12.10.2012
Thpeech.
Quick Thought: any point I'm ever trying to make immediately becomes void when I fail to pronounce "statistically" correctly. Friggin lithp.
11.20.2012
Big Red Balls and Small White Titties
tonight. i witnessed the song "rack city, bitch" come to life.
It's been a couple months since I've seen my mother so I was delighted when she informed me she'd make the long trip down here for Veteran's Day weekend. when my family visits it always means I'll be blessed with groceries, some new clothes and guaranteed laughs. tonight however, I was given much more than a laugh. I was given the opportunity to throw dollar bills at my Mother, like a lost soul on a pole... in a department store. Only this wouldn't have quenched any thirst for a dirty fantasy had by anybody that got a little hot at the thought of a good bargain.
When you walk into Target, you're greeted by large red balls... I love being greeted by balls, that are really big and in your face. They're so inviting and fun. That's why they make pits full of them.. most sports involve them and let's be honest you were not expecting me to be talking little spheres. pervert. Another thing I was greeted by this night was the blinding proof that my mother does not use her own tanning beds or common sense.
We were walking down the aisles digging into each rack of clothes like the harder we looked the cheaper the clothes would get. Tags were flying, the booming of Silver Bells was over powering my ear drums, my own exhaustion from the day had me feeling a little delusional and then I hear it...
"nichole.. do you think this buttom up is nice?""yeah i dont mind it. with those orange pants?"
"yeah but i need to try it on first..."
Now, let me interject my own conversation and describe my mother's attire (which is not unlike her)... Bra, Tank Top, Button Up Cardigan and a scarf. oh and pants. Now on my way out of this interjection, I'll leave you with, she was not wearing one of those items.
It seems as if the world turned to slow motion as I turned my head back to see if the shirt she had picked out in fact did fit her. However, as she lifted her cardigan sweater up in the middle of the aisle of the very busy, very lit Target I realized she wasn't actually wearing her tank top that she had been so confident in. I tried to call out to her..
(in slow motion voice) "Moooom. Nooooo!"
"whaaaat?"(in really high pitched voice) "MOM! YOU'RE NAKED!"
Her arms crossed all the way above her head, with a handful of sweater in each fist as if she was holding onto that blue friggin diamind when the Titanic was sinking, and the rest of the cardigan sitting at her elbows, while her breasticles and belly were feeling out the room's temperature is when her reaction began. It was similar to that of when you're getting undressed in the bathroom to take your shower and someone walks in...you're not sure which part to cover first so your body goes into a tourettes like defense trying to cover all your goodies at once. Well imagine my petite little mother, trying to cover ONE part of her body with her hands in a knitted vice, stuck above her head as if she was waving to onlookers "NUDITY, AISLE FIVE!" Victoria's secret and my worst nightmare was on the table... my mom and her bits all out for the discount shoppers to see. I'm just glad she wasn't wearing a mistletoe necklace or shit could've gotten real weird, real fast.
I tried very hard to shield her from prying eyes but the laugh that erupted from me was more of a call of attention than a plee for avoidance. At this point, she's bent over with her shirt still over her head because she can't get her arms down, so I did what any daughter would... I grabbed her by the back of the neck into a submission type hold and without letting her lose conciousness I pulled her shirt down. Felt like I was in a hockey fight, all I needed to do was punch her but in this instance there was no need for violence.
I'm just glad stores dont let you try on thongs, who knows what would've happened next.
God Bless America.
It's been a couple months since I've seen my mother so I was delighted when she informed me she'd make the long trip down here for Veteran's Day weekend. when my family visits it always means I'll be blessed with groceries, some new clothes and guaranteed laughs. tonight however, I was given much more than a laugh. I was given the opportunity to throw dollar bills at my Mother, like a lost soul on a pole... in a department store. Only this wouldn't have quenched any thirst for a dirty fantasy had by anybody that got a little hot at the thought of a good bargain.
When you walk into Target, you're greeted by large red balls... I love being greeted by balls, that are really big and in your face. They're so inviting and fun. That's why they make pits full of them.. most sports involve them and let's be honest you were not expecting me to be talking little spheres. pervert. Another thing I was greeted by this night was the blinding proof that my mother does not use her own tanning beds or common sense.
We were walking down the aisles digging into each rack of clothes like the harder we looked the cheaper the clothes would get. Tags were flying, the booming of Silver Bells was over powering my ear drums, my own exhaustion from the day had me feeling a little delusional and then I hear it...
"nichole.. do you think this buttom up is nice?""yeah i dont mind it. with those orange pants?"
"yeah but i need to try it on first..."
Now, let me interject my own conversation and describe my mother's attire (which is not unlike her)... Bra, Tank Top, Button Up Cardigan and a scarf. oh and pants. Now on my way out of this interjection, I'll leave you with, she was not wearing one of those items.
It seems as if the world turned to slow motion as I turned my head back to see if the shirt she had picked out in fact did fit her. However, as she lifted her cardigan sweater up in the middle of the aisle of the very busy, very lit Target I realized she wasn't actually wearing her tank top that she had been so confident in. I tried to call out to her..
(in slow motion voice) "Moooom. Nooooo!"
"whaaaat?"(in really high pitched voice) "MOM! YOU'RE NAKED!"
Her arms crossed all the way above her head, with a handful of sweater in each fist as if she was holding onto that blue friggin diamind when the Titanic was sinking, and the rest of the cardigan sitting at her elbows, while her breasticles and belly were feeling out the room's temperature is when her reaction began. It was similar to that of when you're getting undressed in the bathroom to take your shower and someone walks in...you're not sure which part to cover first so your body goes into a tourettes like defense trying to cover all your goodies at once. Well imagine my petite little mother, trying to cover ONE part of her body with her hands in a knitted vice, stuck above her head as if she was waving to onlookers "NUDITY, AISLE FIVE!" Victoria's secret and my worst nightmare was on the table... my mom and her bits all out for the discount shoppers to see. I'm just glad she wasn't wearing a mistletoe necklace or shit could've gotten real weird, real fast.
I tried very hard to shield her from prying eyes but the laugh that erupted from me was more of a call of attention than a plee for avoidance. At this point, she's bent over with her shirt still over her head because she can't get her arms down, so I did what any daughter would... I grabbed her by the back of the neck into a submission type hold and without letting her lose conciousness I pulled her shirt down. Felt like I was in a hockey fight, all I needed to do was punch her but in this instance there was no need for violence.
I'm just glad stores dont let you try on thongs, who knows what would've happened next.
God Bless America.
10.11.2012
I Lick Brick
As if my day to day life wasn't complicated or full of public bafoonery enough, I walked in public and tried to be professional.... tried.
So my short term relationship with my part time job ended abruptly when I, forgot to go to work. Understandably, but that job was like having a girlfriend that was always on her period... looked good on paper but what's the point?? As a result I've begun to look for other jobs. So, I took to the streets.
I was dressed in black militial style knee high boots, black leggings with the slightest shimmer and a black dress. No, I'm not in mourning but I do like to look skinny... and those were all the things I found on my floor this morning while I was getting out of bed.. VOILA, outfit practically chose itself.
I was feeling confident about my appearance and my matching jacket and purse so I drove into the city feeling like this could be my day, I'm gonna carpe the shit out of some diem. There was an event I guess because every single place I looked to park laughed at me. not out loud, but I could feel those meters judging me. It did seem however that every open space I actually found, also had another driver vying for the spot and I would almost get my car's ass kicked to get into it. After driving through the city I decided to park on the water and just make the trek by foot.. like a road warrior.
I took my cute boots and my sweet ass up to the street with the places I was interested in obtaining employment...with no troubles.. easy peezy baby. I should have known as the crisp air breezed through my long hair and the touch of winter pressed on my lips that my painless, easy trip was soon to be ruined by the ever failing feet I call my own.
I dont know if any of my fellow city street walkers are aware but the sidewalks of Portland are a deadly game of slip and slide by the Devil's hand. I took such a fall you could call me "Season" and I am quite literally, surprised I didn't break the ground with my schnoz. It might not have been so bad if I couldn't add the fact that my beloved leggings had fallen half way down my ass to the list of things that had suddenly gone drastically wrong. Luckily, the way my purse came flying onto my face prevented the traffic jammed street from seeing my pain as I yelped out like a Terrier would if it had tried to outrun it's leash.
As quickly as I had fallen, I picked myself up. I made sure my applications were still in my purse and not spread on the sidewalk with my dignity. When I'd determined all was well and that I didnt recognize any of the eyes watching me, I darted for my car. Now I sit wrapped in a fleece blanket because I can still feel the chill of the red brick on my neck... I fear I shall never recover.
I wonder if I should put "resilient bottom pillows" and "can take a blow to my face" to my list of qualifications for the job...
I'm just trying to get a big tip.
So my short term relationship with my part time job ended abruptly when I, forgot to go to work. Understandably, but that job was like having a girlfriend that was always on her period... looked good on paper but what's the point?? As a result I've begun to look for other jobs. So, I took to the streets.
I was dressed in black militial style knee high boots, black leggings with the slightest shimmer and a black dress. No, I'm not in mourning but I do like to look skinny... and those were all the things I found on my floor this morning while I was getting out of bed.. VOILA, outfit practically chose itself.
I was feeling confident about my appearance and my matching jacket and purse so I drove into the city feeling like this could be my day, I'm gonna carpe the shit out of some diem. There was an event I guess because every single place I looked to park laughed at me. not out loud, but I could feel those meters judging me. It did seem however that every open space I actually found, also had another driver vying for the spot and I would almost get my car's ass kicked to get into it. After driving through the city I decided to park on the water and just make the trek by foot.. like a road warrior.
I took my cute boots and my sweet ass up to the street with the places I was interested in obtaining employment...with no troubles.. easy peezy baby. I should have known as the crisp air breezed through my long hair and the touch of winter pressed on my lips that my painless, easy trip was soon to be ruined by the ever failing feet I call my own.
I dont know if any of my fellow city street walkers are aware but the sidewalks of Portland are a deadly game of slip and slide by the Devil's hand. I took such a fall you could call me "Season" and I am quite literally, surprised I didn't break the ground with my schnoz. It might not have been so bad if I couldn't add the fact that my beloved leggings had fallen half way down my ass to the list of things that had suddenly gone drastically wrong. Luckily, the way my purse came flying onto my face prevented the traffic jammed street from seeing my pain as I yelped out like a Terrier would if it had tried to outrun it's leash.
As quickly as I had fallen, I picked myself up. I made sure my applications were still in my purse and not spread on the sidewalk with my dignity. When I'd determined all was well and that I didnt recognize any of the eyes watching me, I darted for my car. Now I sit wrapped in a fleece blanket because I can still feel the chill of the red brick on my neck... I fear I shall never recover.
I wonder if I should put "resilient bottom pillows" and "can take a blow to my face" to my list of qualifications for the job...
I'm just trying to get a big tip.
9.25.2012
If You Liked It.. then now you probably wont put a ring on it.
In the beginning, Eve should have hung Adam from that friggin tree then pelted him with that forsaken apple... CRISP THAT!
Sometimes I wish I was married.. sometimes I wake up and wish I had someone who knew to hit the snooze for me at leats once or that first alarm was actually a "you get out of bed first, and by the time i decide to move... bacon better be ready" warning. Sometimes I wish at lunch time I could go to my car and there'd be a note that said my favorite dinner would be waiting for me and that I could pick the shows on tv for the night...
Other times.. like tonight, I'd like to be married so when I get home from a day like today I can creep up the stairs of our home and oh so gently open the bedroom door where my husband sleeps peacefully and in a way that only I can (his one true love, his darling princess) RIP THE COVERS OFF AND UNLEASH THE RAGE THAT IS MY JOB'S WORK. It'd be nice to come home and yell at someone totally undeserving but has to take it. Don't act like you dont do it wives, and husbands let's not pretend your any more innocent but women are built to be a little crazier than thou.
How WONDERFUL would it be to NOT keep your tongue quiet but really just let it all out and get all the nasty thoughts about your boss (that self righteous man child who is obviously so miserable with his own life he has no qualms with sucking the life out of others) and give it to the one person who said they'd love you for better, or worse. Well honey.. shit just got worse. Hold on steady, this angry cowgirl is ready to ride the bull.
I have the hardest time keeping my thoughts to myself as it is but when its my boss' slightly pigged nose jabbing up my beautiful ass for the entirety of my work obligation and i can't say anything about it.. oh. i'm nuts. i'm going nuts.
All I wanted was to either ream Boss a new one or go home to yell at someone but alas, that's not an option. I would feel guilty in an instant.. I'd probably not even yell.. I'd just cry. But I knwo it'd piss me off to see my other half having sweet dreams, while this half felt like I was walking on the other side of a tripped out Ozzy Osbourne fetish, so I'd at least have to wake him up somehow. Maybe clear my throat or "forget" and turn the lights on.. get real passive aggressive on him. Oh yeah baby, real passive.
I was hoping to feel some relief but now I'm just pissed off that the website isn't agreeing with me and I feel judged.
I think tonight I am goign to refer to my previous thoughts on dream punching people and I'm going straight Balboa on Boss' ass...
Sometimes I wish I was married.. sometimes I wake up and wish I had someone who knew to hit the snooze for me at leats once or that first alarm was actually a "you get out of bed first, and by the time i decide to move... bacon better be ready" warning. Sometimes I wish at lunch time I could go to my car and there'd be a note that said my favorite dinner would be waiting for me and that I could pick the shows on tv for the night...
Other times.. like tonight, I'd like to be married so when I get home from a day like today I can creep up the stairs of our home and oh so gently open the bedroom door where my husband sleeps peacefully and in a way that only I can (his one true love, his darling princess) RIP THE COVERS OFF AND UNLEASH THE RAGE THAT IS MY JOB'S WORK. It'd be nice to come home and yell at someone totally undeserving but has to take it. Don't act like you dont do it wives, and husbands let's not pretend your any more innocent but women are built to be a little crazier than thou.
How WONDERFUL would it be to NOT keep your tongue quiet but really just let it all out and get all the nasty thoughts about your boss (that self righteous man child who is obviously so miserable with his own life he has no qualms with sucking the life out of others) and give it to the one person who said they'd love you for better, or worse. Well honey.. shit just got worse. Hold on steady, this angry cowgirl is ready to ride the bull.
I have the hardest time keeping my thoughts to myself as it is but when its my boss' slightly pigged nose jabbing up my beautiful ass for the entirety of my work obligation and i can't say anything about it.. oh. i'm nuts. i'm going nuts.
All I wanted was to either ream Boss a new one or go home to yell at someone but alas, that's not an option. I would feel guilty in an instant.. I'd probably not even yell.. I'd just cry. But I knwo it'd piss me off to see my other half having sweet dreams, while this half felt like I was walking on the other side of a tripped out Ozzy Osbourne fetish, so I'd at least have to wake him up somehow. Maybe clear my throat or "forget" and turn the lights on.. get real passive aggressive on him. Oh yeah baby, real passive.
I was hoping to feel some relief but now I'm just pissed off that the website isn't agreeing with me and I feel judged.
I think tonight I am goign to refer to my previous thoughts on dream punching people and I'm going straight Balboa on Boss' ass...
9.13.2012
Two Birds in the Bush..is safer than one Raven with mace.
It's a beautiful thing when two friends can reconnect, chat and share a love or distaste for the same things. It's an even more beautiful thing to see, when one of those friends goes blind by the hands of the other.
I've seen alot of things this week (with both eyes) including a woman at my office washing her baby boy with a "dewty dewty wittle diwaper" in the bathroom sink, like we don't have a hose outside. I've seen a couple homeless people getting a fight, and one crazy man yelling at himself while on my way to make a deposit (into a bank you sicko). Never, did I see tonight coming. In addition to not seeing it coming, I can't see it now that it's gone.
I came home from work and made some pretty bad.ass.pork.chops. I didn't even mean to, actually. Truthfully, I'd taken the chops out to eat for a late dinner but ended up being too lazy so I threw them in a bag and put them in my fridge-- three days later I remembered it and tonight, I risked poisoning by ingesting it so the best of my stomach's abilities. After I finished dinner, I settled onto the couch with my crossword puzzle and phone in hand.
I texted a couple of my peeps to say hello and found myself making "let's have a glass of wine" plans with a pretty little birdy friend we shall call "the Crow". She caw'd on over and before she even got here I had two glasses balls deep in Delicious Red boxed wine- y'know.. the classy stuff. It felt good to catch up and listen to the stories of things we'd missed in each other's lives for the past month. It especially feels amazing to be able to pick up right where you left off with someone and that's how you know you've made a real friend. However, I've learned after tonight to err on the side of caution with errbody.
This little lady has recently moved to a part of town referred to as "effin, scary" and has since bought some pepperspray in order to assist in keeping her safe from car to home, in the dark. It sounds like a great idea, but I'm from the woods. I don't know about mace, or weaponry really-- we fight with words and our fists. Nothing else. However, in a city full of different people, different struggles and different motives you have to be ready to attack like Oprah Winfrey would a cupcake. Battle time.
Being as naive as I am, I asked to see the aerosol can that holds hell in it.. I've never seen such a thing. So she obliged. She allowed me to play with it and check it out. This is how that conversation went....
"So this is pepperspray? that's a small bottle!"
"yeah but if it sprays you right in the face it really kicks your ass""have you used it before??" (I asked like the Curious George I am)
"no.. i've never used anything like this.. i denno, i just have it in case..."""well, how do you know that it works?"
"well...i denno. just gonna spray it..."THIS is the point. where bad decision making came into play. First, we just sprayed it real quick to see what it smelled like, because we were curious... when that didn't satisfy our thirst for knowledge Crow asked me if she could spray my wrist (y'know, checking for physical pain on skin; etc) and I agreed. Took a straight shot to the wrist-- nothing. So we both stared at the brownish liquid running down my arm and I said "I don't think it's working, maybe I should try putting it on my eye" that would've been the perfect time for her to say (without smiling) "No Nichole, that's a bad idea... DON'T" but instead she said "hehe.. oohh. hehehehe. i denno if that's a good idea" all the while staring me dead in my eyes as if to say "effin righhhtttt, do it!!!!" SO. Being the protective and cautious friend I am.. I put my left forefinger on my wrist and ever so gently, dabbled my finger tip in the juice on my wrist and lifted it to my eye and pressed down on the corner. nothing. not a damn thing happened. WHAT?! that's crazy-- it doesnt make any sense. So I began to think this was crap mace and she got jipped on her costs, so I exclaim "I can't feel anything, prolly not working..." and hate to say it now, but she kinda looked disappointed too. So, I put my forefinger back to my wrist and took a little more juice and raised it back to my eye... but this time... I went like pocket Aces on a run... all in.
I can say whole hearted it felt like I was trying to birth a fiery devil from my left pupil. My entire body temperature rose a good ten degrees and my eye immediately shut down, like a bank on Christmas. Boom. vaulted. not going anywhere. I ran to the bathroom to flush it out, only problem with that is the fact I'm putting water in the two hands I have covered in pepperspray. So.. no flushing, only blinding.
My eye dilated and turned the craziest color green- I think my eyes turn green when I cry anyway but apparently they turn teal when they've been tased with liquid poison. My nose is running, I'm choking on the taste and my eye is quivering like our parents did when Madonna's "Like A Virgin" video aired for the first time. It's excruciating.
I finally flushed it out and as I'm standing over my kitchen sink trying to regain sight and balance she claims ever so innocently "i hate to do this, but I have to go..." If I hadn't hurt a man say that every time things got uncomfortable or I had tears falling from one or both of my eyes I'd say I was surprised- but alas, I am not. Crow left me and I've been sitting on my couch holding the swelling back with a wet paper towel and applying the pressure of overwhelming shame to it.
I think it's working... even my ego's deflated.
I've seen alot of things this week (with both eyes) including a woman at my office washing her baby boy with a "dewty dewty wittle diwaper" in the bathroom sink, like we don't have a hose outside. I've seen a couple homeless people getting a fight, and one crazy man yelling at himself while on my way to make a deposit (into a bank you sicko). Never, did I see tonight coming. In addition to not seeing it coming, I can't see it now that it's gone.
I came home from work and made some pretty bad.ass.pork.chops. I didn't even mean to, actually. Truthfully, I'd taken the chops out to eat for a late dinner but ended up being too lazy so I threw them in a bag and put them in my fridge-- three days later I remembered it and tonight, I risked poisoning by ingesting it so the best of my stomach's abilities. After I finished dinner, I settled onto the couch with my crossword puzzle and phone in hand.
I texted a couple of my peeps to say hello and found myself making "let's have a glass of wine" plans with a pretty little birdy friend we shall call "the Crow". She caw'd on over and before she even got here I had two glasses balls deep in Delicious Red boxed wine- y'know.. the classy stuff. It felt good to catch up and listen to the stories of things we'd missed in each other's lives for the past month. It especially feels amazing to be able to pick up right where you left off with someone and that's how you know you've made a real friend. However, I've learned after tonight to err on the side of caution with errbody.
This little lady has recently moved to a part of town referred to as "effin, scary" and has since bought some pepperspray in order to assist in keeping her safe from car to home, in the dark. It sounds like a great idea, but I'm from the woods. I don't know about mace, or weaponry really-- we fight with words and our fists. Nothing else. However, in a city full of different people, different struggles and different motives you have to be ready to attack like Oprah Winfrey would a cupcake. Battle time.
Being as naive as I am, I asked to see the aerosol can that holds hell in it.. I've never seen such a thing. So she obliged. She allowed me to play with it and check it out. This is how that conversation went....
"So this is pepperspray? that's a small bottle!"
"yeah but if it sprays you right in the face it really kicks your ass""have you used it before??" (I asked like the Curious George I am)
"no.. i've never used anything like this.. i denno, i just have it in case..."""well, how do you know that it works?"
"well...i denno. just gonna spray it..."THIS is the point. where bad decision making came into play. First, we just sprayed it real quick to see what it smelled like, because we were curious... when that didn't satisfy our thirst for knowledge Crow asked me if she could spray my wrist (y'know, checking for physical pain on skin; etc) and I agreed. Took a straight shot to the wrist-- nothing. So we both stared at the brownish liquid running down my arm and I said "I don't think it's working, maybe I should try putting it on my eye" that would've been the perfect time for her to say (without smiling) "No Nichole, that's a bad idea... DON'T" but instead she said "hehe.. oohh. hehehehe. i denno if that's a good idea" all the while staring me dead in my eyes as if to say "effin righhhtttt, do it!!!!" SO. Being the protective and cautious friend I am.. I put my left forefinger on my wrist and ever so gently, dabbled my finger tip in the juice on my wrist and lifted it to my eye and pressed down on the corner. nothing. not a damn thing happened. WHAT?! that's crazy-- it doesnt make any sense. So I began to think this was crap mace and she got jipped on her costs, so I exclaim "I can't feel anything, prolly not working..." and hate to say it now, but she kinda looked disappointed too. So, I put my forefinger back to my wrist and took a little more juice and raised it back to my eye... but this time... I went like pocket Aces on a run... all in.
I can say whole hearted it felt like I was trying to birth a fiery devil from my left pupil. My entire body temperature rose a good ten degrees and my eye immediately shut down, like a bank on Christmas. Boom. vaulted. not going anywhere. I ran to the bathroom to flush it out, only problem with that is the fact I'm putting water in the two hands I have covered in pepperspray. So.. no flushing, only blinding.
My eye dilated and turned the craziest color green- I think my eyes turn green when I cry anyway but apparently they turn teal when they've been tased with liquid poison. My nose is running, I'm choking on the taste and my eye is quivering like our parents did when Madonna's "Like A Virgin" video aired for the first time. It's excruciating.
I finally flushed it out and as I'm standing over my kitchen sink trying to regain sight and balance she claims ever so innocently "i hate to do this, but I have to go..." If I hadn't hurt a man say that every time things got uncomfortable or I had tears falling from one or both of my eyes I'd say I was surprised- but alas, I am not. Crow left me and I've been sitting on my couch holding the swelling back with a wet paper towel and applying the pressure of overwhelming shame to it.
I think it's working... even my ego's deflated.
9.11.2012
African-I touch your butt?
You know you had a good night, when your throw up smells like Thanksgiving.
So. If you took all my favorite things and put them together it'd look alot like the booze cruise I attended, except DMX would be there and two UFC boys would be greased up and fighting over me. Since I can't have everything, this African Reggae/Hip Hop/Caucasianless Cruise I was on will suffice.
I'd been anxiously awaiting the arrival of a boat that would carry me around the harbor for three hours while I ingested copious amonts of any cheap draught beer they had readily available. Luckily, my two sidekicks Kitty and Sinny were available to partake in the horrible decision making I was already committed to.
We started around 3 o'clock, over at Kitty's Dad's house because for once we practiced safe and responsible behavior and got ourselves a designated driver. Sinny joined in and we all took part in guzzling Shipyard's Pumpkinheads till our skin started to resemble foliage. I just want to add how important Pumpkinhead is to welcoming fall, it's like the McRib of beers and I can't think of anything else I'd rather drink my Absolut Vanilla with. But I digress.. After Pumpkinhead was done we started the long journey toward's Allen's town. Where is that, you ask? It's in Coffe Brandy ville and it is seriously under populated. With the smell of liquid panty remover and butterflies in the air, we headed to the docks.
It was a "Blue and White" party to celebrate labor day, so naturally Kitty and I wore stunna shades and leapord print. Sinny looking fresh to not so death as always, just wore 80's sunnies and a blue button up. This is important because we've all never looked to "White" In our lives. You couldn't have made us any more cracker than we were walking into this boat.
I'd bought the tickets thinking we'd enjoy the music because it's hip hop, reggae and over all - music I love to dance to and sing along to. What I did not expect was that we would be the only girls there wearing pants and that we would be the only ones fully aware of our Caucasianness.
At first, Kitty and I were the only ones dancing, we may as well have put a target on our backs for attention because we seriously couldn't have stood out any more. However, after about 5 Coors Lights and after making friends with a ladies named Lucretia, Lucinda and La'Vaughn in the bathroom we started to blend it.. they took us in under their wings, if you will. Then the lights went out.. and all of a sudden my VH1 ass was in the middle of a BET Jungle. Never fear, because my ass was here. When in doubt, shake that thing like you're the next Beyonce and it creates a shield. Nobody can touch you. So I shimmy shimmy shake shook myself out of the abyss of the dance floor and exited to the front of the boat.
I'm not exactly sure how this next part of my evening even began but I explicitly recall singing "Wade In the Water" and ending it with "Say Praise to Jesus" then a lady touched my forehead and I threw myself to the deck. I dont know when I became a preacher but I delivered some pretty powerful messages. Including "Oh man, I'm gonna be sick" I was the vomitting Moses the way I got that crowd of people to part.
Finally, the boat ride ended and we headed into town. Next stop was a karaoke bar where I found it absolutely imperative that I channel Janis Joplin and got my Bobby McGee on and Meatloaf. Let me tell you, after that rendition there really wasn't any paradise by the dashboard lights.
Then we headed to a dancey place. All I'm going to say is I really truly thought I was like those hot girls in the music videos that 'get the guy' at the end. I'm dancing with this man and we're grooving along and having so much fun when I realize "hey i think he's pretty hot" and looked him directly in the eyes, locked in and said "ohhhh YEAHHHH" and plant one right on his face. NOPE! Not a good idea!!! Meanwhile, Kitty and Sinny are having a the time of their lives in the corner, I'm slowly ruining my own life one locked lip at a time.
I came to my senses and realized "oh snap, bad idea" and effectively ran off the dance floor into the shadows, in hopes of erasing that moment from my life (yet here I am solidifying that will never happen).
Now I can't even tell you how the night went after I ran into the darkness, but I can say I woke up on my own couch, with a stuffed animal and my underwear on backwards.
So. If you took all my favorite things and put them together it'd look alot like the booze cruise I attended, except DMX would be there and two UFC boys would be greased up and fighting over me. Since I can't have everything, this African Reggae/Hip Hop/Caucasianless Cruise I was on will suffice.
I'd been anxiously awaiting the arrival of a boat that would carry me around the harbor for three hours while I ingested copious amonts of any cheap draught beer they had readily available. Luckily, my two sidekicks Kitty and Sinny were available to partake in the horrible decision making I was already committed to.
We started around 3 o'clock, over at Kitty's Dad's house because for once we practiced safe and responsible behavior and got ourselves a designated driver. Sinny joined in and we all took part in guzzling Shipyard's Pumpkinheads till our skin started to resemble foliage. I just want to add how important Pumpkinhead is to welcoming fall, it's like the McRib of beers and I can't think of anything else I'd rather drink my Absolut Vanilla with. But I digress.. After Pumpkinhead was done we started the long journey toward's Allen's town. Where is that, you ask? It's in Coffe Brandy ville and it is seriously under populated. With the smell of liquid panty remover and butterflies in the air, we headed to the docks.
It was a "Blue and White" party to celebrate labor day, so naturally Kitty and I wore stunna shades and leapord print. Sinny looking fresh to not so death as always, just wore 80's sunnies and a blue button up. This is important because we've all never looked to "White" In our lives. You couldn't have made us any more cracker than we were walking into this boat.
I'd bought the tickets thinking we'd enjoy the music because it's hip hop, reggae and over all - music I love to dance to and sing along to. What I did not expect was that we would be the only girls there wearing pants and that we would be the only ones fully aware of our Caucasianness.
At first, Kitty and I were the only ones dancing, we may as well have put a target on our backs for attention because we seriously couldn't have stood out any more. However, after about 5 Coors Lights and after making friends with a ladies named Lucretia, Lucinda and La'Vaughn in the bathroom we started to blend it.. they took us in under their wings, if you will. Then the lights went out.. and all of a sudden my VH1 ass was in the middle of a BET Jungle. Never fear, because my ass was here. When in doubt, shake that thing like you're the next Beyonce and it creates a shield. Nobody can touch you. So I shimmy shimmy shake shook myself out of the abyss of the dance floor and exited to the front of the boat.
I'm not exactly sure how this next part of my evening even began but I explicitly recall singing "Wade In the Water" and ending it with "Say Praise to Jesus" then a lady touched my forehead and I threw myself to the deck. I dont know when I became a preacher but I delivered some pretty powerful messages. Including "Oh man, I'm gonna be sick" I was the vomitting Moses the way I got that crowd of people to part.
Finally, the boat ride ended and we headed into town. Next stop was a karaoke bar where I found it absolutely imperative that I channel Janis Joplin and got my Bobby McGee on and Meatloaf. Let me tell you, after that rendition there really wasn't any paradise by the dashboard lights.
Then we headed to a dancey place. All I'm going to say is I really truly thought I was like those hot girls in the music videos that 'get the guy' at the end. I'm dancing with this man and we're grooving along and having so much fun when I realize "hey i think he's pretty hot" and looked him directly in the eyes, locked in and said "ohhhh YEAHHHH" and plant one right on his face. NOPE! Not a good idea!!! Meanwhile, Kitty and Sinny are having a the time of their lives in the corner, I'm slowly ruining my own life one locked lip at a time.
I came to my senses and realized "oh snap, bad idea" and effectively ran off the dance floor into the shadows, in hopes of erasing that moment from my life (yet here I am solidifying that will never happen).
Now I can't even tell you how the night went after I ran into the darkness, but I can say I woke up on my own couch, with a stuffed animal and my underwear on backwards.
8.02.2012
Another Day, Another Pusser.
If you've never been attacked by a stripper you have not lived.
The day was Saturday and it began like any other. I opened my eyes, took a deep breath and said in my best Pat Benetar voice "hit me with your best shot...." Little did I know this Saturday was going to round house kick me with a pointed stilleto right in my face.
I worked a double that day so towards the end of my shift and beginning of my night I was feeling amped, ready to go and had gotten my energy levels at a peak "party level". Anyone familiar with the act of binge drinking knows this entails a slight butterfly feeling, a little hop in your step and a little wiggle-in-your-tiggle, if you will. So I called the boys up and headed over to my favoritest world traveler's abode where he had his own visitor from Australia. They'd met overseas and this was the Aussie's first trip to Maine.. obbbbviously this means we had to show him a good time.
To begin the night the traveling man friend asked me if I'd like a painkiller. After replying "hugs not drugs" I realized he meant a mixed drink to which I quickly retracted my answer and said "hell to the yes". The main ingredient of this drink however was "PUSSER'S" and if I'd known at that moment this name was going to be the precursor to the most awkward thirty seconds of my existence I might've opted for a Heineken and not a stripper's Heiney.. kin.
The affects of said Pusser's was comporable to the movie "The Hangover". After those little bevvie's we headed into town where we hit every bar, every beer and hit on every person that walked by. We danced in the streets and had almost every DJ play a DMX song (naturally) before leaving the establishment. Then the clock struck one and this Cinderella didn't turn back into a lonely step daughter.. I straight up turned into one of the rats... a strip joint rat. Now, contrary to popular belief I do get uncomfortable and it's not just by children or people with ugly cry faces. It's also by strippers.
We walked into the establishment after a lovely Cabbie offered to take me home.. but not to my house. Fortunately, because of my anatomy I was able to enter the doors to my hell on earth for free... At first it wasn't that bad I was taking in the scenery and trying to get comfortable although it's very hard to ignore the smell of testosterone, desperation and stale booze wafting through the legs of the undoubtedly cracked out naked lady sliding down a pole, which I'd say is the Table of Elements version of Herpes. But I digress...
We find a spot in the back with three chairs. I take the one in the middle, with an Aussie on one side and a tan tan banjo man on the other. We're watching closely as the animal of a lady on stage twisted, turned and gyrated ever so not smoothly and eloquently when she spotted me. It was like something in her radar went off.. like she was wearing an ear piece and a man in a booth we can't spot smelled my naivety and sent her to prey on me.
She was dangling effortlessly when I looked up and ours eyes met. She then pointed her finger at me and said "ohhh you're not smiling!" To which I immediately responded by yelling "ohhhh me? nooo! I'm having a great time, keep working your thing please... please" but it was too late. She'd already put herself on cruise control for my lap.... I sat nervously as I watched her quickly shimmy down and crawl towards me. I was paralyzed with fear. She was like the creature from "The Grudge" only she was almost naked and the Grudge was pretty.. She extended her arms to reach for my legs. I dont know how she got my ankles because my feet were planted firmly on the ground but she had quite the grip. She grabbed each one of my ankle and began to pull me forward with a brute strength. I tried to fight her off but when I kicked back my leg hit something sharp and my initial reaction was to grab where it hurt. which only gave her more of my body to hold onto. She then put one arm on either side of me, put her face so close to mine and whispered "don't fight it"
Before I could tell her I was going to throw up if she touched me she dropped her head between my knees and threw hers up towards my ears. I don't know if the scream I let escape my body was that of fear, shock or disgust but it was loud and it was piercing. I pulled a muscle trying to pull my face back and threw my hands back as if I was doing a backstroke. I can tell you now if I had been in water, the Olympic team would've had NOTHING on me. She flipped herself back like an old magazine page and crawled back to her spot on the pole as everyone in the surrounding area clapped (probably had the clap) and hollered out to me. It was at that moment I googled "how to disinfect your entire body at once" and looked for a place to die.
I wish I behaved like the girl my mother tried to raise.
The day was Saturday and it began like any other. I opened my eyes, took a deep breath and said in my best Pat Benetar voice "hit me with your best shot...." Little did I know this Saturday was going to round house kick me with a pointed stilleto right in my face.
I worked a double that day so towards the end of my shift and beginning of my night I was feeling amped, ready to go and had gotten my energy levels at a peak "party level". Anyone familiar with the act of binge drinking knows this entails a slight butterfly feeling, a little hop in your step and a little wiggle-in-your-tiggle, if you will. So I called the boys up and headed over to my favoritest world traveler's abode where he had his own visitor from Australia. They'd met overseas and this was the Aussie's first trip to Maine.. obbbbviously this means we had to show him a good time.
To begin the night the traveling man friend asked me if I'd like a painkiller. After replying "hugs not drugs" I realized he meant a mixed drink to which I quickly retracted my answer and said "hell to the yes". The main ingredient of this drink however was "PUSSER'S" and if I'd known at that moment this name was going to be the precursor to the most awkward thirty seconds of my existence I might've opted for a Heineken and not a stripper's Heiney.. kin.
The affects of said Pusser's was comporable to the movie "The Hangover". After those little bevvie's we headed into town where we hit every bar, every beer and hit on every person that walked by. We danced in the streets and had almost every DJ play a DMX song (naturally) before leaving the establishment. Then the clock struck one and this Cinderella didn't turn back into a lonely step daughter.. I straight up turned into one of the rats... a strip joint rat. Now, contrary to popular belief I do get uncomfortable and it's not just by children or people with ugly cry faces. It's also by strippers.
We walked into the establishment after a lovely Cabbie offered to take me home.. but not to my house. Fortunately, because of my anatomy I was able to enter the doors to my hell on earth for free... At first it wasn't that bad I was taking in the scenery and trying to get comfortable although it's very hard to ignore the smell of testosterone, desperation and stale booze wafting through the legs of the undoubtedly cracked out naked lady sliding down a pole, which I'd say is the Table of Elements version of Herpes. But I digress...
We find a spot in the back with three chairs. I take the one in the middle, with an Aussie on one side and a tan tan banjo man on the other. We're watching closely as the animal of a lady on stage twisted, turned and gyrated ever so not smoothly and eloquently when she spotted me. It was like something in her radar went off.. like she was wearing an ear piece and a man in a booth we can't spot smelled my naivety and sent her to prey on me.
She was dangling effortlessly when I looked up and ours eyes met. She then pointed her finger at me and said "ohhh you're not smiling!" To which I immediately responded by yelling "ohhhh me? nooo! I'm having a great time, keep working your thing please... please" but it was too late. She'd already put herself on cruise control for my lap.... I sat nervously as I watched her quickly shimmy down and crawl towards me. I was paralyzed with fear. She was like the creature from "The Grudge" only she was almost naked and the Grudge was pretty.. She extended her arms to reach for my legs. I dont know how she got my ankles because my feet were planted firmly on the ground but she had quite the grip. She grabbed each one of my ankle and began to pull me forward with a brute strength. I tried to fight her off but when I kicked back my leg hit something sharp and my initial reaction was to grab where it hurt. which only gave her more of my body to hold onto. She then put one arm on either side of me, put her face so close to mine and whispered "don't fight it"
Before I could tell her I was going to throw up if she touched me she dropped her head between my knees and threw hers up towards my ears. I don't know if the scream I let escape my body was that of fear, shock or disgust but it was loud and it was piercing. I pulled a muscle trying to pull my face back and threw my hands back as if I was doing a backstroke. I can tell you now if I had been in water, the Olympic team would've had NOTHING on me. She flipped herself back like an old magazine page and crawled back to her spot on the pole as everyone in the surrounding area clapped (probably had the clap) and hollered out to me. It was at that moment I googled "how to disinfect your entire body at once" and looked for a place to die.
I wish I behaved like the girl my mother tried to raise.
7.17.2012
Lesbians. Strippers and a sneaky Black Berry.
when life hands you lemons, make sure it's really fruit and not balls hitting you in the face.
Whewwww it's been a while since I've been able to sit down and have a minute to keep you all posted on the happenings of my crazy life. it's almost been so crazy I haven't been able to put it all into one entry.. the last week or two may take a couple but i'll do my best to keep you in the lizzoop.
I've been working pretty diligently with Friend on her wedding. Which I'd just like to share was a lesbian wedding, on Friday the 13th, a week after a full moon, in a leap year... this girl is tryin to send me to hell in a beautifully knit handbasket. That being said I had the most fabulous time, even though I didn't get to wear a feather boa and nobody played "it's raining men".
The ceremony was like any other and it was nothing less than spectacular. it was beautiful, i cried like a baby the entire time. I met a very good lookin man who is the biggest goofball ever but i was totally into it. we danced all night and i shared some of my best dance moves with him.. then a very upbeat song (cant remember now because i went into "the zone") and I got into a very serious, painful at times, dance off with a very fabulous, flamboyant man. If he wasn't a spunky little nugget I don't know who is. That boy had me shaking it like I was on fire and he was willing to put me out. At one point he even laid me on the ground and shimmied over me but stopped ever so NOT gracefully on my face.. Easy cowgirl, we play for the same team! I tried to get up and get out but I just ended up slapping my entire face into his boy parts. I wasn't too embarrassed because people would forget about it.. until I was informed the videographer got the entire thing on camera. Then it was off to the gay bars-- BEST PLACE ON EARTH. I could not get enough, I never wanted it to end.. I was dancing like a diva and nobody said a word, I didnt get looked at weird and boys were complimenting my dress-- and meant it.
The next day I had to go to work so I shimmied out of my hotel room bright and early to bring the hotel roomies back to their vehicles, good timing because one was getting towed. Luckily he was able to get out of it because I was leavin him there, i could not be late for work.... even though I was anyways.
That night I decided I'd go out with with a friend I don't get to see nearly enough for a quiet night. Boys oh boys, was I wrong. Not only did one beer turn into, one beer every half hour but while we were sitting enjoying our ice cold beverages a blond approached us. She said hello, checked us out like she was reading our minds.. ordered three shots of Stoli Orange and laid them in front of us. As we took the shots (we didn't wanna be rude, now) she grabbed both my boobs, put her finger in my cleav and said "hmmmm". Now i'm not sure what that means for most people but it immediately became my facebook status. She went on and on about her past lovers (who just so happen to be our friends) so immediately I started texting each one of them statements of disappointment in their choices of sexual relations. She then asked about her weight, if we thought she was fat.. blah blah blah. She's a friggin stripper. she's not a fatty she's got some stuff goin on but she just wanted my friend to see her as nude as possible. She then asked if he'd like to put his D in her V. After barely being able to swallow THAT big nasty pill, I decided it was time to go. As we got up to leave she looked at us like a bewildered puppy would look at a little girl putting him down to follow her parents out of the pet store.. and asked if she could come with us. My friends man parts replied "yeah sure" so she followed. We quickly walked to another bar, I tried to stay a good stride or two ahead of them because she was super not interested in me being around anyways. we get to the next bar and she asks the bartender if he wants to play paper rock scissors. If she wins, she gets ketel one on the house.. if he wins "you get to $*#& me" WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS SACRED?! Then she turns to me "you really dont like me do you" I dont know what she was expecting but all I could reply was "At first, I didnt really mind.. now you make me really uncomfortable. so no. i'd say we weren't friends" but she didnt leave. I told her I was going outside on the porch for fresh air and my friend went to pee.. she said she'd meet me out there. It was in this moment I calculated a good 30 seconds I'd have to get away from her.. so I ran. my friend followed and we left her sitting in the bar alone.
call me a jerk if you want to. but i have a feeling she's not a stranger to that kind of instance. So we're walking back up a different street in hopes she never sees us again when I see a very familiar, yet very unexpected face in the crowd. He was down visiting from his homeland of Canadaland and he joined us in our adventures. After bar hopping, bachelorette party crashing and random conversations later we found ourselves at another establishment with an abundace of what seemed like single ladies. So I scoped some out and sent the boy on his way to meet girls. While I was sitting in the background waiting to hear how each conversation turned out I hear a loud bang at the window... stripper. she'd found us.. now she was gonna kill us.. I'm sure of it. She did the finger wave.. which is like jazz hands but sad and scary. So as she walked in the bar, I screamed "MAY DAY!! ABORT MISSION" to the boners with legs and ran again. She didn't seem to follow us this time, I think she got the hint that she made us all very uncomfortable. After wandering around for a bit more, It was time to go so we hopped in a cab and went back to our respective sleeping quarters.
I plugged my phone in, set my alarm for work in the morning becuse i knew I'd forget to even go if it didn't go off and put my phone down.. off to comadreamsleepland I went.
I woke up around 11, feeling refreshed and well slept. After all, I'd only gotten a couple hours of sleep in the last couple days and was feeling a bit rundown. The day was quiet, no phone calls, messages or facebook notifications..so naturally I checked to see if my phone was broken. yup. the friggin battery had come out so I missed my alarm, missed my shift, missed every text someone sent to wake me up and missed any chance of making money that day. UGH!!! Luckily, I'm not fired and didn't have to send a fruit basket to make up for it.
If that were the case. I could have just packed the two melons that were dropped on my face earlier that weekend.
Whewwww it's been a while since I've been able to sit down and have a minute to keep you all posted on the happenings of my crazy life. it's almost been so crazy I haven't been able to put it all into one entry.. the last week or two may take a couple but i'll do my best to keep you in the lizzoop.
I've been working pretty diligently with Friend on her wedding. Which I'd just like to share was a lesbian wedding, on Friday the 13th, a week after a full moon, in a leap year... this girl is tryin to send me to hell in a beautifully knit handbasket. That being said I had the most fabulous time, even though I didn't get to wear a feather boa and nobody played "it's raining men".
The ceremony was like any other and it was nothing less than spectacular. it was beautiful, i cried like a baby the entire time. I met a very good lookin man who is the biggest goofball ever but i was totally into it. we danced all night and i shared some of my best dance moves with him.. then a very upbeat song (cant remember now because i went into "the zone") and I got into a very serious, painful at times, dance off with a very fabulous, flamboyant man. If he wasn't a spunky little nugget I don't know who is. That boy had me shaking it like I was on fire and he was willing to put me out. At one point he even laid me on the ground and shimmied over me but stopped ever so NOT gracefully on my face.. Easy cowgirl, we play for the same team! I tried to get up and get out but I just ended up slapping my entire face into his boy parts. I wasn't too embarrassed because people would forget about it.. until I was informed the videographer got the entire thing on camera. Then it was off to the gay bars-- BEST PLACE ON EARTH. I could not get enough, I never wanted it to end.. I was dancing like a diva and nobody said a word, I didnt get looked at weird and boys were complimenting my dress-- and meant it.
The next day I had to go to work so I shimmied out of my hotel room bright and early to bring the hotel roomies back to their vehicles, good timing because one was getting towed. Luckily he was able to get out of it because I was leavin him there, i could not be late for work.... even though I was anyways.
That night I decided I'd go out with with a friend I don't get to see nearly enough for a quiet night. Boys oh boys, was I wrong. Not only did one beer turn into, one beer every half hour but while we were sitting enjoying our ice cold beverages a blond approached us. She said hello, checked us out like she was reading our minds.. ordered three shots of Stoli Orange and laid them in front of us. As we took the shots (we didn't wanna be rude, now) she grabbed both my boobs, put her finger in my cleav and said "hmmmm". Now i'm not sure what that means for most people but it immediately became my facebook status. She went on and on about her past lovers (who just so happen to be our friends) so immediately I started texting each one of them statements of disappointment in their choices of sexual relations. She then asked about her weight, if we thought she was fat.. blah blah blah. She's a friggin stripper. she's not a fatty she's got some stuff goin on but she just wanted my friend to see her as nude as possible. She then asked if he'd like to put his D in her V. After barely being able to swallow THAT big nasty pill, I decided it was time to go. As we got up to leave she looked at us like a bewildered puppy would look at a little girl putting him down to follow her parents out of the pet store.. and asked if she could come with us. My friends man parts replied "yeah sure" so she followed. We quickly walked to another bar, I tried to stay a good stride or two ahead of them because she was super not interested in me being around anyways. we get to the next bar and she asks the bartender if he wants to play paper rock scissors. If she wins, she gets ketel one on the house.. if he wins "you get to $*#& me" WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS SACRED?! Then she turns to me "you really dont like me do you" I dont know what she was expecting but all I could reply was "At first, I didnt really mind.. now you make me really uncomfortable. so no. i'd say we weren't friends" but she didnt leave. I told her I was going outside on the porch for fresh air and my friend went to pee.. she said she'd meet me out there. It was in this moment I calculated a good 30 seconds I'd have to get away from her.. so I ran. my friend followed and we left her sitting in the bar alone.
call me a jerk if you want to. but i have a feeling she's not a stranger to that kind of instance. So we're walking back up a different street in hopes she never sees us again when I see a very familiar, yet very unexpected face in the crowd. He was down visiting from his homeland of Canadaland and he joined us in our adventures. After bar hopping, bachelorette party crashing and random conversations later we found ourselves at another establishment with an abundace of what seemed like single ladies. So I scoped some out and sent the boy on his way to meet girls. While I was sitting in the background waiting to hear how each conversation turned out I hear a loud bang at the window... stripper. she'd found us.. now she was gonna kill us.. I'm sure of it. She did the finger wave.. which is like jazz hands but sad and scary. So as she walked in the bar, I screamed "MAY DAY!! ABORT MISSION" to the boners with legs and ran again. She didn't seem to follow us this time, I think she got the hint that she made us all very uncomfortable. After wandering around for a bit more, It was time to go so we hopped in a cab and went back to our respective sleeping quarters.
I plugged my phone in, set my alarm for work in the morning becuse i knew I'd forget to even go if it didn't go off and put my phone down.. off to comadreamsleepland I went.
I woke up around 11, feeling refreshed and well slept. After all, I'd only gotten a couple hours of sleep in the last couple days and was feeling a bit rundown. The day was quiet, no phone calls, messages or facebook notifications..so naturally I checked to see if my phone was broken. yup. the friggin battery had come out so I missed my alarm, missed my shift, missed every text someone sent to wake me up and missed any chance of making money that day. UGH!!! Luckily, I'm not fired and didn't have to send a fruit basket to make up for it.
If that were the case. I could have just packed the two melons that were dropped on my face earlier that weekend.
7.07.2012
If I had balls, the Universe kicked them.
woke up this morning and olympics were on and NOW late in the afternoon is when they play kids shows? like children sleep in on weekends? no.. they don't. thats why parents hate them so much.
i dont mean to be so pissy (yes i do, i mean every word) but today has gone the complete opp-po-zit of what I'd thought it was gonna be..
i suppose i should also mention that last night was the single greatest wind suitiest night of my life so today being shit tay makes me feel even sadder.
yesterday was a normal day at the office- besides hating two of my coworkers with a fiery passion that could only be compared to the two of them being the indigestion of my life that i cannot take a pepcid for.. i came home early to a quiet house and thought about having a quiet night in when my roomie came home with news of her evening plans-- 80's Booze Cruise around the harbor. A three hour tour you say? By Gilligan- I'm in! I just so happen to have a nasty (and i mean that with all the respect due to a windsuit) electric lime green wind suit, complete with shoulder pads.. that i've been waiting ever so impatiently to wear. She hasn't gotten the words out of her mouth and I had my side pony, red pumps and windsuit on. I was ready for action. It was amazing- except for they were sold out when we got there and I didnt have a ticket. Luckily. I've made friends with the security guy and my room mate's friend's husband (ya catch that?) was the bassist... so he came to get me. Thank goodness becaues walking back to the car alone through the city dressed as a white Oprah from her early days would have been a great reason to get mugged of my bangles and pride. We sang and danced all night, it was beautiful. At one point (okay at several points) I got up with the band to sing- Don't Stop Believing was my greatest hit. I even sang louder than the lead guy (who was dressed as Michael Jackson... or Elvis, I couldn't tell)
So I came home around 11 and went to bed because an early doctor's appt made it nearly impossible to have any fun. just kidding, I was tore up from the floor up. now.. I guess it's at soon as I closed my eyes that the universe said "alright.. let's get her"
I woke early this morning with the distinct feeling I was falling off my bed and possibly to my death- nope. just the vertigo caused by the everlasting ear infection I have in my face. Going past the two week mark with an ear infection is no joke- and I know jokes. so after I assure myself I'm not gonna die (at least not in my bed this morning) I check the clock on my phone and its friggin 5 am. Seriously? Eff my life. I notice I have two missed calls from a friend at a very odd hour of 3:48am. What in God's name do you need from a female that early in the morning you couldn't pay some other lucky lady for? So I didn't respond.
I finally get out of bed to get to my appt, my heads pounding and my ear is ringing like a son of a bee sting but I trudge through. The Doctor informs me of what I already know- there's still plenty of fluid in my ear and because of where it is in my ear they can't get it out. It has to drain on it's own- friggin awesomeeee. so I burst into tears because I'm so stressed out about it I can barely function properly. Good news is though I'm not bleeding inside my ear anymore- win/win? not so much. So he gives me more meds to get that thing under control- when I'm leaving I get another message from my early morning friend - "you need to call me back we have to go bail mister out" oohhh snap! what! So I tried to call back and "you have reach verizon wireless.. please hold to speak to a represntative. (long pause) all represenatives are unavailable we reopen on monday- goodbye" WHAT! why would you redirect me to a closed building? and why can I get calls and messages but not answer or reply? So I just drove over- I walk in and Mister is sleeping in his bed. not in jail, not gone missing, his face isn't on any milk jugs.. just in his pillow. So for the next 45 minutes I listen to the story of his OUI and getting bailed out by another guy "the only friend that helped him out" on that note. I left him in bed and took my over zealous phone caller to get his car from the impound lot.
By this time I'm fully annoyed and ready to be home but I have alot crap to do so I speeding a little. I'm thinking of all the things I had to do today including driving to the beach to do a fundraiser for children, driving to a bridal store to get my shoes for next weekends wedding, driving to the pharmacy for my infected faceskull and then I see them...
I make eye contact with some of my city's finest policemen who follow me for a short distance before pulling me over. It's not just one policemen it's TWO! Do I look like Lindsay Lohan? I don't need to be surrounded.. I'm too lazy to run away from you anyway and I dont have enough gas in my car to drive away from you either, I'd high speed- make- you- chase- me to my house before I went anywhere else! Damn!
So he asks for the usual information and then says he's pulled me over for speeding and my inspection and my registration is up. Registration was due in June (didnt have a clue) and my inspection was due in January.. I thought it was done in January so I never bothered to look at it. Then he asks for insurance- apparently I only have my expired card. Then he asks for my license- it's invalid because my new address doesn't match the address listed. Wow.
"you're breaking alot of laws here ma'am"
"yes sir i know, i've been told i'm an habitual line crosser but i dont mean to. i really am just stupid"
"............................." (thats him staring at me)
"im sorry!"
"................................................just go. and get all this stuff taken care of. you cant be on the road otherwise"
well. I drove myself the thirty more feet to my house and thankfully my roomie busted out the gin because after being told I can't use my license or car.. I can still drive myself to drunk town.
i dont mean to be so pissy (yes i do, i mean every word) but today has gone the complete opp-po-zit of what I'd thought it was gonna be..
i suppose i should also mention that last night was the single greatest wind suitiest night of my life so today being shit tay makes me feel even sadder.
yesterday was a normal day at the office- besides hating two of my coworkers with a fiery passion that could only be compared to the two of them being the indigestion of my life that i cannot take a pepcid for.. i came home early to a quiet house and thought about having a quiet night in when my roomie came home with news of her evening plans-- 80's Booze Cruise around the harbor. A three hour tour you say? By Gilligan- I'm in! I just so happen to have a nasty (and i mean that with all the respect due to a windsuit) electric lime green wind suit, complete with shoulder pads.. that i've been waiting ever so impatiently to wear. She hasn't gotten the words out of her mouth and I had my side pony, red pumps and windsuit on. I was ready for action. It was amazing- except for they were sold out when we got there and I didnt have a ticket. Luckily. I've made friends with the security guy and my room mate's friend's husband (ya catch that?) was the bassist... so he came to get me. Thank goodness becaues walking back to the car alone through the city dressed as a white Oprah from her early days would have been a great reason to get mugged of my bangles and pride. We sang and danced all night, it was beautiful. At one point (okay at several points) I got up with the band to sing- Don't Stop Believing was my greatest hit. I even sang louder than the lead guy (who was dressed as Michael Jackson... or Elvis, I couldn't tell)
So I came home around 11 and went to bed because an early doctor's appt made it nearly impossible to have any fun. just kidding, I was tore up from the floor up. now.. I guess it's at soon as I closed my eyes that the universe said "alright.. let's get her"
I woke early this morning with the distinct feeling I was falling off my bed and possibly to my death- nope. just the vertigo caused by the everlasting ear infection I have in my face. Going past the two week mark with an ear infection is no joke- and I know jokes. so after I assure myself I'm not gonna die (at least not in my bed this morning) I check the clock on my phone and its friggin 5 am. Seriously? Eff my life. I notice I have two missed calls from a friend at a very odd hour of 3:48am. What in God's name do you need from a female that early in the morning you couldn't pay some other lucky lady for? So I didn't respond.
I finally get out of bed to get to my appt, my heads pounding and my ear is ringing like a son of a bee sting but I trudge through. The Doctor informs me of what I already know- there's still plenty of fluid in my ear and because of where it is in my ear they can't get it out. It has to drain on it's own- friggin awesomeeee. so I burst into tears because I'm so stressed out about it I can barely function properly. Good news is though I'm not bleeding inside my ear anymore- win/win? not so much. So he gives me more meds to get that thing under control- when I'm leaving I get another message from my early morning friend - "you need to call me back we have to go bail mister out" oohhh snap! what! So I tried to call back and "you have reach verizon wireless.. please hold to speak to a represntative. (long pause) all represenatives are unavailable we reopen on monday- goodbye" WHAT! why would you redirect me to a closed building? and why can I get calls and messages but not answer or reply? So I just drove over- I walk in and Mister is sleeping in his bed. not in jail, not gone missing, his face isn't on any milk jugs.. just in his pillow. So for the next 45 minutes I listen to the story of his OUI and getting bailed out by another guy "the only friend that helped him out" on that note. I left him in bed and took my over zealous phone caller to get his car from the impound lot.
By this time I'm fully annoyed and ready to be home but I have alot crap to do so I speeding a little. I'm thinking of all the things I had to do today including driving to the beach to do a fundraiser for children, driving to a bridal store to get my shoes for next weekends wedding, driving to the pharmacy for my infected faceskull and then I see them...
I make eye contact with some of my city's finest policemen who follow me for a short distance before pulling me over. It's not just one policemen it's TWO! Do I look like Lindsay Lohan? I don't need to be surrounded.. I'm too lazy to run away from you anyway and I dont have enough gas in my car to drive away from you either, I'd high speed- make- you- chase- me to my house before I went anywhere else! Damn!
So he asks for the usual information and then says he's pulled me over for speeding and my inspection and my registration is up. Registration was due in June (didnt have a clue) and my inspection was due in January.. I thought it was done in January so I never bothered to look at it. Then he asks for insurance- apparently I only have my expired card. Then he asks for my license- it's invalid because my new address doesn't match the address listed. Wow.
"you're breaking alot of laws here ma'am"
"yes sir i know, i've been told i'm an habitual line crosser but i dont mean to. i really am just stupid"
"............................." (thats him staring at me)
"im sorry!"
"................................................just go. and get all this stuff taken care of. you cant be on the road otherwise"
well. I drove myself the thirty more feet to my house and thankfully my roomie busted out the gin because after being told I can't use my license or car.. I can still drive myself to drunk town.
6.27.2012
I'm Right Hooked On You
when your young your parents think its so charming and adorable when you're a dreamer.. they tell their friends about your imaginations and their coworkers see all your art. when you're a child, dreaming outrageous things whether for your future or just in your sleep, were excercises of your brain power and proof of cognitive thinking. however.. when you're an adult and dream of punching people in the face, your parents sign you up for counseling and drop you off at wal mart assuring you they're just parking the car but never return.
i dont know what it is but lately my dreams have been about gettin my fist some face action. i know it sounds rough but think about it... and be honest. we're all friends here.. this is a safe place. haven't you ever woken up from a dream where you punched that skinny b-word cashier, you know the one that gave you the stink eye when you were buying fat pants and had the coffee stain on your old tee shirt? the one that's perfectly updo'd hair and airbrushed make up made you feel like you'd somehow evolved from an aardvark not a primate... but FELT RELIEF?! I know I have...
i just wish i could control how i dream.. for instance. i was at the mall today with my two lady friends who just so happen to be gettin married and we were goin to find some ballin outfits for their pre wedding photos. we're all chatting happily about food and how we'd all like to mow down on some french fries, pretzels and my personal favorite-- may-o-nnaise (dont judge me)-- when a tall Barbara Walters, minus thirty years, walks by and interjects "as if i care"... First of all- this was an A, B and Double D converstion so C your way out of it.. Second- if I'm going to discuss the hot topic of mayo it's going to be with my friends and or a sandwhich artist but certainly not you or any other member of The View... but I digress. Instead of taking all of that and keeping in my head to dwell on (i'm a dweller) I could have simply put it in my "gonna dream it off" box. when i go to sleep tonight, I could've really given her the one, two, one, two. now the only counting i'm doing sheep... weeeeeak.
anyhow. i've been concentrating really hard on DMX today and I'm hoping if my new idea of self mind control works, I'll be having myself a grand ole time come midnight.. i turn into something when the clock strikes twelve baby, but it ain't a princess... ya dig?
i dont know what it is but lately my dreams have been about gettin my fist some face action. i know it sounds rough but think about it... and be honest. we're all friends here.. this is a safe place. haven't you ever woken up from a dream where you punched that skinny b-word cashier, you know the one that gave you the stink eye when you were buying fat pants and had the coffee stain on your old tee shirt? the one that's perfectly updo'd hair and airbrushed make up made you feel like you'd somehow evolved from an aardvark not a primate... but FELT RELIEF?! I know I have...
i just wish i could control how i dream.. for instance. i was at the mall today with my two lady friends who just so happen to be gettin married and we were goin to find some ballin outfits for their pre wedding photos. we're all chatting happily about food and how we'd all like to mow down on some french fries, pretzels and my personal favorite-- may-o-nnaise (dont judge me)-- when a tall Barbara Walters, minus thirty years, walks by and interjects "as if i care"... First of all- this was an A, B and Double D converstion so C your way out of it.. Second- if I'm going to discuss the hot topic of mayo it's going to be with my friends and or a sandwhich artist but certainly not you or any other member of The View... but I digress. Instead of taking all of that and keeping in my head to dwell on (i'm a dweller) I could have simply put it in my "gonna dream it off" box. when i go to sleep tonight, I could've really given her the one, two, one, two. now the only counting i'm doing sheep... weeeeeak.
anyhow. i've been concentrating really hard on DMX today and I'm hoping if my new idea of self mind control works, I'll be having myself a grand ole time come midnight.. i turn into something when the clock strikes twelve baby, but it ain't a princess... ya dig?
6.24.2012
When Two Become One (Families and Prescriptions)
Usually someone only needs antibiotics after a wedding but not me. I did it backwards.
I love functions in the sticks. Now, I am beyond proud of where I come from and very proudly, matter of factly and adimantly state I will eventually move back to settle down; etc but holy cheese does it give me something to write about.
On Thursday morning I woke up in my city apartment (that makes me sound so posh) by the beach to the sound of the birds chirping in the sun, the cars passing by on the quaint quiet street until BAM something in my head EXPLODES and it was like pain volcano erupted its miserable angry pain lava into my ear drum. Was my imaginary brain tumor finally coming to life, or was the spider I've alwys imagined would eventually make its way into my brain finally found the coordinates to my frontal lobe? What was going on!? It just so happens that while my face was imploding I had to travel the six hours north to attend a wedding of a dear family friend. Knowing I can't miss this trip I decide to try to head up early and fight through this pain in my head side.
Not happenin-- I made it about two hours north before stopping at the bath salts capital of the East Coast to make an appearance in their living room, ahem, i'm sorry i meant the ER. After waiting two hours a Dr finally sees me and says "ohhh you're here for a sore throat?" A SORE THROAT? Only if I had been punched in the throat by Wolverine would I feel like that was a viable excuse to go to there. So I explained to her as politely as I could that no, in fact iw as not there for a stuffy nose or a swollen lymphnode.. that in fact I was amongst the drug infested hooligans because i had a renegade ear drum on acid, playing around in my face! It's not an instant after she takes the scope to my ear she says "ohhhh yeah, that's really bad. looks like it hurt.. how do you feel about vicodin?" How do I feel about Vicodin? About the same as I feel about a hot rich man wanting to touch my boobs, or about winning the lottery and not paying taxes on it. I feel the same way about vicodin at this point than I do about pepto bismol and DMX. Sidenote: for those of you who dont know. I've only taken Vicodin one other time and I had to fall off a two story porch-- allow me to correct myself. I didnt fall off the porch. I was connected to the porch as it collapsed off the building (but I didnt spill my drink)
After my detour for the night, I continued the trip home- high as a kite but feeling alllllllllright (because the nightmares the pills give me and the incessant itching of my nose and eyes). I got my hairs did, courtesy of my Madres and then ran up to get my dress on (the one that makes my butt put JLo's to shame) and head back into town for the Main Event.
It was beautiful. The ceremony was long but worth it, she was stunning and the groom was as handsome as ever. My family got to sit quite close to the front so we were able to see all of it and hear the vows- it was beautiful. Then it was time for communion and I liked this part because I got to go up first and then watch everyone else walk by. This is where I give my shout out to the DOUCHE in Jeans and T Shirt with the sunglasses on his head... If you can't find the time to at least unroll your sleeve to let your marlboro lights out of it you Grease-esque weirdo, for the bride.. at least do it for Jesus! Damn dude. you looked like a bum that fell asleep IN the church and woke up thinking it was the lunch line... its communion not a soup kitchen. Just an FYI I prayed for you, and then I damned your parents.
Onto the reception-- It was gorgeous, I loved the set up and everyone seemed to find a place (the bar line) very quickly, easily and everyone was having fun.
This was a great party. The DJ was amazing and did a great job making sure everyone had fun, everyone was involved. dancing and when it was time to grab the cake he let them know too. Apparently one girl took notes and tried to multi task however. At one point that song "to the right, to the left now y'all.. now stomp three times; etc" came on and because I can't follow directions I was always backwards to everyone else... at one point I'm facing the crowd and realizing one member of this flash mob is not only dancing her face off but stuffing her face off at the same time. she was chewing to the beat of the music-- that poor cake didnt stand a chance. I thought maybe it was just a quick bite and she'd put it down so I stepped back to watch and sho nuff, she ate through the whole song. Like she couldn't choose one thing or the other? I can't even take a sip of something while I dance I literally have to stop or go to turtle pace in order to get my beverage down the hatch before I start to shake my groove thing again. Meh to each his plate.. i mean own.
The rest of the night was relatively smooth and after my high wore off I realize- I'm friggin miserable. We went home with a platter of cheese and vienna sausage toes because high heels aren't cute after 6 hours of being in them. I wish there was spanx for feet so I'd always look like I had slender leg hands.. but any whoo. I'm very happy for the lovely couple and wish them many years of happiness, love and babies.
Now I've had my handfull of vitaminny and pain pilly goodness and it's off to night terrorville.
I love functions in the sticks. Now, I am beyond proud of where I come from and very proudly, matter of factly and adimantly state I will eventually move back to settle down; etc but holy cheese does it give me something to write about.
On Thursday morning I woke up in my city apartment (that makes me sound so posh) by the beach to the sound of the birds chirping in the sun, the cars passing by on the quaint quiet street until BAM something in my head EXPLODES and it was like pain volcano erupted its miserable angry pain lava into my ear drum. Was my imaginary brain tumor finally coming to life, or was the spider I've alwys imagined would eventually make its way into my brain finally found the coordinates to my frontal lobe? What was going on!? It just so happens that while my face was imploding I had to travel the six hours north to attend a wedding of a dear family friend. Knowing I can't miss this trip I decide to try to head up early and fight through this pain in my head side.
Not happenin-- I made it about two hours north before stopping at the bath salts capital of the East Coast to make an appearance in their living room, ahem, i'm sorry i meant the ER. After waiting two hours a Dr finally sees me and says "ohhh you're here for a sore throat?" A SORE THROAT? Only if I had been punched in the throat by Wolverine would I feel like that was a viable excuse to go to there. So I explained to her as politely as I could that no, in fact iw as not there for a stuffy nose or a swollen lymphnode.. that in fact I was amongst the drug infested hooligans because i had a renegade ear drum on acid, playing around in my face! It's not an instant after she takes the scope to my ear she says "ohhhh yeah, that's really bad. looks like it hurt.. how do you feel about vicodin?" How do I feel about Vicodin? About the same as I feel about a hot rich man wanting to touch my boobs, or about winning the lottery and not paying taxes on it. I feel the same way about vicodin at this point than I do about pepto bismol and DMX. Sidenote: for those of you who dont know. I've only taken Vicodin one other time and I had to fall off a two story porch-- allow me to correct myself. I didnt fall off the porch. I was connected to the porch as it collapsed off the building (but I didnt spill my drink)
After my detour for the night, I continued the trip home- high as a kite but feeling alllllllllright (because the nightmares the pills give me and the incessant itching of my nose and eyes). I got my hairs did, courtesy of my Madres and then ran up to get my dress on (the one that makes my butt put JLo's to shame) and head back into town for the Main Event.
It was beautiful. The ceremony was long but worth it, she was stunning and the groom was as handsome as ever. My family got to sit quite close to the front so we were able to see all of it and hear the vows- it was beautiful. Then it was time for communion and I liked this part because I got to go up first and then watch everyone else walk by. This is where I give my shout out to the DOUCHE in Jeans and T Shirt with the sunglasses on his head... If you can't find the time to at least unroll your sleeve to let your marlboro lights out of it you Grease-esque weirdo, for the bride.. at least do it for Jesus! Damn dude. you looked like a bum that fell asleep IN the church and woke up thinking it was the lunch line... its communion not a soup kitchen. Just an FYI I prayed for you, and then I damned your parents.
Onto the reception-- It was gorgeous, I loved the set up and everyone seemed to find a place (the bar line) very quickly, easily and everyone was having fun.
This was a great party. The DJ was amazing and did a great job making sure everyone had fun, everyone was involved. dancing and when it was time to grab the cake he let them know too. Apparently one girl took notes and tried to multi task however. At one point that song "to the right, to the left now y'all.. now stomp three times; etc" came on and because I can't follow directions I was always backwards to everyone else... at one point I'm facing the crowd and realizing one member of this flash mob is not only dancing her face off but stuffing her face off at the same time. she was chewing to the beat of the music-- that poor cake didnt stand a chance. I thought maybe it was just a quick bite and she'd put it down so I stepped back to watch and sho nuff, she ate through the whole song. Like she couldn't choose one thing or the other? I can't even take a sip of something while I dance I literally have to stop or go to turtle pace in order to get my beverage down the hatch before I start to shake my groove thing again. Meh to each his plate.. i mean own.
The rest of the night was relatively smooth and after my high wore off I realize- I'm friggin miserable. We went home with a platter of cheese and vienna sausage toes because high heels aren't cute after 6 hours of being in them. I wish there was spanx for feet so I'd always look like I had slender leg hands.. but any whoo. I'm very happy for the lovely couple and wish them many years of happiness, love and babies.
Now I've had my handfull of vitaminny and pain pilly goodness and it's off to night terrorville.
6.20.2012
To Hit... or to Run.
never thought i'd be faced with the option of killing a person or saving myself.
Ive realized tonight that i don't just say I'm a selfish person.. i'm gonna ride or die that shit.
so i'm coming home after working bar shift at the restaurant. it was a relatively easy night so i found myself to be more relaxed and very less uptight. normally, on a crazy night it gets my anxiety going sky high and i find myself thinking of outrageous things, which usually leads me into a state of paranoia. tonight however, was different. which screwed me.
my shift ended and i waited for my boss (which also happens to be my closest friend here in the big cit-ay) to be done so we could go have a drink and catch up. which we do. for a while. but i digress....
i'm on my drive home, relaxed carefree and jammin out to my spice girls remix. i always take the same route-- never any back roads, never any unlit streets and never... under any circumstance make eye contact. there's one street however that is ALWAYS red when I get to it. and it's not flashing so i can't just drive through it--- which i've learned since being here,..
i approach the light (red as usual) and see three people crossing the street. Two women and a man (at least anatomically) and I approach very cautiously and slowly. They are making it across safely but as they're crossing my street their glance met mine....... the leader of the pack met my stare so intensely it immediately sent shivers up my spine. Her eyes followed mine the entirety of her endeavour but i broke it as soon as possible by looking at my phone for a quick glance. FYI- studies show when drivers look at their phones it takes 4.6 seconds.. so I'm assuming in that time she would have had enough seconds to get the eff across the street and forget about me but NOPE. She didn't.
She stopped, he stopped and the third she beast followed suit. They all came back to my car... HOW LONG IS THIS FRIGGIN RED LIGHT GONNA LAST?!?!??! It is in that moment I decided, I don't care.. whoever gets hit when I turn left is gettin it.. and I had 911 already dialed (you all know how i feel about pedestrians and reporting incidents). Finally the light turned green before she could lunge at my vehicle but I've never felt so creeped or skeeved out ever...
Not a real funny story but holy balls did I almost need some depends....
Ive realized tonight that i don't just say I'm a selfish person.. i'm gonna ride or die that shit.
so i'm coming home after working bar shift at the restaurant. it was a relatively easy night so i found myself to be more relaxed and very less uptight. normally, on a crazy night it gets my anxiety going sky high and i find myself thinking of outrageous things, which usually leads me into a state of paranoia. tonight however, was different. which screwed me.
my shift ended and i waited for my boss (which also happens to be my closest friend here in the big cit-ay) to be done so we could go have a drink and catch up. which we do. for a while. but i digress....
i'm on my drive home, relaxed carefree and jammin out to my spice girls remix. i always take the same route-- never any back roads, never any unlit streets and never... under any circumstance make eye contact. there's one street however that is ALWAYS red when I get to it. and it's not flashing so i can't just drive through it--- which i've learned since being here,..
i approach the light (red as usual) and see three people crossing the street. Two women and a man (at least anatomically) and I approach very cautiously and slowly. They are making it across safely but as they're crossing my street their glance met mine....... the leader of the pack met my stare so intensely it immediately sent shivers up my spine. Her eyes followed mine the entirety of her endeavour but i broke it as soon as possible by looking at my phone for a quick glance. FYI- studies show when drivers look at their phones it takes 4.6 seconds.. so I'm assuming in that time she would have had enough seconds to get the eff across the street and forget about me but NOPE. She didn't.
She stopped, he stopped and the third she beast followed suit. They all came back to my car... HOW LONG IS THIS FRIGGIN RED LIGHT GONNA LAST?!?!??! It is in that moment I decided, I don't care.. whoever gets hit when I turn left is gettin it.. and I had 911 already dialed (you all know how i feel about pedestrians and reporting incidents). Finally the light turned green before she could lunge at my vehicle but I've never felt so creeped or skeeved out ever...
Not a real funny story but holy balls did I almost need some depends....
6.18.2012
A picture triggers too many words.
nothing really interesting has happened to be lately besides funneling at a family party. after partying at the most red neck spot i could find and joining the band for one hoorah. I dont know what it is about my alcohol intake and bands.. i just wanna get my Travis tritt on.. in a bad way.
speaking of bad. today i realized what my friend Scott is always telling me to do "think about what you're about to say.. then don't say it" and why i should actually do it.
it was early in the morning and a Monday. that equation always adds up to horrible small talk for me. i was standing in the break room at breakfast getting my hot water and oatmeal ready when i notice a white coffee mug on the counter. It was clearly a plain mug you can bring to a store and have a picture printed on. This one had Snooki's face.
Snooki was perfectly portrayed with her tanned skin, long dark locks and bright pink duck face, pouty lips pointed due north at the camera. Now the camera was positioned ever so "accidentally" to stare straight down her lady junks to the leopard bra. Come on now.. who the heck would want to drink coffee out of those sugar bags? Any how, I scanned the mug for ammo because I was shooting off rounds of judgement like nobody's business. Yippee, Ki Ya mother... well ya know. As I turned the mug I also saw a tan boy standing there with his shirt off on the beach. who would wear a t-shirt opened at the beach? Snooki's boyfriend. That's who. Why on God's green earth would anyone purposely put their mugs on a mug?
The owner of the mug walks in and it was totally unexpected. A nice simple looking woman, with wiry hair and bad glasses. She smelled of old musk and the inside of an old book. When I looked at her with a cunning grin and said "you're a jersey shore fan?" She looked at me oddly. I pointed to the mug "snooki and her boyfriend?" she just stared and then looked at me and laughed "oh, that show. no way!" So I asked her then very inquisitively.. "then why do you have her on your mug, that's an awful sight first thing" Her final reply? Something about that being a picture of her children on a family vacation...
THAT'S the best picture you have of your children? take a picture of someone else's kids then, or a put a bag on theirs.
speaking of bad. today i realized what my friend Scott is always telling me to do "think about what you're about to say.. then don't say it" and why i should actually do it.
it was early in the morning and a Monday. that equation always adds up to horrible small talk for me. i was standing in the break room at breakfast getting my hot water and oatmeal ready when i notice a white coffee mug on the counter. It was clearly a plain mug you can bring to a store and have a picture printed on. This one had Snooki's face.
Snooki was perfectly portrayed with her tanned skin, long dark locks and bright pink duck face, pouty lips pointed due north at the camera. Now the camera was positioned ever so "accidentally" to stare straight down her lady junks to the leopard bra. Come on now.. who the heck would want to drink coffee out of those sugar bags? Any how, I scanned the mug for ammo because I was shooting off rounds of judgement like nobody's business. Yippee, Ki Ya mother... well ya know. As I turned the mug I also saw a tan boy standing there with his shirt off on the beach. who would wear a t-shirt opened at the beach? Snooki's boyfriend. That's who. Why on God's green earth would anyone purposely put their mugs on a mug?
The owner of the mug walks in and it was totally unexpected. A nice simple looking woman, with wiry hair and bad glasses. She smelled of old musk and the inside of an old book. When I looked at her with a cunning grin and said "you're a jersey shore fan?" She looked at me oddly. I pointed to the mug "snooki and her boyfriend?" she just stared and then looked at me and laughed "oh, that show. no way!" So I asked her then very inquisitively.. "then why do you have her on your mug, that's an awful sight first thing" Her final reply? Something about that being a picture of her children on a family vacation...
THAT'S the best picture you have of your children? take a picture of someone else's kids then, or a put a bag on theirs.
6.13.2012
I'm not vintage yet- I'm aging.
I've realized a couple other things about becoming an adult in this doomed world, I wouldn't have thought of in such a way just 5 years ago.
*Getting Paid-- no longer means you have money, it really only means not EVERY check you wrote last week will bounce.
*Getting Laid-- not nearly as important as it was. Now, I'd rather get that extra five minutes of sleep I don't have to pretend I have a headache or my period to actually get.
*Getting Up-- simply means, getting out of bed now and it's usually much earlier than noon.
*Getting Around-- is more of a concern now because I'm actually referring to my car.
*Getting Turned On-- this is a shout out to my electricity after *getting paid takes place and not to what happens after one too many Allen's coffee brandy's.
*Baby Phat vs Fat Jeans-- I only fit into one of those now.
*DMX- Still the greatest thing to ever grace my dreams.
*Dates-- actually are a food, not just something you go on to get some (some food, sickos)
*Wine- is still adult grape juice.
*Drinking too much- is no longer a one night stand. It is a long drawn out painfully hungover couple days of recovery and my old ass can't hang.
*Bones- you dont need a flu for them to hurt- just sit in a swivel chair for 8 hours a day.
*Glasses- aren't just to finish up "my look" it's necessary so I won't run over children in the street (even if they take too long to cross it)
*Hot Flashes- aren't a result of a change in room temperature... its my actual body's way of being a jerk. and instilling the ungodly fear of menopause in me.
I can't type anymore, sitting indian style makes my hips hurt and i get stuck.
*Getting Paid-- no longer means you have money, it really only means not EVERY check you wrote last week will bounce.
*Getting Laid-- not nearly as important as it was. Now, I'd rather get that extra five minutes of sleep I don't have to pretend I have a headache or my period to actually get.
*Getting Up-- simply means, getting out of bed now and it's usually much earlier than noon.
*Getting Around-- is more of a concern now because I'm actually referring to my car.
*Getting Turned On-- this is a shout out to my electricity after *getting paid takes place and not to what happens after one too many Allen's coffee brandy's.
*Baby Phat vs Fat Jeans-- I only fit into one of those now.
*DMX- Still the greatest thing to ever grace my dreams.
*Dates-- actually are a food, not just something you go on to get some (some food, sickos)
*Wine- is still adult grape juice.
*Drinking too much- is no longer a one night stand. It is a long drawn out painfully hungover couple days of recovery and my old ass can't hang.
*Bones- you dont need a flu for them to hurt- just sit in a swivel chair for 8 hours a day.
*Glasses- aren't just to finish up "my look" it's necessary so I won't run over children in the street (even if they take too long to cross it)
*Hot Flashes- aren't a result of a change in room temperature... its my actual body's way of being a jerk. and instilling the ungodly fear of menopause in me.
I can't type anymore, sitting indian style makes my hips hurt and i get stuck.
6.08.2012
Hello Kitty, Goodbye Dignity.
Nothing says good morning like an ass in your face.
The day started out normally, no issues to be spoken of except my head full of daggers feeling headache. I decided not to focus on that however, in order to get through what was sure to be a hellish day at the office. I got my folders, pens, water and set myself up for the day.
Now, I’ve seen some things in my time here. I’ve been assaulted by a grown man, I’ve seen a man come in and try to sell stolen radios. I’ve seen a lady wearing nylons...as pants, but today really takes the cake. I called her into my room.. she stands up from the desk where she’d made herself comfortable and as we reached eye level her pants met floor level. Boom. There goes the dynamite. Now. If that wasn’t bad enough… and I know some might think that was bad enough.. she bent over to pick them up.. “I’m glad she was wearing underwear” Is what I would have said, IF SHE HAD BEEN WEARING ANY AT ALL!! Not only did she break me off a piece of her kit kat, she showed me her blow hole. If this story isn’t sad enough let me also mention she was wearing a see through white tank top that only covered her mid section.. and by mid section I mean the flubber like human flesh that infested her body between her neck and thighs. When she bent over to pick up her pants, she dropped her boobs out. When she used one hand to keep the pants steady and the other to pull her tank top.. her belly button pulled through. It’s only 10:30 and I was having a hard enough time stomaching food as it is.. but now I will never be hungry again.
If we were in Florida I’d gladly give my eyes to Zombies for what they have seen today will forever be burned into my memory.
The day started out normally, no issues to be spoken of except my head full of daggers feeling headache. I decided not to focus on that however, in order to get through what was sure to be a hellish day at the office. I got my folders, pens, water and set myself up for the day.
Now, I’ve seen some things in my time here. I’ve been assaulted by a grown man, I’ve seen a man come in and try to sell stolen radios. I’ve seen a lady wearing nylons...as pants, but today really takes the cake. I called her into my room.. she stands up from the desk where she’d made herself comfortable and as we reached eye level her pants met floor level. Boom. There goes the dynamite. Now. If that wasn’t bad enough… and I know some might think that was bad enough.. she bent over to pick them up.. “I’m glad she was wearing underwear” Is what I would have said, IF SHE HAD BEEN WEARING ANY AT ALL!! Not only did she break me off a piece of her kit kat, she showed me her blow hole. If this story isn’t sad enough let me also mention she was wearing a see through white tank top that only covered her mid section.. and by mid section I mean the flubber like human flesh that infested her body between her neck and thighs. When she bent over to pick up her pants, she dropped her boobs out. When she used one hand to keep the pants steady and the other to pull her tank top.. her belly button pulled through. It’s only 10:30 and I was having a hard enough time stomaching food as it is.. but now I will never be hungry again.
If we were in Florida I’d gladly give my eyes to Zombies for what they have seen today will forever be burned into my memory.
6.03.2012
A conversation with me, myself and I. Myself wouldn't shut up.
why do back up dancers have to do stupid dances just to sing their songs. i think they might sound better if they weren't so damn winded.
why do celebrities complain about being famous? if you didn't want your stuff on blast, don't put youreslf out there. that's why i'm not famous... people know too much about me.
why does david hasselhoff still try to be cool? you're on a beach in your latest commercial but its for cumby's dude.. not baywatch farms.
how is it i can be best facebook friends with someone, but will do ANYTHING to avoid a real life conversation with him/her (mostly hers)? i hope someone agrees with me
if i had to be an animal, i think i'd be a moose so I could have a salt lick and then teach the other meese to not walk in the road.. or at least how to look both ways.... i know that's nota question but it came into my head as I was typing.
why does Adele's "someone like you" make me cry, EVERY. SINGLE. DAMN. TIME. bahh!
why can't Miss Maine ever make it past top 16. argh.
so i'm obviously watching the Miss USA pageant and they keep saying how they love a woman with confidence... if THAT'S the case.. come judge me after a 12 pack. you'll be crownin me for sure!
as i was typing this the commentator said "I love the way she opened her slit and rode it all the way down" I'm sorry but I though this was a family show?
why do celebrities complain about being famous? if you didn't want your stuff on blast, don't put youreslf out there. that's why i'm not famous... people know too much about me.
why does david hasselhoff still try to be cool? you're on a beach in your latest commercial but its for cumby's dude.. not baywatch farms.
how is it i can be best facebook friends with someone, but will do ANYTHING to avoid a real life conversation with him/her (mostly hers)? i hope someone agrees with me
if i had to be an animal, i think i'd be a moose so I could have a salt lick and then teach the other meese to not walk in the road.. or at least how to look both ways.... i know that's nota question but it came into my head as I was typing.
why does Adele's "someone like you" make me cry, EVERY. SINGLE. DAMN. TIME. bahh!
why can't Miss Maine ever make it past top 16. argh.
so i'm obviously watching the Miss USA pageant and they keep saying how they love a woman with confidence... if THAT'S the case.. come judge me after a 12 pack. you'll be crownin me for sure!
as i was typing this the commentator said "I love the way she opened her slit and rode it all the way down" I'm sorry but I though this was a family show?
6.02.2012
vom-it's love.
all week i'd been looking forward to going out on a "first date" with a boy. so by the time Friday came around I was kinda pumped, made sure I was dressed nice, got my hair shiny, face tan, the right perfume to accent my deodorant and underwear that wouldn't give me wedgies were on. starting the night off right? check.
so he came to pick me up, i say he was late, he says he was giving me extra time- jury's still out on that one. but either way, im just glad he showed. i have it in my head that when a nice person wants to spend time with me that it's gonna end up like that drew barrymore movie when her prom date (the popular hot guy) goes to pick her up and throws eggs at her while his real date watches and laughs. i dont look good in egg so i'm thankful it didnt go that way.
so we went to a nice sushi place where i quickly learned- i really dont know how to use chop sticks, luckily i can use the line "i'm from the county" and using my fingers is acceptable. he however, was a friggin chop stick ninja and was whipping shit up like no problem. ahh, he's so skilled. after i finished the sake (this girl clearly has a drinkin problem) and whatever i could get my fingers on (quite literally) we went off to watch some comics. out of the three that performed, only one really stood out but it was nice to laugh- i think that's the best thing you can do with someone.. is laugh. if you can't laugh at the same things your days together are going to suck. one of the acts called us out though. Pointed and said "hey you look like fun" and proceeded to ask us questions about whether or not we were married, dating, met online; etc.. the usual questions you ask strangers. i figured that would happen though because it' smy life and what would a night out be without a little embarrassment. The show went on and the vodka ginger ales were rolling like a friggin delicious avalanche into my belly. I should have been paying more attention but I was having fun so I wasn't.... my mistake.
After the show we went to grab more drinks at a local bar and sit out on the patio. the weather was just right so it was nice to be getting fresh air, and more vodka. it's at this point a group of people walk by he's familiar with and one invited us to a club with them.. my first reaction was "ew, eff that place" and continued to point of, very matter of factly, why I thought that was a bad idea.. thinking he's agreeing with me i say "you know what i'm saying?" and his reply was "that's my club" in my Svedka state i thought he meant it like "that's my jam" or "that's my favorite sandwhich" so I kept going... then he clarified "no, i own it". you really can't come back from that so i just told him i liked their website and immediately excused myself from the conversation.
i dont know why i was still invited to attend but I was happy to be part of the bottle service.. with vodka. I should have just stuck to drinking the cranberry juice but it takes better with a little kick. Once that part is over- I decided it was a good time to go visit my girlfriends and my date, being the sweet person he is, obliged.
today was not so sweet. nor was this afternoon. but after i took my BAP (bath nap) and drank a copious amount of ginger ale, i felt awful. yeap, bet you thought this story would have a happy ending... wrong.
after all that debauchery, my unfiltered, sometimes off putting mouth and rough exterior he still held my hair back and my hand.
awwww.
so he came to pick me up, i say he was late, he says he was giving me extra time- jury's still out on that one. but either way, im just glad he showed. i have it in my head that when a nice person wants to spend time with me that it's gonna end up like that drew barrymore movie when her prom date (the popular hot guy) goes to pick her up and throws eggs at her while his real date watches and laughs. i dont look good in egg so i'm thankful it didnt go that way.
so we went to a nice sushi place where i quickly learned- i really dont know how to use chop sticks, luckily i can use the line "i'm from the county" and using my fingers is acceptable. he however, was a friggin chop stick ninja and was whipping shit up like no problem. ahh, he's so skilled. after i finished the sake (this girl clearly has a drinkin problem) and whatever i could get my fingers on (quite literally) we went off to watch some comics. out of the three that performed, only one really stood out but it was nice to laugh- i think that's the best thing you can do with someone.. is laugh. if you can't laugh at the same things your days together are going to suck. one of the acts called us out though. Pointed and said "hey you look like fun" and proceeded to ask us questions about whether or not we were married, dating, met online; etc.. the usual questions you ask strangers. i figured that would happen though because it' smy life and what would a night out be without a little embarrassment. The show went on and the vodka ginger ales were rolling like a friggin delicious avalanche into my belly. I should have been paying more attention but I was having fun so I wasn't.... my mistake.
After the show we went to grab more drinks at a local bar and sit out on the patio. the weather was just right so it was nice to be getting fresh air, and more vodka. it's at this point a group of people walk by he's familiar with and one invited us to a club with them.. my first reaction was "ew, eff that place" and continued to point of, very matter of factly, why I thought that was a bad idea.. thinking he's agreeing with me i say "you know what i'm saying?" and his reply was "that's my club" in my Svedka state i thought he meant it like "that's my jam" or "that's my favorite sandwhich" so I kept going... then he clarified "no, i own it". you really can't come back from that so i just told him i liked their website and immediately excused myself from the conversation.
i dont know why i was still invited to attend but I was happy to be part of the bottle service.. with vodka. I should have just stuck to drinking the cranberry juice but it takes better with a little kick. Once that part is over- I decided it was a good time to go visit my girlfriends and my date, being the sweet person he is, obliged.
today was not so sweet. nor was this afternoon. but after i took my BAP (bath nap) and drank a copious amount of ginger ale, i felt awful. yeap, bet you thought this story would have a happy ending... wrong.
after all that debauchery, my unfiltered, sometimes off putting mouth and rough exterior he still held my hair back and my hand.
awwww.
5.31.2012
5.30.2012
A hard to forget Memorial Day weekend
So I guess I should recap what this weekend entailed as some of the things I've seen have been forever burned into the back of my eyes.
It started out great, felt really motivated so I got my work out on, did the shake thing and kicked hypothetical ass. I picked up a cute, but very hungover boy and head to the beach with some friends where we lost a dog, found out how popular lesbians are and saw the world's most busted women make out with a man and finally ended the night by watching said woman dance on a pole... in public.... for free) Now, I don't want to sound catty but this woman was the female version of a horrific car accident wrapped in a Hawaiian print skirt that only covered everything below the bellybutton. Which would've been fine if she was as svelte and physically beautiful as her obviously blind boyfriend thought. But I digress... Sunday consisted of going back to the beach.. where we saw a couple sitting under a tent. Can we slow down here and all come to an agreement that bringing a god damn tent to a beach is NAHT okay. If you don't want to be in the sun you have some options. For instance you could stay indoors, you could tour a cave, maybe fall into the depths of the woman I was just mentioning, she looked like she had room for more-- really anything not outside will save you from it. So please, don't do it because without a doubt you will ruin someone else's day. Monday was great....lots of boys, booze, my bitches and bad decisions but all ended quite swell and if I could repeat it over and over I would.
And then today happened.
It's not one of those days where anything particular happened to cause me to wish I was allowed to hit people with my car, but I definitely had to make sure I had the brake on good when letting pedestrians through the cross walk. Again, let's pause together. For anyone out there who walks... pick up the speed. If a vehicle capable of running your ass down and out is stopping EVER SO KINDLY to let you pass, pick up the pace grandma and get those cheeks out of my damn way. It shouldn't take more than 10 seconds to cross a street. IF you are elderly and it does take between 10 and 20 seconds to cross the street-- you shouldn't be doing it alone anyway and therefore I should revert back to my being "The Reporter" and call somebody in Elder Services on you.... God knows you'd STILL be in the road by the time I was done.
Old people do the weirdest things.. I saw one blow a snot rocket today. LITERALLY. I was sitting on my back porch waiting for my next door neighbor to come out so I could stare uncomfortably while she talked to her sister (ya know, the usual) when this tall sweaty beast man came jogging by..fast enough to sweat, slow enough to judge. I could hear him swishing up past my house though, friggin wind suit gave him away, when the swishing slowed and I saw his hand reach up with enough form to say "hey world, we've done this before", to his nose and with one gasping breath that son of a bee sting pushed forth what could only be described by the sounds of gagging. Then he checked to make sure he didn't hit himself with it, picked his pace back up and kept going.
I wish he would've been crossing the street...
It started out great, felt really motivated so I got my work out on, did the shake thing and kicked hypothetical ass. I picked up a cute, but very hungover boy and head to the beach with some friends where we lost a dog, found out how popular lesbians are and saw the world's most busted women make out with a man and finally ended the night by watching said woman dance on a pole... in public.... for free) Now, I don't want to sound catty but this woman was the female version of a horrific car accident wrapped in a Hawaiian print skirt that only covered everything below the bellybutton. Which would've been fine if she was as svelte and physically beautiful as her obviously blind boyfriend thought. But I digress... Sunday consisted of going back to the beach.. where we saw a couple sitting under a tent. Can we slow down here and all come to an agreement that bringing a god damn tent to a beach is NAHT okay. If you don't want to be in the sun you have some options. For instance you could stay indoors, you could tour a cave, maybe fall into the depths of the woman I was just mentioning, she looked like she had room for more-- really anything not outside will save you from it. So please, don't do it because without a doubt you will ruin someone else's day. Monday was great....lots of boys, booze, my bitches and bad decisions but all ended quite swell and if I could repeat it over and over I would.
And then today happened.
It's not one of those days where anything particular happened to cause me to wish I was allowed to hit people with my car, but I definitely had to make sure I had the brake on good when letting pedestrians through the cross walk. Again, let's pause together. For anyone out there who walks... pick up the speed. If a vehicle capable of running your ass down and out is stopping EVER SO KINDLY to let you pass, pick up the pace grandma and get those cheeks out of my damn way. It shouldn't take more than 10 seconds to cross a street. IF you are elderly and it does take between 10 and 20 seconds to cross the street-- you shouldn't be doing it alone anyway and therefore I should revert back to my being "The Reporter" and call somebody in Elder Services on you.... God knows you'd STILL be in the road by the time I was done.
Old people do the weirdest things.. I saw one blow a snot rocket today. LITERALLY. I was sitting on my back porch waiting for my next door neighbor to come out so I could stare uncomfortably while she talked to her sister (ya know, the usual) when this tall sweaty beast man came jogging by..fast enough to sweat, slow enough to judge. I could hear him swishing up past my house though, friggin wind suit gave him away, when the swishing slowed and I saw his hand reach up with enough form to say "hey world, we've done this before", to his nose and with one gasping breath that son of a bee sting pushed forth what could only be described by the sounds of gagging. Then he checked to make sure he didn't hit himself with it, picked his pace back up and kept going.
I wish he would've been crossing the street...
5.24.2012
give a doc a bone.
well mom I've finally made you proud.. i found a doctor.
granted he's my chiropractor and he's married.. but that's the closest I've been to second base in a long time.. and he held me so tightly, it almost felt like he cared.
I'm built like an Orangutan apparently, with my uber high arches in my feet, my long masculine fingers (which I'd imagine are great for climbing trees and beating other monkeys up) and last but not least my strength is that of a pissed off Godzilla. All this information was founded at my initial visit today. He actually referred to me once as "monkey girl". I didn't mind because it was humorous and i thought to myself "I can't wait to share this" after I eat a banana.
The bed he put me on was one I hadn't seen before, it was standing up right with a foot stool and you stand on it, then he presses a button and it lays you down slowly. However, it made me nervous as it looked similar to what Frankenstein was created on. He could feel my apprehension and answered honestly when I asked him if he was going to kill me. He said no (phew, really dodged a bullet there) and didn't skip a beat when I asked if he was Dr Jekyll.
After being laid out for a couple minutes he started to examine the rest of my hard bod.. allow me to state when i mention my "hard bod" i don't mean i'm fit by any means, i actually quite literaly mean my stone cold, stressed out body parts felt like concrete had been poured into some casper white flesh. this is the point of the visit when i started to think really inappropriately and was only wishing someone else could read my mind and make jokes with me. You cant really blame me though, if a good looking doctor man has his hands on you and says things like "you are so tight, its giving me a real hard time" you're going to giggle.
At the end of the visit I felt totally relaxed, completely limber and when he asked for my contact info you bet your sweet ass I didn't fake number him.
granted he's my chiropractor and he's married.. but that's the closest I've been to second base in a long time.. and he held me so tightly, it almost felt like he cared.
I'm built like an Orangutan apparently, with my uber high arches in my feet, my long masculine fingers (which I'd imagine are great for climbing trees and beating other monkeys up) and last but not least my strength is that of a pissed off Godzilla. All this information was founded at my initial visit today. He actually referred to me once as "monkey girl". I didn't mind because it was humorous and i thought to myself "I can't wait to share this" after I eat a banana.
The bed he put me on was one I hadn't seen before, it was standing up right with a foot stool and you stand on it, then he presses a button and it lays you down slowly. However, it made me nervous as it looked similar to what Frankenstein was created on. He could feel my apprehension and answered honestly when I asked him if he was going to kill me. He said no (phew, really dodged a bullet there) and didn't skip a beat when I asked if he was Dr Jekyll.
After being laid out for a couple minutes he started to examine the rest of my hard bod.. allow me to state when i mention my "hard bod" i don't mean i'm fit by any means, i actually quite literaly mean my stone cold, stressed out body parts felt like concrete had been poured into some casper white flesh. this is the point of the visit when i started to think really inappropriately and was only wishing someone else could read my mind and make jokes with me. You cant really blame me though, if a good looking doctor man has his hands on you and says things like "you are so tight, its giving me a real hard time" you're going to giggle.
At the end of the visit I felt totally relaxed, completely limber and when he asked for my contact info you bet your sweet ass I didn't fake number him.
5.23.2012
open mouth, insert fashion.
So I woke up today and decided “I’m going to put some effort into my look today” and grabbed a high waisted red skirt detailed with white roses. There’s some teule on the inside to make it puffy around when I stand. I paired with red high heels and a red sleeveless shirt. I’m feeling pretty confident today, not gonna lie. I grabbed my red purse (sounds like a lot of one color but trust me, I look fabulous) and headed to the office.
I walked in and right away the ladies were telling me how much they loved the outfit…then I was approached and this is how the conversation went.
“oh nichole, your outfit is so friggin cute, I wish I could wear that.”
“oh, thank you. I tried today! Haha”
“well it worked. How did you make it so big?”
“make what big? The skirt? Oh there’s some stuff in their to make it poofy but im pretty sure my butt helps”
“no, no. the back of it. It’s friggin big back there”
“yeah I think that’s just my butt”
“no. it’s too big to be just your butt”
then I placed my hand on my own ass and showed her… ain’t no poofin from the skirt.. this ass was tailored just for me!
as a result, i just ran three miles downtown... in my blackest of black spanx sweatsuit.. only thing left "white" on me was my street smarts.
I walked in and right away the ladies were telling me how much they loved the outfit…then I was approached and this is how the conversation went.
“oh nichole, your outfit is so friggin cute, I wish I could wear that.”
“oh, thank you. I tried today! Haha”
“well it worked. How did you make it so big?”
“make what big? The skirt? Oh there’s some stuff in their to make it poofy but im pretty sure my butt helps”
“no, no. the back of it. It’s friggin big back there”
“yeah I think that’s just my butt”
“no. it’s too big to be just your butt”
then I placed my hand on my own ass and showed her… ain’t no poofin from the skirt.. this ass was tailored just for me!
as a result, i just ran three miles downtown... in my blackest of black spanx sweatsuit.. only thing left "white" on me was my street smarts.
5.21.2012
I should report myself.
I've realized what type of Old Lady I'm going to be today... "The Reporter". In the past couple weeks I've been finding myself saying "oh, someone should report him he's gonna kill someone" or "look at that squirrel, someone should report they're craziness they're gonna hurt someone" or "someone should report that girl's too short shorts.. she'll make someone wanna hurt themself." Thinking about getting old doesn't make me feel good beause i have some serious wrinklage in the middle of my forehead already (as i wrote this, i could feel them getting deeper)
I got to thinking if I was allowed to report all the things that pissed me off. I'd start with Corduroy pants.. mainly when people wear corduroy shorts, or try to cut their pants to make shorts. Especially when worn too tight, the way some thighs hang out near each other those thing would set fire in the summer time. i just imagine the sound of the corduroy rubbing together like a peice of sandpaper sounds on bark. ew.
After my parade of hate for those god awful fashion peices i'd skip to talking in the bathroom. Especially since my most recent encounter in the bathroom was so far past awkward I'd almost rather pee with glass doors. What could make a girl want to pee where everyone could see, you ask? well when one of the women at your office stops to ask if you "if you're okay in there" you may as well be. (just an fyi- i was fixing the belt on my dress as it got tucked into my spanx..that's it.. that's all)
The list goes on and on but I suppose I could cast those judgements on another day. I'd like to be in bed before my clock hits tomorrow.
I got to thinking if I was allowed to report all the things that pissed me off. I'd start with Corduroy pants.. mainly when people wear corduroy shorts, or try to cut their pants to make shorts. Especially when worn too tight, the way some thighs hang out near each other those thing would set fire in the summer time. i just imagine the sound of the corduroy rubbing together like a peice of sandpaper sounds on bark. ew.
After my parade of hate for those god awful fashion peices i'd skip to talking in the bathroom. Especially since my most recent encounter in the bathroom was so far past awkward I'd almost rather pee with glass doors. What could make a girl want to pee where everyone could see, you ask? well when one of the women at your office stops to ask if you "if you're okay in there" you may as well be. (just an fyi- i was fixing the belt on my dress as it got tucked into my spanx..that's it.. that's all)
The list goes on and on but I suppose I could cast those judgements on another day. I'd like to be in bed before my clock hits tomorrow.
5.17.2012
Keep the thunder in the skies- not in my thighs.
Here I am. After so many other attempts - and allow me to clarify that my definition of attempts in this case just means I've thought about it before but never actually put effort forth- I've created a blog. I feel like a hipster. I've never been a hipster, I think you have to some iota of "cool" in you and I don't believe I am. It's kind of nice- I wonder if becoming a hipster automatically makes me a douche bag? I'll check on urbandictionary.com and get back to you.
I've recently started a diet.. you ever wonder why the put the word DIE in it? My conclusion is because it makes you want to kill yourself. So I decided I'm just going to name the process of getting unfat, something fun and catchy so I want to stick with it so I can keep saying it. I've had a couple so far and it always proves to be more successful than finding inner motivation and "self strength" so I've opted for this year's "Keep the thunder in the skies and not in my thighs". I think it has great potential. I was doing great for the first three days, I had my shakes and my healthy snacks but someone made a run to Amato's yesterday and I, being the human garbage dispenser, was given the left overs. I looked like a hungry, angry coyote with fresh prey when I got to my desk to find cheese sticks, marinara galore and pizza rolls sitting on my desk... you could hear the salad I was holding shaking in it's boots. I took one bite and had to throw it in the trash, poor water on it and throw gross thigns on it so I wouldn't be tempted to pull a dumpster dive on myself. Success was mine until someone surprised me with a very delicious, very not part of my healthy meal plan, Butterfinger Blizzard. I then surprised myself with how quickly I ate it. I. have. shamed. myself. As a result of said disgustingness, I'm eating air and water for dinner.
Bon Appetit!
I've recently started a diet.. you ever wonder why the put the word DIE in it? My conclusion is because it makes you want to kill yourself. So I decided I'm just going to name the process of getting unfat, something fun and catchy so I want to stick with it so I can keep saying it. I've had a couple so far and it always proves to be more successful than finding inner motivation and "self strength" so I've opted for this year's "Keep the thunder in the skies and not in my thighs". I think it has great potential. I was doing great for the first three days, I had my shakes and my healthy snacks but someone made a run to Amato's yesterday and I, being the human garbage dispenser, was given the left overs. I looked like a hungry, angry coyote with fresh prey when I got to my desk to find cheese sticks, marinara galore and pizza rolls sitting on my desk... you could hear the salad I was holding shaking in it's boots. I took one bite and had to throw it in the trash, poor water on it and throw gross thigns on it so I wouldn't be tempted to pull a dumpster dive on myself. Success was mine until someone surprised me with a very delicious, very not part of my healthy meal plan, Butterfinger Blizzard. I then surprised myself with how quickly I ate it. I. have. shamed. myself. As a result of said disgustingness, I'm eating air and water for dinner.
Bon Appetit!
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