Arachnid Java?

So I went to make coffee this morning and find a spider in the coffee basket. I am terrified of spiders...like paralyze my muscles and liquefies my innards, but I love coffee. So in order to function, I had to reach in and grab the spider out or have this:

Speaking of liquefying, I went down in the basement to change the laundry over, tried to squeak out a silent fart and shit in my thong...pardon, not in but on. How ironic.  At least I had another load to do.

In my absence I also got a funky, festering, itchy, seeping and oozing case of poison ivy.  Like I had to go to the Dr. and get a prescript. for oral steroids.  I got it looking for gold with the 'Dude'. Seriously, we are gold prospectors. Well not like our day jobs or anything but for a hobby. More on that later. So instead of finding riches, I had to pay out the ass for the Dr. visit, prescription, and the other various creams I had to buy.

The good note is the Audi-Doucher seems to be finally fixed, after the sixth time at the garage. The bad note is the garage owner lent us his Audi A8 so I could drive to work. The second day, the Audi-Douche Part Deux, runs out of gas in my mothertrucking parking lot!!!! Soooooooooooo, long story short, I didn't make it into work that day because O' Jerko, didn't answer his phone and was in another city so he couldn't bring me gas.

I would write more about what has went wrong since I've last posted, but it's depressing me and I think I may have shat my pants again.....

needing panties made out of t.p.,

t.WeeZy!

I'm baaaaaaaaaaack....for a few at least

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

ZZZzzzzzzzz......

For reals....this is why I've been away. Going back to the 830-5 grind buhlows bloated whale wang. I feel like I shuffle out in the wee morn and shuffle back at almost dark. Ugh

Anyone have any tips to make it? Pleaze, I'm dying ya'll.

History Dumbed Down - Sir Isaac Newton

So there was this dude, this ancient dude from way back who was just chillaxin' in Woolsthorpe garden underneath a tree in the shade mindin' his own biz. Reading April's issue of 'Bushy Beavers circa 1666'. Suddenly...boink!

Black&White cuz they didn't have color photos back then, duh

After the apple bopped him on the head, Newton thought, 'Hmmm...some force inside the earth is pulling them down' but Ol' Sir Isaac wasn't the first person to have this thought, nor the second, or the third. However, he was the first to think the moon might fall too, if not for the centrifugal force of it's movement around Earth. Basically the moon would become a huge ass rock ball hurtling to kill mankind.

Thank the Milky Way for centrifugal force



Newton was smart, like big ass brain smart but so were a lot of other people. Have no fear, Sir Newton had shit on lock.

See above. He was the shiznit of smarts. Prolly not so good w/ the chicks though.

Then he went wild and started figuring out all kinds of motion laws. Well at least like 3 of them. Did a lot of speculating and invented Calculus (yes we can all hate Sir Douche for that). Bagged refracting telescopes and made instead reflecting ones. He proved that Earth was not a sphere but an oblate spheroid with flattened ends. He was a pussy though and didn't like to argue his position, reasoning that he was always right. Because of this, he never wanted to get his brain thoughts scribed.

Finally this other guy who you may have heard of, Edward Halley of thee 'Halley's Comet' persuaded him to write it down and after a year it was finally published in 1687. Sir Isaac Newton was knighted at the ripe old age of sixty-two and lived to be eight hundred and fifty years old. Actually he was only eighty-five. You didn't really believe that did you? Shame on you.

Looks like a stuck-up doucher to me and possibly just smelled a fart

In May 2010 a piece of the apple tree that inspired his thoughts was taken into orbit and quote '"I'm pretty sure that Sir Isaac would have loved to see this, assuming he wasn't space sick, as it would have proved his first law of motion to be correct." - Astronaut Peter Sellers.

In the end he died and became worm food. The End.

How do you like dem apples?

Not falling on my head, that's how
-t.WeeZy

 

Lake Lochness in my basement

Children of the Corn, anyone? Srsly, in my backyard.

So I realized as I was looking out my back window that where I live could pretty much be a kick-ass setting for a horror movie. I'm thinking Amish Zombies with Sickles or Mennonite Mafia with Machetes. Either way it'd be pretty damn frightening.

Yes, I'm bored. Yes, I need stimulation.  It's been raining for 24 hours gimme a break. I'm seriously lacking motivation for anything. Help!

Things I've done today:

Fed the kitty a bitchload of catnip

Had the coffee poops

Looked out the door a million times, hoping for the work clothes I ordered to be delivered. Most likely by horse and buggy

Dusted, vacuumed, unloaded/loaded the dishwasher and did the mirrors

Almost showered

Goofed around online (A lot)

Made a partial menu and grocery list for next week

Talked to the 'dude' a few times

Thought about exercising

Cut my bangs (hate 'em)

Worked on writing this post (failing)

Thought about exercising some more

Wet-Vac'ed the flooding basement a bajillion times

I finally got my clothes or at least some of them and I'm sure you can guess that none of the chinos fit. None. Not one fucking pair. I swear to christ on a cracker I have midget legs. They are an illusion, kind of like funhouse mirrors. They don't look short but god forbid I try to buy a regular pant...I'm sportin' bells. If I buy a short...almost high waters. It's a fine line people.

Don't be hatin' on my hair now

Anyways besides getting leg lengthening surgery looks like I'll be shipping those bitches back on my dime.  Hopefully they'll be returned to me before I start work. Otherwise I'll be wearing trash bags.  Why, you might ask? Because I've lost a lot of weight since my last gig. While I'm not complaining, it sucks when you still try and buy clothes online in your 'fat frame of mind.'

Job Lady called and left a message stating she wants me to start earlier than planned.  Good news: I'll get paid sooner. It'll get me out of the house, I'm tired of staring at farmland. I'll get to make 'real' life friends and have something to talk about with the 'dude' other than how many craps I took that day. Bad news: Clothes situation. I was kind of going to enjoy having a few weeks til I go back to the grind.

I guess I'll just suck it up, like the water in the basement and carry on.

Building an Arc

-t.WeeZy



How not to wake me up on Mondays

Pardon me for not writing more today but I was busy googling 'How to get rid of DNA.'

*innocent cough*

The post too boring to name but where I get a job

I'm going to blow off all the stuff I'm supposed to be doing and write this instead. The following post will be all over the place and long, but pay no mind it'll go somewhere, I hope.

First thing on my brain is that the Kashi post seems to be the most popular. Really people, Kashi? Either they are super curious about Kashi or avid haters of the butt-flavored paste marketed as healthy scrotemeal like me. Take your pick.

Also, am I the only one who, when a new person leaves a comment, has to immediately check their blog, read their posts, and then check who they follow, and read their posts, then it becomes a hurricane spiraling into the abyss? Then twenty some odd hours later, when my eyeballs are about to spontaneously combust I remember that I had something to blog about, but by then I'm too tired to even think about it? Curse you funny people! (srsly. I do love the comments though and it gives me more reading material, so thx.)

(A commercial for ChristianMingle.Com just came on and I'm pretty sure that God isn't telling you it's your time to sign up for a dating website. It's probably more like the Devil.)

The major thing I wanted to spout was remember this?  Well if not, go read real quick. I promise it's short AND it contains two pics. The full story:

Interview at 9:30. I show up at 9, have to pee like whoah. Go inside, no bathrooms. Frick! Sit and wait for lady to come and get me. Tickle forms in my throat. You know that tickle, the one that starts in the middle of your throat and works its way up? Yeah that. No water fountains either. So I try and clear my throat, no good. A little cough and then a louder cough. Attracting attention now. Hmmm, thinking. Aha. A stick of gum, genius! Pop it in and begin to chew.

't.Weezy?'

Shit.  I get up and start trying to stick the gum underneath my tongue. The sticky barely chewed gum I might add. I extend my hand and follow her to her office. Exchanging pleasantries ensues. Yada Yada. Read the duties (yes I said duties) and give her my id. 

'I'm not going to be the one interviewing you. I don't know if you've ever applied for a job like this before but you are going to go in front of a panel of 3 people who are going to ask you questions and write down everything you say. They won't be making eye contact with you, it can be intimidating.'

What I heard was: 'You are going to be judged by 3 people who are going to drill you and make you sound like an ass and mimic everything you say. They won't even be paying you any attention, it is extremely asshole clenching intimidating.' I smile wearily. I think okay, at least she warned me so when I come back in for the second interview I know what to expect.

'Let me go see if they're ready for you.'

What. Thee. Fuck. Now?! I still have the gum in my mouth!!! I go to reach for something in my purse to put it in. Fail.

She peeks her head in. 'They're ready.'

Oh joy. I can hardly contain my happiness. I stand up and follow her to my parole hearing interview panel room and see the ladies. Three older ladies. They seem friendly enough. They explain what they will be doing and that I have the questions in front of me, paper, and a pencil if I want to write stuff down. Write stuff down?! Like what? Is there long division? Measurements? I'm doomed. Righty-o.

The Inbetween: I'm not crossing my legs to be lady like, I'm doing it so I don't piss in my tights. Keeping the gum under my tongue while nervously talking takes talent.  Pits dripping rivers in my sweater dress.

The End: I totally shit bombed it. Like flaming napalm shit bomb. They told me it could take up to 4 weeks to hear back.

She called, offered me the job, I took it.

Editor Thought Bubble: I bet the other candidates, like Atom shit bombed it.  Thank the scarecrows for that.

Kashi Redux

Hey, remember how I made a mistake and said kashi oatmeal tasted like sawdust and it wasn't even really kashi and then I apologized to kashi at the end and said it probably tastes better than the other oatmeal and then i wrote a really long run on sentence?

Well, I bought kashi honey and cinnamon today and I was right, it doesn't taste like sawdust!

Taking back my apology

-t.Weezy

Aunt Flo and Cousin Red went to Wal*Fart

I know, I already posted once today. Bite me. It's a funny story..at least to me. Cuz if you don't laugh when things like this happen to you....you might literally crack up.

Had to make a trip to the hillbilly Wal*Fart today, ran out of cotton harpoons. How can you run out of those? You're a girl, you need these every month! To my defense, I thought I had an emergency stash in my purse but I deedent.

Hop in car (that we finally got back after 3 weeks and less $3571 in our checking account) wearing a humongous super-sized mattress in my panties.

Get out of the car, adjust the mattress, and walk into the store. Get harpoons, smaller mattresses, and liners. Spend a small fortune on said items. Realize I need to get a few more items. This can be tricky. Why, you might ask? It's day two. I don't know about you fellow menstraters but for me it's:

Major chance of spillage. I should have played it smart and bought the items first, changed, and then shopped but I was in a hurry. Feel me?  So I make my way over to the food section which is like two football fields away.

*drip drip drip*

Speed up, push that cart like it's NASCAR. Also, activity increases blood flow. Bonus! Make my rounds. Remember I need something at the back of the store. Head that way. It starts to pour outside.

*drip drip drip drip*

Try doing a really long kegel. Fail. Get in the checkout. Lady in front of me drops carton of eggs. How ironic. She apologizes, I give her a little smile but secretly death ray her brains out. I'm bleeding to death here, can we put a rush on it?!? She gets her replacement eggs and leaves. I get rung up. Go to push the cart outside.

*drip drip big 'ol jelly blob* (you're welcome for that visual)

Pray it doesn't slide out. Make it to the door. Monsoon outside. I can stay inside and risk throwing clots or make a dash for it and hope nothing tragic happens. I make for the car. Curse myself for parking far away (to get exercise) Make jerk off hand gesture just for amusement. Throw groceries in the back, shove cart in the corral, and go to slide in the drivers seat. I think I might make it. One leg in and

bleeding to death on the inside

-t.Weezy



Mother of Pearl!

If my neighbors don't stop opening and closing their front door...I swear I will saw the fucker off it's hinges, bitch slap them with it, then slam it on top of their heads and pretend surf the Serengeti with their fat corpses. I just googled Serengeti to see what it was and apparently you can't really 'surf' the Serengeti. It actually looks pretty, pretty, pretty dry there.

So change of plans. Since I can't surf them, maybe I can like paddle their bloated bodies up a small creek or something. What the fuck are they doing? Waiting for a crack delivery for fucks sake? Know what's outside our front doors. Snow and trees. What in thee m effer are you looking at?

Know what else sucks right now? Waiting on a call back for a job. Welcome to the last two days of my life:

Have to take a dump. What if she calls? Take my phone with me. What if I'm in the middle of pushing out a deuce? I'll have to cut it off. She'll hear the echo in the bathroom and know I'm talking to her while on the toilet. I can't flush so I'll have just have to cut it off, dry wipe and move outside the bathroom stealthily. That's a lot of work and Lord knows I don't need any help in the poop anxiety dept.

Need to do laundry. What if she calls? Take my phone with me. What if I drop it in the washer then she tries calling? What if I don't get a signal in the basement. Should I leave it upstairs? What if she calls and I can't hear it because of the washer? Mad dash into the basement without the phone to start load of wash. So preoccupied by thinking about the phone call that I put the detergent in the fabric softener hole. FUCK! Rip that apart, rinse it out and start over. Surely she's called and I've missed it by now.

Nope.

Check phone sixty hundred billion times. Drain battery doing so. Verbally bash anyone that calls who is not the prospective employer. Piss off the 'dude'. Says I'm not paying attention to him talking to me. Ask him to repeat what he just said because I was looking at my phone. Obsess if I wrote the right phone number on my resume. Well no matter, I have my email address on there as well. Obsess if that's wrong too. Check resume. Nope, all good.

Have to go grocery shopping. Get a real shitty signal there. I just know she's going to call. The reception will be all choppy and I'm going to sound like a moron. Screaming 'Hello?! Can you hear me?' into the phone twenty times will surely get me the job. Pull up to the grocery store, wait 20 minutes in the car hoping she will call.

She doesn't call.

Boyfriend breaks up with me because I stop doing any of my girlfriendly duties or taking showers. He moves out. I starve to death because I won't leave the house. Coroner shows up and pries the phone from my cold dead fingers. Still no phone call.

Piss on it. Employment is overrated.

Oh and this 

Digging a hole out back
-t.Weezy

This is what happens when you get a divorce Pt. 1

*slurp* Ahhhhhhhh....just got in from shoveling our parking spot, it blizzerd here last night and sat down to drink my dark sensation hot chocolate, while preparing this post for you lovely folks.  Felt like sharing a little story with you about my youth.

You know...the good 'ol days. Back when it was cool to wear your bathing suit every single day of summer without ever washing it. Crotch rot much? It's a miracle how I never managed to grow one of these in my bathing suit.

Pay no attention to my sweet knees. Also, I'm pretty sure I wasn't that hippy at 9

This story happens in my mothers apartment, well revolves around it..kinda.  When my parents got divorced, (yes I'm one of those kids) my mother moved from our family home into an apartment in a not so great neighborhood.  My brother and I visited her on weekends and shared a bedroom. Saint preserve us.

Our bedroom window faced a 'shady' corner and included a payphone. Now remember, this is back in the day when payphones were the shiznit. So this corner was a happening spot. This may or may not have been due to the payphone and more because of the drug dealers and prostitutes but whatevs. You get the picture.

Sticking our heads out of our window on warm summer nights became our ritual. We'd people watch, cackle, and make fun of the dope dealers and cracked out hoes. One day while performing this activity, I had an epiphany.  If I put my chewed up gum in the coin return people would leave their quarters in there because they wouldn't want to touch my gum. Then after they left, I could sneak across the street and snatch them out. Score!

We thought (well more me than my brother, he was an idiot) that we would have a better chance of not getting get caught if we did it at night under the disguise of darkness. See how smart I was back then?  Darkness ensued and we began to chew.

I figured to my smart little self that I would take the first risk of putting the gum in the slot and that I would force my little brother into picking out the change later. Rationalizing that I'd only have to run across the street once and he would have to make multiple trips. Again, see how smart I was?

Sneaking down the steps and out the door, I slithered across the front porch on my stomach. When I made it to the railing directly across from the payphone I stopped. I was scared. Heck, even being outside after dark was a risk in itself. I had two options really.

1. I could jump up, mad dash across the street, stick gum in slot, and run back inside the house in a span of 20-30 seconds.

OR

2. Slowly stroll across the street, go through the motions of pulling a fake quarter out of my pocket, putting it into the payphone, pretending the call didn't work, press the coin return lever and when I was supposed to be taking the quarter out, I would ingeniously stick the chewed up gum in there instead.

I chose option one.  I sprinted across the street, did the deed, and ran back upstairs to our bedroom window where my brother was waiting. He took one look at my wild eyed maniac face and we both dropped to our beds, howling with neurotic laughter.

Game. On.

Writer Note: I had no idea this story was going to be this long so I decided half way through writing it, that I would break it up into two posts.  Hell, I previewed the post,  and even didn't feel like reading all the way through it. So pork chops and applesauce to you, if you made it to this point. I appreciate you, and really that's all that matters.

ABC Gum
-t.Weezy

Jesus Dots

Me: I feel bad. He'll sit in that apartment and die alone.

Bro: Jesus dot say that

Me: Jesus dots? Are those good?

Bro: Actually...Jesus dots are what the holy rollers call the herpes. So no, they aren't very good.

I have a confession to make

I have issues. Issues in the bathroom. Issues that I was afraid to tell anyone about.  Before I moved in with the 'dude' I lived alone. I liked living alone. Wanna know why? 


I could crap. In the morning, right after waking up. In the middle of the day, WITH the door open. Pretty much I was a free-range crapper, a care-free crapper if you will. I lived the good life. No pressures. I could take a dump whenever the mood struck.


Now? I'm a handi-crapper. I'm cursed. It used to be it only happened when I went away from home. Like to visit family or stay at the 'dudes' house for the weekend. I can remember racing home on Sunday nights, driving the 97 miles at break neck speed, clenching my butt hole the whole way.  It was like as soon as my bowels knew we were headed home to our crapping sanctuary, it wanted to evacuate immediately. Uhhhhhh...no can do friendo. Can't do gas station restrooms either. Pull over and cop a squat? No way, whorehay.


Picture it. Me, the radio blaring, and my asshole clenched to the death, riding the highway of hell. I'd pull into the driveway at break neck speeds, slam it into park, and turtle walk my crap happy self to the throne. Ah business as usual. Then comes the joy of playing catch up the next couple of days.


So back to me now living with the 'dude'. It's uhh been interesting. I've had to employ various strategies to disguise my poopies. If some of you are unfamiliar, let me help you get familiar.


There are different kinds of shy poopers. Imma break it down. We have the:


Shy Butt: Described as the inability to drop a deuce with anyone else in the house. This also leads to other issues. Such as making me do a:


Shit and Brush: Which is the act of pretending to be brushing your teeth when you are actually dropping brownies.  I have done this act of shame many many times. Usually when there is more than 1 person in the house. This takes a bit of practice to get the flush just right.


Shy Poopie:  Described as, feeling you need to poop but you just sit on the toilet unable to go. Usually happens when I'm being rushed to go somewhere.  Then I get into a panic that I can't go now and will have an episode when I'm out later. Mostly causes constipation.


Flusher: Act of using the noise of the flush to disguise the sounds of crapping. Frequently happens in public restrooms. If you were in the restroom with me, you might hear my toilet flush 2 or 3 times and me quietly saying 'Damn automatic flushers!'. I have also employed this tactic at home. Warning..you can usually only pull off 2 flushes and get away with it here.


This one goes along with the:


Closet Crapper: The ability to only crap when you are in the public restroom alone. Which sometimes, as we all know can lead to some real quality toilet sitting time. I usually pick the last stall in the row. That way I only have to worry about one stall beside me. This can cause serious issues if you run into another Closet Crapper. Then you'll have to revert to being the Flusher or playing 'who can stay in the stall the longest and wait it out.'


So if any of these relate to you, you are NOT alone! Handi-Crappers Unite!


Update: During the writing of this post, I have crapped 3 times. I also timed the shits to him shooting in C.O.D. I guess you could say I'm partly healed or a genius. 


Happy Crapping!
-t.weezy

Whore*Moans

Know what I hate:

THIS

Didn't we just do this like 28 some odd days ago. Shit's getting old. Now please, go sell crazy some place else, we're all filled up here.

I was ambushed yesterday!

ME:

More on this later, I am bitchass tired.

Oh and you guys are totally 16 bitches on bitch bike for not doing my coffeethingie.

Doesn't matter anyway, after I douched that parole hearing interview, I used the card and bought myself a huge ol coffee as a pick-me-up.

Ta-Ta!

Teaching my dad to text < Anything

Just picking my nose sitting on the couch minding my own and I hear a familiar chime:

Dad: Hello hun. Wanted to let you know i have free texting. So text away. Love you.

Me: Cool beans, love you too.

Dad: Thank you

Me: For?

My phone rings, it's my dad. 'What's up and what are you thanking me for?'

'For telling me you loved me too and I just thought I'd call you. It's a lot easier and I don't get this whole texting thing.'

'Uh then why did you add unlimited texting...never mind.' Hang up.

Dad: Hi Weasel. What ya doing? (he calls me weasel, hence t. weezy...t is my first initial)

Me: Sitting here eating cupcakes (yes the raw batter ones) What about you?

Dad: Just finished eating prime rib. Wished i had a cupcake.

Me: Wish I had prime rib :)

Phone rings. It's Dad

Me: I'm making dinner, Dad.

Him: Sorry. Just wanted to know how you made the smiley face.

(Ohmygeeze no he didn't)

Him: o o         .  u  .-------- What do u think of this? LOL!

(I have no idea what to think of that, I don't even know what it is)

Me: It's okay I was just letting you know why I couldn't answer the phone.

Him: O. K. Call when your finished. (Are you kidding me!!!?!?)

Me: You use the colon : and then the parentheses ) together, like this :)

Him: I can't find the paranthesis. Don't even know how to spell it. (what the cuss...shoot me now pls)

Him: Found it. : )

Me: Cool

Him: Way

I was raised by this person?  Well that explains a lot.

Sidenote: The job interview went swell (still one to go tomorrow) AND the Starbucks giveaway is still going on...I guess no one really does like free coffee and now you're like 12 bitches in a bitch bus.

I'd rather be eating brains

But instead I've been using an image editor all day rather than spending time with the 'dude'. He's pretty pissed at me, but I'm happy and that's all that really matters. Besides I already gave him Valentine's Day sex twice today, so in my book I should be pissed at him or something like that. And he totally didn't get me this card that would totally showcase his love/zombie hunger for me.  Jerkface

Nor did he get me a bag of these sweet Reality Hearts:

And he certainly didn't take me shopping here:

So in the end, I think he should be happy I spent almost an entire day online making this blog and reading other blogs..pretty much being an Anti-Valentine Day supporter instead of bitching at him for not doing those things.

Side note: I leaned over to ask him a question and he answered me by burp talking in my face.

Me: Why did you just burp talk in my face? Is it because I farted on your wang a few days ago?

Him: Yep, I'm totally hung up on that. 

See? Jerkface

Also don't forget about my Starbucks giveaway. Unless you don't like free coffee, then you're like 8 bitches in a bitch boat.

Sweet Mojo CoffeeMochaJesus (don't pay attention to the words before this)

Remember when I posted about these  jobs? I quickly canned the whole working with sex offender, thing. Although on second thought it could have provided me with a shit ton of writing material and/or ritual rapings but I digress.

While I was waiting to hear from the other job for crappier pay, I got a call for another job that pays about 6k more. So now I have 2 interviews scheduled for next week.  Good mojo would be mucho appreciated.

Also because it's the heart holiday tomorrow and I feel lovey (or woozy from licking raw batter), I will be giving away a gift card to Starbucks* on Wednesday.

If you'd like to be entered to win, it's simple:
If you follow me you get 2 entries
If you Twitter about this post you get 1 entry
If you link to this post in your blog you get 1 entry
And if you comment on this post and tell me how awesome I am, you get 1 entry and I may not murder your face!(totally kidding)

Make sure you leave me a comment telling me you have done so, so I can tally up the points. Then I will hold the drawing on Wednesday the 16th (with photographic) evidence and name the lucky schmo. Sweet deal, eh?

If you hate giveaways, as I usually do (who doesn't like or could use free coffee tho), then don't do anything and ignore this post. Except the part about sending me good mojo. Don't be a total ass maggot, k?


*Disclaimer: I was not paid to do this post nor was the gift card provided to giveaway. I bought the card. Starbucks gift card total value: Five whopping American dollars!

This one time I licked raw batter...and forgot what I was going to post

I want to start this post by saying that Kashi blueberry oatmeal tastes a lot like sawdust with a singular dehydrated blueberry thrown in for taste. Vom.

Also, how is it that every time I make cupcakes I think the batter looks different and somehow I've made it wrong? I use the god damn same cupcake mix every time! The entire time I'm mixing it, I'm thinking, this looks too runny, they are going to turn out terrible. I have some major cupcake making anxiety. Running to check them every five minutes. They always turn out da bomb diggity but still....there could be that one time they sneak a secret ingredient in and then the 'dude' will be all like, 'Uh these are disgusting, what the hell?'

Also I'm bad with measurements, like really bad. Like remember when in school they had those measurement word problems? I took one look and already knew I was fucked, so I just doodled in the margins and made farting noises with my mouth. Okay I didn't do the last one, but I thought about it.

Me today while making cupcakes: 'Is 1/3 bigger than 1/4?'

Him: 'You're kidding right? You asked me this the last time. You really don't know?'

Me: 'Uh no I didn't ask you that. I asked which was bigger 3/4 or 1/4. Duh. Now who's the retard and maybe if someone bought me measuring cups we wouldn't have to go through this every time.'

Really people. I do not need the added stress.  Then you get to: fill the cups 2/3 full. For the love of all things holy!  Do you fill the cups with 2/3 cup of mixture? How exactly are you supposed to find out what 2/3 of a paper cupcake liner is? Do you measure the length of the liner with a ruler and then figure out what 2/3 of that is? Why is this so difficult?

This wasn't supposed to be a post about baking cupcakes but life is weird..for real.  I mean look how hard it is just to bake cupcakes....*sigh*

Also while baking the second batch I accidentally licked my finger that had batter on it. I'm may be dying as I type this. I mean it says right on the box: 'DO NOT LICK THE RAW BATTER OFF OF YOUR FINGER OR YOU WILL DIE' or something really close to that. Immediately I spat in the sink, grabbed the nearest paper towel (that probably had raw batter on it from when I wiped the counter down) and started jumping up and down screaming.

The 'dude' looks at me, rolls his eyes and continues to murder people in his little fake war. Like really? You see your girlfriend, clutching a paper towel to her tongue and screaming and you don't say anything!?! I could have bitten my tongue off, or sliced it on a knife. The fact that I didn't do any of this is regardless. Finally I take the paper towel away and yell, 'I licked my finger that had raw batter on it!' His reply? 'Gargle with Clorox.' Srsly. He should really start sleeping with one eye open.

Update: The oatmeal brand was not Kashi , so I apologize to the makers of Kashi for saying their blueberry oatmeal tasted like sawdust. I'm pretty sure Kashi tastes a lot better than sawdust. Well, like 17% sure.

Back to the reason for the post....well I forgot the reason and it's most likely because I licked that raw batter.

Update: The Vegetable Assassin totally dissed my measuring skills. Rad!

I flashed Wal*Fart today

Insert SD card.

         Scanning Media for Images....................


BLAM!



What the cuss people? Why does this shit happen to me? Eighty bajillion pics on the SD card and this is the first one that pops up? Yeah. Cool. Lest I remind you dear folk, I live in Amish & Mennonite country. I could have been burned at the stake or a barn raising. Whatev.

Have you ever used one of these machines?  You try and press the cancel button and the little sand timer pops up, it freezes and won't do anything. My pits start to sweat, my mouth goes dry as people start to walk behind me. I cough really loud, jump up, and lean across the computer monitor, laying my arm conspicuously across the offending image. I start jamming my index finger on the cancel button so fucking hard it almost breaks.  I dart my eyes back and forth looking for a god damn power cord. I will shut. this. bitch. down.

I'm pretty for certain that alarm bells and whistles are going to go off and a bunch of guys with walkie-talkies and ear bud thingies are going to start sprinting over to me and take me away like the perv I am.  I contemplate yelling 'THIEF!' at the top of my lungs and pointing in the direction of the old lady that just walked past me thus diverting attention away from my person. What? She probably did steal anyways...little old people are like that.

What feels like eleventy thousand hours later, pictures minus the wang are printed and paid for. Situation lockdown.

Me: Guess what I just did?

Dude: No.

Me: Well it could have made you famous. Well if a porno director happened to be walking by.

Dude: What did you do?

Me: I used the instant photo printer and your wang popped up right on the big 'ol screen.

Dude: You have dick pics on your camera?

Me: Duh! You were there when I took them. Why aren't you laughing? It was hysterical.

Silence. Shifty eyes.

I know what ya'll are thinking. Like you haven't ever taken wang pics? Geesh.

Crappin' on dangly bits & Texts from Bro Namath

Me to the 'dude' this evening while I'm sitting on his lap:

'Have you ever crapped on your wang when you were like taking a dump?'

'What?'

'You know, has crap ever gotten on your junk?'

Thinks for a moment. 'No.' (I can't even believe he can keep a straight face when I ask him questions like this.  He doesn't even ask the thought process it has taken me to get to this point.) It's cool though, I am kind enough to inform him. I return to running my fingers through his hair.

'Cuz you know I was thinking about if a girl has ever crapped on her tampon string.'

Now he gives me a 'what the cuss' look.

'Well, it is in sorta the same spot. It could happen. Like when you have explosive diarrhea.'

Srsly. I've put waaaay to much time into this thought. I really want to know. So if anyone has and wants to fess up, I'm all comment ears.

Now on to the latest greats from my younger bigger brother:

Me: Hey remember when you had a rat tail?

This could of been my brother*

Him: Hells yeah!

Me: I was telling the dude and he was like no way, and I said oh yes. Didn't you have a mullet too?

Him: All not my choice by the way but I was pretty BADASS if you ask me.

Me: Yeah you rocked those cut-off shirts and short shorts from the 80's too.

Him: I left dad to wear the cut-offs so short that not only were the pockets hanging out of the bottoms but you could also catch a glimpse of his ball fro from time to time. But let's not forget the fact that they were so tight, you could not only count how much change was in his pockets, tell if they were heads or tails, but almost be able to make out the year on the quarters.

Me: I almost threw up. Srsly.

Him: Welcome to my world, just don't do it in the shower. You might pass out and shit on yourself.

Me: Stop I can't breathe

Him: That's how it starts, next thing you know your laying in the rubble of what's left of your bathroom crapping out what looks like chicken broth cause your body has nothing left but vital nutrients your brain obviously isn't getting cause it's confused and has now decided it's a good idea to evacuate them out of your sore, angry, probably bleeding asshole allowing you to feel the sting of sweet relief.

People...dear people, I wish everyone knew the likes of my brother. Through the passage of time and his texts..you will.

You can thank me for it later.

I'll leave with this tidbit for next time I do a Texts From Bro Namath:

Him: You ever been able to tell what color your poop is by the feel of it?

I kid you not.

*image



It's another F.Y.M. (cheers and applause)

Welcome to more things I want to say Fuck off too:

Previous version here

*Fuck you to the Audi, who sits dead in the driveway (piece of shit euro-trash whore)

*Fuck you universe for sending me two call backs & then having the car break down

*Fuck you enchilada I just ate for wreaking havoc in my stomach (n'vrmind, problem solved)

*Fuck you bloody harpoons, I mean who wants to piss on a string & THEN put it back into your panties??

(Has anyone ever crapped on it, ugh wait, I don't want an answer to that)

*Fuck you to riding a cotton pony, holding a bloody sponge against your genitals? G, thnx.

*Fuck you to my period while I'm at it. The whole process is unnerving.

I think I'm just going to dig a hole out back and squat over that for a week.

*Fuck you to t.v. shows for creating drama in the last 3 minutes of the show and then making me wait a week to find out it was utter bullshit anyways!

*Fuck you to the 'girl' who took my interview survey, bitch...get a new attitude STAT

*Fuck you to my brain for not wanting to work right now

Usually I have a shit ton of stuff to say Fuck you too, but now other stresses are taking precedence so I'm going to leave you lovely people with this fact of knowledge:

If you see me behind you in the passing lane on your ass MOVE THE FUCK OVER!

Dipshit.

Aunt Flo & Sex Offenders...*shakes head*

I haven't dipped in these waters for awhile because I was worried about that whole 'might be infected with a fetus thing' remember? Yeah well guess what?

You can thank me for that image later.  It's Saturday here in shitsville and I'm just sitting here drinking coffee, reading Bicycling mag, watching the tube and wishing that I didn't buy a Glade air freshner that smells really similiar to Raid bug spray.  I'm so close to chucking that thing.  God damn cleansing rain my ass. Smells more like 'Cockroach Killer'.

Annnnnnnnnnnnd I'm back, sorry I had to go and dye the toilet water red. Anybleedingtodeath, I haven't told you all that I have two job interviews. I don't even think I mentioned that I was unemployed. Now you know that I sit on the couch wearing sweats, watching Springer, and shoveling bon-bons in my pie hole all day. (Is Springer even on anymore?)

Job 1: Life Skills Worker

Crap pay

Midnight shift

Basically sit around all night

 I'd be working with habitual sex offenders

ALONE

Job 2: Clerk Typist for a Gov't Agency

Crappier pay

Day shift

Basically sit around all day

I'd be working with the mentally disabled

I need a job and I'd rather not work in 'Uncle Touchy's Puzzle Basement', spank you very much. Okay this post has taken me a shit ton of time to write and it's really boring so Imma wrap it short. Here's a quick story: The 'dude' went to go snow shoeing (ghey) and got the Audi stuck in the snow in the process he pretty much fucked the transmission and not like in he humped it, more like it won't go in reverse anymore. Splendid.

(found here)

And no, I didn't poison his coffee...just felt like I wanted to for awhile. And just for good measure because I want to remind you:

Peace & I'm Audi 5000 G....(only not in reverse, basterd)

PMS or Positive Pregnancy Test?

Yeeeeeeeep, that's me the last few days. I don't even know how the 'dude' hasn't either A. Murdered me, B. Burned me at the stake, or C. Just plain kicked my ass out in the frecking cold. Oh I know why. It's because I'm hawt. Srsly, I'm pretty good looking. It's sad that my cartoon stick figures don't do me justice, but I've been pulled over by the cops for a P.C. If you don't know what that means, I'll help ya out. A P.C. is called a pussy check, means the dudes in blue pulled me over to check me out. (remind me to tell you the story later)

I have been one big azz beeeyotch. Some demon has taken a hold of my insides and decided to camp out. I can't even stand myself. I've eaten my weight in chocolate. Chocolate fudge cupcakes, Reese's peanut butter eggs, twix, and I've taken to hiding pop tarts in my purse...Seriously, what in thee fuck?! How bad is it? The 'dude' has gone hiking twice this weekend. It's 9F degrees out. *deadpan face* Poor guy. I might also mention I did this to him.

Soooo anyalmostcutyourfaceoff, he doesn't hate me (YET) and for that I love him.  I wish Aunt Flo would just arrive so I could get off this roller coaster of hell and so this isn't the case.



Relax, that isn't mine and hopefully won't be. Still have a few days to figure it out. Either the red dam breaks loose or our life breaks loose.  We don't want anymore child of the corns running around 'round here. I highly doubt there's an alien in my womb but it's possible.  *Rant* Why are PMS symptoms and possible pregnancy symptoms almost exactly alike?!!! Are they trying to kill me?  I think as soon as your egg is penetrated, alarm bells, whistles, and lights should go off. !!Warning Warning: You Are Pregnant!! None of this wait weeks bullcripe.

It's got this girl wanting to whip out a magnifying glass and check the toilet paper for traces of blood. I'm like CSI up in there. For realz.

So that's my weekend in a nutshell. Hope you had a good one and it didn't involve pregnancy scares or blood!!!

How to Get Fired From Your J.O.B.!

You can find a metric sh*t ton of articles on how to get a job, how to pimp yourself out for a job keep your job, how to network, blah blah blah..But what if you hate your job? What if you'd rather contract syphilis AND gonorrhea then show up to work another day?  What if you suffer from full-blown anxiety attacks during your daily commute?  What do you do if  the thought of slaving away at your place of employment makes you projectile vomit split pea soup? Here are some surefire ways to get fired from your job*:

When the boss tells you to do something super important right away, yell back, 'I'll get right on that, right after I update my Facebook status!'

Instead of candy on your desk replace it with a bowl of condoms and pamphlets for Planned Parenthood.

Two words. Ass-less chaps.

Send out a mass email of a pic of your genitals or tits. (This may also get you dates, a promotion, and/or a sexual harassment case) A threefor!

Change your voicemail greeting to, 'Hi this is Sandra in accounting, please leave a message after the beep, so I can erase the hell out of it, cause I don't care. Now get off my phone, Goodbye'. Or a combo of various burps and farts. I would say audio of you having sex but then people would never stop calling you. Pervos!

Use the office copier to make copies of your dollar bills and then use those to jam up all the snack machines in the lunch room.

Print out a copy of your resume and change your duties to 'kissing ass, doing other people's jobs because they are too stupid to do them, surfing porn, and masturbating in the bathroom', then leave it there.

Scratch your crotch a lot and mumble...'damn hooker swore she was clean'.

Dress up as The Grim Reaper and stand behind your co-worker without saying anything. Every once in awhile, tap them on the shoulder with your scythe and laugh maniacally.

And my personal favorite, which I have done on numerous occasions. Stay up 'til dick knows what time watching The First 48 because every time a new episode comes on you have to stay up to see who did it.  Then when your boss calls to see why you aren't at work, scream, 'The crack made me do it!' into the phone and hang up.

(click pic to enlarge)

AND

(click pic to enlarge)

*if you used any of these ideas and they worked......You're welcome.

Gotta Say....

Things I'd like to say fuck off too:

*Fuck you to the jerks who take up two parking spots

*Fuck you to sick people who cough/sneeze near me w/out covering their mouth

*Fuck you to our cat who is inconsiderate to our sleeping habits and decides to destroy stuff at 4am

*Fuck you to the retail clerks who ignore me to help someone who interrupts on the phone

*ALSO a big Fuck you to the retail clerks who ignore me to chat up co-workers about things they hate about their job. HOW ABOUT DO YOUR FUCKING JOB!!!!

*Fuck you to the string on my shirt that when pulled, didn't break, just got longer

*Fuck you to the people who will write something borderline mean on facef*ck and then follow it up with a :) face. JUST WRITE WHAT YOU MEAN FUCKER!!!!

*Fuck you to the ragers who beep their horn at me nano seconds after the light turns green

*Fuck you to the person who farts in an elevator before me and then the next person who comes in thinks it was me

*Fuck you to the 'dude' who thinks my tits are stress balls and squeezes them accordingly like it's supposed to turn me on and then gets upset when it doesn't. Are you gonna pop a boner if I squeeze the sh*t outta your balls? Didn't think so fucker.

*Fuck you to the people who love to point out how wrong everyone else is while they are a walking train wreck. LOSER, FUCK YOU!!!

*Fuck you to the people who stop right in the middle of the doorway exit when leaving a store. What the fuck is up with this phenom? Can't you move over to the side and stop? JERK!

*Fuck you to the Amish horse and buggy's leaving your shit all over the roads leaving me to drive through it. I think they should have a clean up after your horse law. Get a huge ass garbage bag and a shovel, motherfucker! Stop being Amish while you're at it.

*Fuck you to the utility companies who raise your rates but start it with 'In order to serve you better..' Here's how you can serve me better..Lower the FUCKING rates assholes! That'd help me.

*Fuck you to the douche bags who text in the movie theater when it's dark so that instead of seeing the screen I have a bright spot in my line of vision.

So that's my piece for Monday...what do you want to say Fuck You too?

I'm a lonely little petunia...

If you will it Dude, it is no dream. ( quoting Walter Sobchak from here). Folks if you haven't seen that movie, DO IT!!!  Swear to Jesus it's f*cking fantastic.  What I'm blathering about is my lack of followers.  Eh, I know Whiney McWhinerson and true that my blog has only been up for a week or so and true that I may not even be remotely funny to others. Who cares!!!!!
I'm one of those instant gratification types, soooo doesn't go over well sometimes.  Quick question while it's on my mind.  Does anyone else when taking showers home alone, randomly yell out 'Hello?' every time they think they hear a noise? 

I don't even know what I'm expecting in return. Or why I do it. Maybe I think that if a serial killer hears my friendly hello he won't murder me.  Makes taking a shower realllllllllly long and by the time I'm done, the floors soaking wet and all the hot water is gone.

One of these days there really is going to be a creeper standing in the hallway staring back at me and then I'll sh*t myself.  Watch horror movies much? Moi? Nah. So does anyone else do this? Anybostonstraggler... 

Back to not having any followers, I was thinking that if I made up a faker profile and followed myself that others would not feel like such a douche for being my first follower,  but that just seemed all kinds of pathetic and I canned that.  Then I thought maybe if I threw some kind of give away that would attract some people, right? Even if they were the type of people who only followed me to get free sh*t. Followers are followers. I quickly realized that's kinda like pimping myself out. Not that I completely object to that idea, but if I did I want to at least want to get paid for it yo.  Azz, cash, or grass ('cept I don't smoke) so maybe a sweet bottle of wine?

Is it totally(ahem, Linda) sad that I liken acquiring a follower to this

(found here)

You like me, you really like me!  But seriously, what did you guys do to obtain followers? Bribes, trickery, make up fake profiles??? Any info. would be greatly acknowledged....and heck I still might even do a give away. (and I promise it's not to get your addresses and stalk you while you're in the shower)