in a relationship with," "engaged to," etc and have the only option be "Its complicated with" and "Its complicated" (for those "sssssiiiiiiinnnnggggggllleeee!" people out there).
Okay, Dragon Slayer - out.
Love me, miss me, call me.
In other news, today I competed in the Warrior Dash. Description: something about mud, sweat and beer. I really don't think you can get any more accurate than that. The race was held out in small town USA, where the people are supposed to be friendly and inviting. Well, that's bull shit. Small town USA can kiss my ass. If I have to hear "this is private property" one more time, I may consider buying the adjacent land and pointing speakers at their house/business on remote control so that I can blare "Imma Be" - on repeat - and stop it right before the Sheriff's Department can roll in and do something to stop it permanently. I would gladly pay that fine, either way.
Can you freaking believe it is May? I have been unemployed for over 2 months. Is it possible for your muscles to atrophy even though you still get up and walk to the bathroom/kitchen? My mom's couch has a permanent indention of my ass. I keep telling myself I need to rotate the cushions, but then I remember that I don't give a shit and I'm far too lazy to muster up enough energy and determination to stand up for the 3 minutes to accomplish this feat.
Hhmm, is it becoming more clear as to why I'm unemployed. How did I not get laid off sooner?
- Its Complicated is damn funny and you need to watch it immediately.
Speaking of, why was that phrase ever thought up? Every relationship is complicated, so Facebook might as well take away "married to," "in a relationship with," "engaged to," etc and have the only option be "Its complicated with" and "Its complicated" (for those "sssssiiiiiiinnnnggggggllleeee!" people out there).
Okay, Dragon Slayer - out.
Love me, miss me, call me.
Thank You for Being a Friend
I should probably echo the earlier apology on my behalf...
Actually I'm not sorry. My Ute does what it wants, when it wants. There is no controlling, and if I have to deal with it, I'm certainly not going to apologize for it.
But another rant is not my purpose here today. Instead, I wanted to let the world in on a little secret. Drum roll please..... THERE ARE GOLDEN GIRLS GREETING CARDS!
That's right. Be impressed right now. And while I can't confirm that they are in wide distribution, I can tell you that a novelty shop in Chelsea sells them right next to some leather and chains.
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