Monday, March 28, 2011

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Shirt, shoes, and consideration for others required

I lack the skill entirely to write the post I want to write. In which I say that men need to wear underwear while at the gym. In my dream writing-world I'm graceful, and couth, and I don't have to use words like PENIS and PLEASE STOP JOGGING in the same sentence. But in this world, the one in which people read my blog and then I might actually have to see them face to face, well I'd like to embarrass myself as little as possible, but I'm willing to risk a little embarrassment for the betterment of society.

THAT SAID. . .I wouldn't consider myself a sheltered person. And maybe it's more befitting of a lady to pretend to be so but come on, I went to public school, I have older siblings, and now I talk to students about sex, so this is not coming from some FEAR OF THE HOSE MONSTER. I get it, male anatomy is nothing a little duct tape can't fix DIFFERENT, whatevs. And going commando is your own business, most of the time. But when you're in public, and you're wearing loose silky shorts, and you're doin' things that are makin' it appear that you've got a wild animal in your trunks tryin' to break free, we've all got a problem.  Because wild animals are distracting. And some times wild animals are rabid and need to be euthanized, and when push comes to shove you don't always have to time to determine if said animal has rabies, you just have to make a decision and PROTECT THE CHILDREN! So Dude Who Loves a Nice Draft, the next time you vigorously lift weights next to my head, know that I'm fairly confident I could kill a wild animal with my 8 pound dumbbell. And no one is going to fault me if I say I was trying to protect the children.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Current Favorite Photo(s)

I cannnot stop loving these.

Freak Show

There should be a rule about my work not calling me before, oh I don't know, 5 a.m.? (And by 5 a.m. I mean 10 a.m.) I don't consider myself above interrupted sleep, the problem is that if ever I actually answer the phone upon being awoken by it I cannot account for what I might say. In the instance that you have never been subjected to my comatose demeanor, count your blessings and let me just tell you- I AM MEAN. Like. . .meaner-than-a-drunk-old-lady mean. (Oh, you've never been around either of my grandmothers when they're drunk? Lucky you.) I once had a friend tell me that if she ever called me again and could tell I was sleeping she would just hang up on me. I agreed this would be optimal for the preservation of our friendship. So as much as my friends can forgive me for being The Crazy Sleeping Bitch (ooo, I think I just found my circus act) I probably don't have the relationship with my boss to have her laugh off my repeated growls of WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME RIGHT NOW? YOU'RE BEING REALLY ANNOYING, so thank the Lord that I was coherent enough this morning at FOUR A.M. to hang up the phone before I said anything.

By the way, what in the world is with not admitting to being asleep when someone asks if you were sleeping?? To this day, when I clearly (clear as a mumbled grumpy form of WHAT DO YOU WANT?!) am asleep, I still respond with "no, I was just laying down for a bit". Which is about the equivalent of getting caught picking your nose and saying "I had an itch".

Please don't mind my face.

Aaaaand self-timer boredom.

Monday, March 21, 2011

I think I'm ready for my religious underwear

Something I've recognized lately is that I'm not the kind of blogger to give a casual play-by-play of my days. I talk about the things that, for one reason or another, are embedded in my memory (and damn it if I haven't tried to forget gangrene fingers!) but I likely won't ever ask "what did you do this weekend?" if for no other reason but "how was your weekend?" is one of my least favorite questions. Right up there with "so what's new with you?".  Reason being: either I don't remember or I'm sure that you don't care that I spent the majority of my weekend watching the first season of Big Love. Another reason: I went for a walk this weekend with my neighborhood family and we talked about all buying a house together; it would need at least seven bedrooms and three bathrooms, we would tear out the top floor and turn it into a community eating/dinning area, and we would plant a large garden so that we could be highly self-sustainable. Now combine the fact that I had a semi-serious discussion about living in a commune with the fact that I spent all of my other spare time watching Big Love and real quick-like I've reached creeper status alert and people are wanting to question my views on marriage and family.

(Now watch this segue)
Sister wife skirt anyone??

Side note: Big Love is seriously THE WEIRDEST SHOW EVER. And that opinion has so little to do with the polygamy. I'm not even kidding.

p.s. if you don't get the title joke, just trust me, it's funny.

Friday, March 18, 2011

I'll take a serving of sass with a side of something fried

I had never seen Fried Green Tomatoes until this week, and though I was expecting it be many things (namely nostalgic) I was not expecting it to be fashion inspiration. But I cannot think of a movie in which there were more outfits that I wanted to duplicate. Not only do I want to wear pants that are too big and cinch them up with a sturdy belt and wear loose cut-off overalls (seriously, I want to wear this), but I also want a Southern accent, and to kill men who beat their wives. Which, isn't so much a fashion thing as it is a style thing, and if my style says "hey! I hate wife beaters!" I think I'm okay with that. Especially if that style includes overalls. And an apron. And a best friend with whom I open a brash and charming cafĂ© where we serve fried things and barbecue and stay up late drinking beer and playing poker.

Note to self: learn how to play poker. And how to stand fearlessly in the face of a drunk.

credit in order: ladycoshow grannybranch starz dorothysurrenders

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Does my dental insurance cover assault?

So I like my dentist. Probably more than I should. Or at least probably more than most people like their dentist. But really, how often does a man gently touch my face and ask me how I'm feeling? All right then. But my dentist has a new assistant, and her I do not care for. And no, it isn't jealousy. I mean, has he opened the office on a Saturday for her and come in wearing his board shorts and lookin' all sorts of BOSS? I think not. But what, after her giving my tongue a hickey with the damn suction tube, not understanding that "I can feel that" actually means I CAN FEEL THAT AND IT DOESN'T FEEL GOOD, then asking me, while half of my face is numb, to smile- "no, smile BIG"- lady, not sure if you remember 10 minutes ago when ya'll made my face resemble that of a stroke patient, but I CAN'T TELL IF I'M SMILING OR NOT, and then not taking me seriously when I mumbled that I actually couldn't pry my mouth open with that death grip mold in there- "oh, you seriously can't open your mouth?" No no, I can, I'm just having too much fun with putty smothered around my teeth that I figured I'd just hang like this until hopefully the mold legitimately hardens and I have to take all my food through a straw. And, AND- if you scrape that sharp pointy tool across my tongue one more time, please don't be surprised if I scrape my knuckles across your chin. Thanks.

Sunday, March 13, 2011

It's 5am and I'm eating dark chocolate

Not because I stayed up so late (welcome to my life) but because I went to bed at a decent hour and apparently my body can only handle so much normalcy. So at 4am my body was all WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON??!!! and I was completely awake. Updating my blog and eating dark chocolate seemed like the most logical thing to do.

And even though I painted my nails about 5 hours ago, I'm thinking about taking it off and doing it again. MAKES SENSE TO ME!

Saturday, March 12, 2011

How the mighty fall

I was walking down some concrete steps this morning, you know, just like I've been doing since I learned to walk some 24 years ago and on the very last step, SOMETHING HAPPENED. Not quite sure what it was, other than Satan reaching up from hell and grabbing a hold of my EFFING STILETTO, but I piled. It was like a car accident, where the two seconds before impact you know SHIT IS GONNA HAPPEN but those two seconds feel like two minutes and the whole time you're thinking "this is going to hurt". Yes, well, IT DID. And it's okay if you think it's funny, I do too. Mostly because I can see it playing out as if I were someone else watching, and I can only imagine what an on-looker would think seeing this idiot go down without even a semblance of a fight but the thing is, there was nothing to grab on to. I knew it was just a matter of accepting the fall and not breaking my face. So no joke, I just went down DIRECTLY ONTO MY KNEES (can you hear knees hitting concrete right now?) and one palm and then I stood up and stated quite audibly "ef. That hurt." Now my knees resemble those of a five year old. And Seeing band aids on both my knees makes me laugh.

These are not those shoes.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

This might make you uncomfortable. No really, maybe don't read this.

For the last few weeks my apartment has been averaging about ONE BILLION DEGREES. Did I mention that it's snowing outside and we keep all of the windows open 24/7? Yeah well, I'M GOING INSANE. It presents a major problem when trying to get dressed for work because I can't show up a) in my swim suit, b) dressed like a prostitute, or c)naked, and do you know how difficult it is to keep clothes on while sweating?? (I'm going to answer this question and it's going to get awkward) I WOKE UP WITH MY UNDIES PULLED DOWN TO MY KNEES THIS MORNING. That's how difficult it is to keep clothes on while sweating; I'm taking my clothes off in my sleep. Believe me, it's much more embarrassing than scandalous. Did I wet the bed? Did I have a naughty dream? (of course I would never do that) OR DID I JUST SWEAT SO MUCH IN MY SLEEP THAT MY SLUMBERING BODY HAD TO TAKE SERIOUS AND IMMEDIATE ACTION IN ORDER TO KEEP ME ALIVE? (Note to people who may be dying: I am not a professional life-saver, maybe keep your clothes on. Unless you're sure you're dying, in which case, screw it! Get naked!) When moving into our apartment we thought it was great that we didn't have to pay for heat. Oh, but we do. We just didn't know we were going to be paying in body fluids and humiliation.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

TV may or may not rot your brain

Some times I worry that I'm going to run out of blog content and have nothing to write about. But I think that's only because I don't watch television. Whereas if I did watch television I'm sure I would be confident that I would always have something to remark on.

Exhibit A:
I was in the break room at work and heard this on TV: "it turns out the marijuana problem may have a Mexican connection".

Wait. So, what you're saying is Mexico. Might have something. To do with drugs. In America. HOLY. SHIT. I wonder how long this has been going on. Why has no one looked into this before??  WE NEED TO SHUT DOWN THE BORDERS!! 

Oh Wait.
This. Is. Not. News.
Now, please go watch the movie Traffic.

Exhibit B:
Local news was interviewing residents about the recent intermittent snow storm and one gentleman had this to say about it: "it just snows, and then stops snowing, and then snows some more. I don't know when to shovel and when to not shovel!" 

Which explains why he is so often seen wandering around with a snow shovel in the middle of summer.
Tip of the week: If there is snow on the ground, feel free to shovel it. If there is not snow on the ground, don't shovel.

Aaaaaand you’re welcome.

Monday, March 7, 2011

Let's get crunk (on sunshine)

Hey Spring, the rents are gone for the weekend and they left their wine coolers in the fridge. WANNA HANG OUT??

 it's gettin' crazy in here already.

P.S. If you come over I'll take my tights off for you, but nothing else.

Current Favorite Photo

Sunday, March 6, 2011

I rule this roost

Hey body, the next time you decide to sleep past our alarm five hours, know that I WILL BE RECLAIMING THOSE HOURS. And with interest.

Friday, March 4, 2011

Why, thank you.

Saying that my haircut makes me look like a 10 year old, does not a compliment make.
No matter how much you smile while saying it.
I have half a mind to mention that, as with most back handed compliments I receive at work, I don’t really care. But then people might stop giving me their unwarranted and inconsiderate opinions, and what with everyone minding their business and being nice I might have nothing to blog about! So I'll pretend I don't know that what you're really saying is "your haircut is juvenile and you look like a boy".

Tip of the Day:
When trying to pay someone a compliment, if at any point you question whether or not it is actually a compliment, it isn't.
I don't know what you're talking about, this is a totally natural position to stand in.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Suppy and demand folks, supply and demand!

So, I paint my nails about 3-4 times a week. It's just this thing I do. Some people alphabetize their DVD collection, some people live with their parents until they're 50, I paint my nails multiple times weekly. Part of the reason is that I hate having chipped polish, the other part is that the color I want, the color in my heart, changes every couple of days. And then some times it changes back.

However, in the last month I've been in a nail polish stump. More than a week collectively my nails have been without polish. None of the colors I have could get me excited and I couldn't even be talked into going and buying some. There was just no color in my heart! Well. A few days ago I figured out why I've been in this nail polish drought.

It's because THIS is what is in my heart, and until a few days ago I didn't even know it existed! Yes, OPI Black Shatter polish it what is in my heart. (Whatever, I don't have kids, I'm allowed to be this vain).

Long story short, IT CANNOT BE FOUND ANYWHERE IN TOWN. No joke. I have called six different salons, everyone is sold out. Once again, I am stumped. This time because I live in a small city; WHO THE HECK IS BUYING OUT ALL THE OPI?!

Prior to this fiasco I recognized that I paint my nails freakishly often, but I didn't really think it was an issue. However. The fact that I'm even considering paying $18.95 for this on eBay has raised some concerns. Nail polish might be my heroin. But maybe so long as I'm not selling my body for my next coat of polish, we're okay?

photo credit