Better than anti-depressants! … Sort of.
Monthly Archives: March 2011
March 10, 2011Posted by on
Let me tell you about the nice little conversation I had with one of today’s prized youth. Who I should mention was all hopped up on Mountain Dew (or something) and had eyes as wide as teacup saucers.
Basically, I wanted to jump over the counter and strangle him but then I remembered that I would never survive in prison because I could not be someone’s “bitch” and I’d end up saying something stupid (shocker there) and get shanked.
7-11 boy: You look tired
Me: *eye roll* Gee thanks. I am.
7-11: you also look cold… but you’re getting a Slurpee?
Me: well you’re just an everyday Sherlock Holmes now aren’tcha? (you little crack head)
7-11: Who’s that? oh well my mom taught me to always comment women. Nice huh?
Me: For Fuck’s sake. I think she meant COMPLIMENT and by the way that doesn’t mean you should be Captain Obvious.
7-11: (head tilt)
Me: and also, “you look tired” actually translates directly to “you look like spilt fuck” … just FYI. Did your mom teach you that? Did she?
7-11: umm no. OH!!! I LOOOOOVE this song. I sang it at prom with a bunch of people around me. They were throwing roses at me even. That was the good old days. I miss them!!
(great now I’m being served by Justin Beiber with bad grammar)
Me: I hated high school but it’s good to know that there are actually people out there that enjoyed the experience.
7-11: Yes it was great. I was really popular.
Me: oh…. (long pause)… yes…. because that’s what’s important.
7-11: Yes it is REALLY important. You don’t understand the pressure on kids these days.
Me: as opposed to the pressure when?
7-11: you know, when you were a kid.
(don’t strangle him, don’t strangle him, don’t strangle him)
Me: give me my goddamn receipt. NOW.
7-11: Have a nice day! I hope you get some sleep
(Me too kid, me too)
* Note to self: Slurpee addiction must be fulfilled at a DIFFERENT 7-11. For eternity.
March 9, 2011Posted by on
March 8, 2011Posted by on
They say a lot of things about me. Mostly that I SHOULD think before I speak…
that would however, pretty much eliminate the element of surprise I like to feel when stupid shit comes flying out of my mouth.
March 8, 2011Posted by on
Napkins used after eating hot wings and then shoved in your pocket should NEVER be used as toilet paper no matter how much you’ve had to drink!!
March 7, 2011Posted by on
The building smells like spray paint. Or paint thinner or something of the likes and I am not only having a worser migraine now but also I might be a teensy bit high.
(my point here is that I cannot be held responsible for anything I’m about to say)
Back to my highness… I think, somehow that already makes me a bad mom. My kid’s going to come out with a third arm or an extra pinky finger growing off it’s forehead like a unicorn or something. Why? All because I got all floaty at work from the fumes!! It’s totally cool though because I always wanted a unicorn.
Funny story about that. I always asked for a pony instead, even though what I really wanted was a unicorn. I just thought they would be a tad too expensive for my parents to afford, ponies are much more reasonable.
I figured if nothing else, I could just glue a Bugle on it’s head and call it a unicorn. You know? That’s what NPH would do. He’s a problem solver like me. But these days I don’t think he’d do anything except for try to smoke or sex that Bugle… Don’t get me wrong, I love NPH but … he’s a little less sane than he used to be. Something about all the pressure of being a doctor at such a young age… I don’t really know because when I was 16, I was hardly saving people’s lives.
(he’d put a Bugle on that shit, that’s what!)
I digress. as usual. see how this euphoria is causing an out-of-character-like ADD?
So… How nice of me, I was willing to compromise. And you know what? No unicorn, no pony. Which, is apparently a direct. Or indirect cause for my failing at motherhood. Already. But on the bright side of things, I’m totally going to get that Unicorn for real.
Also, I read somewhere that this is how they impregnate rabid monkeys! Yeah they fill the room with smoke/fumes/rohypnol/spray paint/paint thinner whatever they can find really and knock ’em out. What happens there is a case for Animal Investigators because I think maybe they’re not supposed to do that. The knocking out part or the raping. Just my guess though. Who knows, maybe it’s ok since they have rabies…??? Weird. I need some water…
Here’s my unicorn. Love him. or her. I can’t see it’s business to tell you.
March 4, 2011Posted by on
Whenever I am somewhere in the house doing anything and I hear my all-time favorite commercial come on TV I literally have to drop everything I am doing to run in and watch it. It’s like crack. Except not whack. And I wouldn’t sell myself for it. Probably. Well maybe I would if the TV simultaneously popped out cups of Dippin Dots ice cream at me because THOSE are actually almost the same as crack.
Apparently I am alone in this feeling or at least Lobster and his buddies tell me I am but seriously, how can you miss your favorite commercial?! It would be like depriving me of my daily chocolate dose or my Sanity-Slurpees.
For real thouh y’all, I don’t know who Geico pays for their PR and Marketing but they are certainly getting their money’s worth because 2 of my favorite commercials belong to them and I come running to watch every.single.fucking.time they air. Every time.
And yes I am an adult, I just don’t act like one. (Lobster made a stupid ass point about how only children run in to watch stupid shit and then I might have gotten a little defensive and said something like “oh yeah well only losers like to eat Fritos and Worchestershire sauce together… no one can even pronounce that shit) So anyway, I don’t act like an adult. Very often. Except when I need to tell little kids that if they pee on the toilet seat the toilet fairy will know and find them in their sleep and steal their genitals and devour them like a sandwich. A delicious, genital-y sandwich. (genital-y? I don’t know I just made that shit up)
My all-time favorite: Wweeeeeeeeee!!!!
And also, my other favorite… basically I don’t get shit done because I’m always running to watch commercials.
UPDATED: I can’t believe I almost forgot… so I was telling my sister how much I lOVE, LOVE, LOVE the little piggy commercial and she told me she heard someone had it as a ringtone. Ringtone?!? DUH!!!! Holy.monkey.balls. I NEEEEED this right?!?! So apparently you can download that shit for free from Geico!!! Here it is in case you also love this commercial as much as I do (or any of their others because they are ALL there)
March 2, 2011Posted by on
If you are my Mother-in-law, I’d just like to say HI! Stop here now. There is nothing further to read. At all. No really. Go have some ice cream. Bye!!!
(And also, if you KNOW her… don’t you go telling her that there’s anything beyond “Hi” here for her. Or I will find you. I will find you and cut you. Hard. Because I’m like Charlie Sheen. Except without certain anatomy and a little less drunk (did I mention I WISH I was drunk though?))
Ok now that she’s gone I have to tell you about the fact that she thinks I’m a whale. A fucking whale. I know right? Ok here’s how it goes:
freaking out about learning about this pregnancy and baby stuff. I know, I know, you’re going “Duh” right about now. I get it. But seriously, you don’t know the torture involved and as if I don’t feel fat enough? My mother-in-law actually tells me I am. We she didn’t say it but you know, she did something that basically says “you’re one huge slurpee away from going to fat camp”
So you’re wondering what she did? Sigh… she goes out and buys me a couple maternity tops. Awww, bless her heart, that’s so nice and shit. Yeah shit. Precisely how I feel. You see I am not yet quite fat enough for the Queen Latifah clothes – she looks good now, I know but think back a few years ok – I’m just making a point here. So I don’t look pregnant I just LOOK like I had too many deep fried corn fritters.. Hmm… corn fritters. Oh.right.get.to.it…. anyway… So I hadn’t gone out and even looked at maternity clothes yet but her being the nice crazy lady that she is, she buys me some.
Well, I don’t know if she got the memo about how you buy your PRE-PREGNANCY size or what, I’m hoping that she doesn’t know that because otherwise she has some sort of asshole preconceived notion that I am hiding a very large woman in me somewhere. She buys me 4 tops, all extra large. Ok before you get all offended, please know that I find nothing wrong with XL at all. I admire curvy women – well except when you bitch and complain that you can’t wear a bikini while you gargle a Big Mac and suck down a Big Gulp-sized chocolate shake… I digress again…
Here’s the part where I have to swallow my pride. When I got pregnant I was between 130 and 135lbs. Not anorexic but definitely a happy size 3-5 (oh my god… yes I STILL buy my clothes in the juniors section, I’m struggling with the fact that I’m older than 25…BITE ME) So here we go. According to nearly every single maternity sizing guide I can find I would be a medium at most. Now I don’t know if you know this or not, clearly my MIL is part of the not… but apparently there is a big difference between medium and extra large in maternity world. By that I mean that the tops she bought me, would be big for DRESSES on me. I look like I’ve devolved into a 6 year-old dressing up in my
mom’s Dad’s clothes. Exactly how big does this lady think I am?!?
The best part is that she told me that when she shops for clothes for me she “just holds them up and looks at them and goes with what “looks right’” so I’m wondering what the fuck must be going through her mind when she holds up this muumuu and thinks it will look great on me? Well… looks like I’m on my own for maternity clothes because my MIL thinks I’m a big gigantic cow. Moooooooooo.
p.s. – I bought some maternity clothes for myself, all sized medium of course and you know what?? They FIT. Not like a glove or anything because they aren’t made for people in the ‘awkward’ stage but they FIT nonetheless and you won’t have to search for me under YARDS and YARDS of fabric like a macaroni noodle in a table cloth.
p.p.s – If you did actually read this Marty, please don’t take me out of your will. I need your lifetime supply of dollar-bin gifts and also your coupons. Just sayin’