It's probably one of those things I'll never understand fully because I do not have children (and have no intention of ever having any). Still, I can't help but be puzzled by people who treat their infants like older kids.
I get halloween. It's fun. It's cute. I'll never tire of seeing my nieces in costume. Still, I don't understand why parents dress their newborns up and take them trick-or-treating. The kid's never going to remember the holiday, and they can't enjoy the candy. What, is it really because the adults want the candy? Then go out and fucking buy some!
ok, that was way harsh. Sorry.
I just don't understand it.
It's like a coworker of mine who insisted he have Christmas eve and day off so he could be with his 2-week-old on her first christmas. Hell, you could skip the holiday entirely and the kid would never know!
Seriously, parents-- help me understand this phenomenon!
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Teach a man to shop, and you'll find yourself using more profanity daily.
"Honey, I went to that super-awesome shopping site you showed me the other day. You know, the one that has a couple of great specials daily? Well, I bought a couple of things, one's great, the other you may get mad about..."
"oh, please don't say you bought the bulbs"
"I got these LED lightbulbs, 4 for $10! Such a good deal, I bought 8!"
"You realize those are only 15-watt equivalent, right? Good as nightlights and that's it."
"But they're cheap! And look just like the ones you freaked out over in the store the other day, but THOSE were $15 each! We just got 8 for $20, plus shipping!"
"..."
"sigh"
"So, what was the 'bad' purchase?"
"Oh. I also got an unused Israli gasmask for $17."
"SWEET! FUCK YEAH!!!"
"oh, please don't say you bought the bulbs"
"I got these LED lightbulbs, 4 for $10! Such a good deal, I bought 8!"
"You realize those are only 15-watt equivalent, right? Good as nightlights and that's it."
"But they're cheap! And look just like the ones you freaked out over in the store the other day, but THOSE were $15 each! We just got 8 for $20, plus shipping!"
"..."
"sigh"
"So, what was the 'bad' purchase?"
"Oh. I also got an unused Israli gasmask for $17."
"SWEET! FUCK YEAH!!!"
Friday, October 14, 2011
Is it because he feels pretty?
While on vacation for a week, the dogs stayed at a boarding kennel. I'd have liked to take them along, but honestly....yeah. no. Between the two of them, I have one perfect traveling companion. Unfortunately, I can't just butcher two canines and hope my sewing skills are adequate enough to form a single living being.
THAT'S RIGHT, WORLD! I AM FEMALE, AND CANNOT CREATE A LIVING BEING WITH THREAD AND PUPPIES!
Ahem.
Anyway, back to the dogs. The beagle is great in cars, he loves going for rides. Unfortunately, he cannot be trusted alone in a hotel room or vehicle (not that I'd want to leave him in the car, but sometimes you do have to gas up or go to the bathroom...) The minute there is a barrier between him and the person he's with, the howling begins. And continues. We're talking hours here, folks. I could be gone for eight hours, and by the time I came back, he'd still be barking and crying his little head off, even with a throat so hoarse it sounds like I beat him on a regular basis. Which sometimes I have considered.
That, and he trashes wherever he is when left alone. Can't kennel the little bastard either, because he destroys kennels. Seriously, this dog is great as long as you NEVER LEAVE HIM ALONE.
Thankfully, we've come up with a solution to the dog who cannot be left alone: Zuul. This hairy mutt (we think it's a dog, but that's very debatable) for some reason calms Charlie down. He can even be in a kennel, and Charlie running loose, but for some reason Charlie barely even howls, and rarely destroys things. It's odd, but I'll take it.
That being said, charlie *does* bark enough when left home alone that I'm confident in saying he'd get us kicked out of our hotel if we ever left him there. And bringing Zuul along is out of the question anyway, since he goes all Alderaan and leaves explosion bits in his wake. Not pretty, I assure you.
Ohmygosh, this has been an insane introduction. Sorry! Back to the story:
So, dogs stayed at a boarding kennel for a week in the middle of nowhere. After picking them up, they staaaaaaaank to high heaven. Seeing how Zuul was also due for a grooming session (keeping the dingleberries and cockleburs to a minimum is always a good thing), I just dropped them off at their hairdresser, leaving instructions to give them full brazilians.
Here's what mystifies me, though. After I brought the freshly-groomed mutts back home, they decided it was time for a sex session. That lasted for HOURS. HOURS, PEOPLE!!
I wonder if it's because they both feel pretty, or because of their brush with almost certain death (aka a bath and haircut, as well as two car rides).
Thoughts?
THAT'S RIGHT, WORLD! I AM FEMALE, AND CANNOT CREATE A LIVING BEING WITH THREAD AND PUPPIES!
Ahem.
Anyway, back to the dogs. The beagle is great in cars, he loves going for rides. Unfortunately, he cannot be trusted alone in a hotel room or vehicle (not that I'd want to leave him in the car, but sometimes you do have to gas up or go to the bathroom...) The minute there is a barrier between him and the person he's with, the howling begins. And continues. We're talking hours here, folks. I could be gone for eight hours, and by the time I came back, he'd still be barking and crying his little head off, even with a throat so hoarse it sounds like I beat him on a regular basis. Which sometimes I have considered.
That, and he trashes wherever he is when left alone. Can't kennel the little bastard either, because he destroys kennels. Seriously, this dog is great as long as you NEVER LEAVE HIM ALONE.
Thankfully, we've come up with a solution to the dog who cannot be left alone: Zuul. This hairy mutt (we think it's a dog, but that's very debatable) for some reason calms Charlie down. He can even be in a kennel, and Charlie running loose, but for some reason Charlie barely even howls, and rarely destroys things. It's odd, but I'll take it.
That being said, charlie *does* bark enough when left home alone that I'm confident in saying he'd get us kicked out of our hotel if we ever left him there. And bringing Zuul along is out of the question anyway, since he goes all Alderaan and leaves explosion bits in his wake. Not pretty, I assure you.
Ohmygosh, this has been an insane introduction. Sorry! Back to the story:
So, dogs stayed at a boarding kennel for a week in the middle of nowhere. After picking them up, they staaaaaaaank to high heaven. Seeing how Zuul was also due for a grooming session (keeping the dingleberries and cockleburs to a minimum is always a good thing), I just dropped them off at their hairdresser, leaving instructions to give them full brazilians.
Here's what mystifies me, though. After I brought the freshly-groomed mutts back home, they decided it was time for a sex session. That lasted for HOURS. HOURS, PEOPLE!!
I wonder if it's because they both feel pretty, or because of their brush with almost certain death (aka a bath and haircut, as well as two car rides).
Thoughts?
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Perils of groceries
Conversation at the checkout:
Cashier: Oh, you must be having a cocktail party?
Me: hm?
Cashier gestures to the numerous bottles of wine, crackers, and wafer cookies
Me: Oh, no. I just like wine and my husband loves cookies.
Probably should reconsider my standard grocery list.
Guess it's not much of a conversation, but enjoy.
Definitely getting into that wine on my next day off...
Cashier: Oh, you must be having a cocktail party?
Me: hm?
Cashier gestures to the numerous bottles of wine, crackers, and wafer cookies
Me: Oh, no. I just like wine and my husband loves cookies.
Probably should reconsider my standard grocery list.
Guess it's not much of a conversation, but enjoy.
Definitely getting into that wine on my next day off...
Monday, October 3, 2011
Never trust a beagle.
I've finally realized why Sir Charles of Chunk's diet has been working so well, and mine has not. HE IS A SHITTY DIET COMPANION.
I'm all like, "Here is your food for today. Enjoy it, buddy."
He, on the other hand, is all "Oh my gosh you're in the kitchen!! I love the kitchen! Let's have food! I do a cute and goofy dance and then you can reward me with a treat like these cookies riiiiiiiiight over here. See? Yummy! Now drop one, woman." And Zuul wanders in all "can has'ing?" but his anus explodes violently every time he eats anything, and rather than make him sad by giving charles a cookie and not Zuul, I just eat the entire fucking bag to destroy the temptation.
FAIL.
I'm all like, "Here is your food for today. Enjoy it, buddy."
He, on the other hand, is all "Oh my gosh you're in the kitchen!! I love the kitchen! Let's have food! I do a cute and goofy dance and then you can reward me with a treat like these cookies riiiiiiiiight over here. See? Yummy! Now drop one, woman." And Zuul wanders in all "can has'ing?" but his anus explodes violently every time he eats anything, and rather than make him sad by giving charles a cookie and not Zuul, I just eat the entire fucking bag to destroy the temptation.
FAIL.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Probably should skip this one...getting a little serious
I realized while watching 50/50 tonight that perhaps I need movies.
It's no shocker, really. I tend to use movie references more than real-life ones, and have actually seen 97% of all* theater-bound films in the last five years. Is that bad?
The thing is, I fail at emotions. Ask Teh Geek, ask my disciple. They'll agree with me on this one. Whatever emotions DO surface, are usually the most inappropriate ones for each situation. Or dramatic overreactions that I cannot control. Also, I am the worst crier ever, but more on that another day.
As I was watching tonight's story play out, it suddenly hit me: movies teach me (and presumably people like me) about all this emotional mumbo-jumbo. It's like training for real life, but in 90-120 minute installments. Each one encompasses a longer span of time, fast-forwarding through a series of situations or events, and you see the protagonist and his merry men act through life, demonstrating how to respond according to each situation. They cry. The music swells, you cry. They smile, you dry your eyes and smile too. Logically, you should not be responding alongside them, as you shouldn't be so deeply emotionally invested in their lives. You've only been a part for an hour, after all.
Meh. Enough of this crap. Movie was decent, albeit predictable. I think that's what I say after every single show I see. Still fits, I suppose. Wonder if I passed tonight's "class."
*this statistic is totally made up on the spot, but I'd be willing to bet that it's pretty damn close to reality. Seriously, I've seen nearly everything. Even The Creature, which has gone down in history as one of the lowest-grossing theatrical releases of all time.
It's no shocker, really. I tend to use movie references more than real-life ones, and have actually seen 97% of all* theater-bound films in the last five years. Is that bad?
The thing is, I fail at emotions. Ask Teh Geek, ask my disciple. They'll agree with me on this one. Whatever emotions DO surface, are usually the most inappropriate ones for each situation. Or dramatic overreactions that I cannot control. Also, I am the worst crier ever, but more on that another day.
As I was watching tonight's story play out, it suddenly hit me: movies teach me (and presumably people like me) about all this emotional mumbo-jumbo. It's like training for real life, but in 90-120 minute installments. Each one encompasses a longer span of time, fast-forwarding through a series of situations or events, and you see the protagonist and his merry men act through life, demonstrating how to respond according to each situation. They cry. The music swells, you cry. They smile, you dry your eyes and smile too. Logically, you should not be responding alongside them, as you shouldn't be so deeply emotionally invested in their lives. You've only been a part for an hour, after all.
Meh. Enough of this crap. Movie was decent, albeit predictable. I think that's what I say after every single show I see. Still fits, I suppose. Wonder if I passed tonight's "class."
*this statistic is totally made up on the spot, but I'd be willing to bet that it's pretty damn close to reality. Seriously, I've seen nearly everything. Even The Creature, which has gone down in history as one of the lowest-grossing theatrical releases of all time.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
We all stink
I would like to know why men wear masculine cologne, and women wear this pretty floral perfume crap. If I'm going to spend all this time sniffing Teh Geek, and it's obvious his manly scent comes from a bottle, then why shouldn't I *want* him to smell all pretty? I cannot stop huffing this new perfume I got, but chances are he doesn't give a rat's ass about this, let alone how pretty it smells. So why do I even bother spraying myself with it? I'll just rub some bacon grease on my neck (and elbows while I'm at it-- that stuff has to work wonders for dry skin!), and spritz him with something pretty, and BAM! We'd be all over each other.
Right?
Right?
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
I AM NOT BITCHY!
I've been busy being totally grouchy lately, but it's entirely Teh Geek's fault. For reals, people. He dared to go out with his buddy last night for a couple of drinks while *I* had to work, and thus couldn't come along. AND on top of it, he was all "I'm calling you to tell you I love you and see how your night's going" at like, 10:30 at night, which is when he knows I'm almost always available to ta lk but not lately because 10:15 is the new 10:30 at work, and by 10:30 I'm around people and socializing is completely unacceptable. Which is why I've been pissy.
MY FUCKING HUSBAND CALLED TO TELL ME HE LOVES ME.
what a douchebag.
MY FUCKING HUSBAND CALLED TO TELL ME HE LOVES ME.
what a douchebag.
And this is why I fail at blogs
So, I tend to write entries on scrap paper at work, and then am too lazy/forget to actually type them into this handy little box when I'm near my computer screen. Soooooo, here comes a dump of 3 of the less-sucky entries. Woot!
I've been an utter bum this week (like most weeks really)
I blame it on the world...OF WARCRAFT!!
And Felicia Day. She, Jeff Lewis (aka Vork), and I were chilling most of the weekend. And by "most of the weekend," I mean for like 75 whole seconds. And by chilling I mean "I followed them onto and escalator and TOTALLY bumped into Jeff Lewis and gave him my spot so I could ride in the back (what's up now, Rosa Parks?!) and stare at them both and I SWEAR I wasn't stalking them at the time so they can totally drop the restraining order so I can continue to send Jeff myused socks undies LETTERS. Fanmail, people!
And that's my shitty story. I have a photo to prove it. But again I'm lazy, and too lazy in fact to post it up on here. Ok, fine. Brace yourself for awesomeness.
...
ok, I couldn't find the photo after a whole 35 seconds of browsing, I think it's still on my phone, not in the batch I transferred. Fail.
In the meantime, enjoy this other image from comic-con chicago (holla!)
ahh, Leia. Classic.
I've been an utter bum this week (like most weeks really)
I blame it on the world...OF WARCRAFT!!
And Felicia Day. She, Jeff Lewis (aka Vork), and I were chilling most of the weekend. And by "most of the weekend," I mean for like 75 whole seconds. And by chilling I mean "I followed them onto and escalator and TOTALLY bumped into Jeff Lewis and gave him my spot so I could ride in the back (what's up now, Rosa Parks?!) and stare at them both and I SWEAR I wasn't stalking them at the time so they can totally drop the restraining order so I can continue to send Jeff my
And that's my shitty story. I have a photo to prove it. But again I'm lazy, and too lazy in fact to post it up on here. Ok, fine. Brace yourself for awesomeness.
...
ok, I couldn't find the photo after a whole 35 seconds of browsing, I think it's still on my phone, not in the batch I transferred. Fail.
In the meantime, enjoy this other image from comic-con chicago (holla!)
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Three.
Three.
That is the number of times I've shoved my toes up my dog's ass tonight, because the little fucker won't stop from laying under my desk, just out of eyesight, with his butt right in front of my feet. STREEEEETCHHOLYSHITTHAT'SYOURANUS.
And he doesn't even flinch.
That is the number of times I've shoved my toes up my dog's ass tonight, because the little fucker won't stop from laying under my desk, just out of eyesight, with his butt right in front of my feet. STREEEEETCHHOLYSHITTHAT'SYOURANUS.
And he doesn't even flinch.
Makeup. I got it.
With a WHOLE day to spend doing whatever the fuck I want (well, I should be cleaning and trying to sell some the mountains of junk around here that Teh Geek and I seem to secrete, but whatever), I ended up cleaning out an old makeup bag. Which resulted in me spending half the afternoon sitting in front of Dr. Phil (Seriously, never watched that shizz before, but he was talking about mail-order brides, and our new neighbor down the street's getting one and I'm all like "maybe I'm jumping to conclusions here and completely misinformed about this whole process, so PLEASE DR. PHIL-- FILL ME IN ON THE INFORMATIONS!")
So, yeah, never watching that shit again. Not my thing. Is he even a real doctor?
Back to the story, though. Watching Phil, and was like "I haven't done full makeup in forever!"
I usually do minimal eyes and lips, screw foundation and heavy shit. I suck at it, and it just looks goofy. So, with overstuffed bag in hand, I plopped down to goth out while 65-year-olds claimed they were 45 and truly, madly in love with these 22-year-olds they'd never met, but they must be wonderful because they're eastern european and ALL eastern european women are perfect. DAMMIT, I NEED TO MOVE TO TRANSYLVANIA OR WHATEVER SO I CAN START BEING PERFECT!!
Right as I'm putting the final touches of eyeliner around my cheekbones, Geek calls. Turns out the office is going out for dinner, and he's picking me up soon. Oh, and I'm also in a bridesmaid's dress that I'll be shredding for a zombie ball this weekend, but that's another story. Shit. Want to be all "Surprise! I'm gothy and pretty!" but he'll probably be in a hurry. Well, DEAL WITH IT, GEEK. YOU'LL JUST HAVE TO WAIT WHILE I TAKE OFF MY MAKEUP AND BECOME PRESENTABLE, that way I can jump out and surprise you with how lovely I am today. And remind you why I should be a stay-at-home wife. Dammit, I really need to move to transylvania. And then I can be a trophy wife, rather than the consolation ribbon I am now. At least he entered the contest, folks.
Anyone else have days like this?
So, yeah, never watching that shit again. Not my thing. Is he even a real doctor?
Back to the story, though. Watching Phil, and was like "I haven't done full makeup in forever!"
I usually do minimal eyes and lips, screw foundation and heavy shit. I suck at it, and it just looks goofy. So, with overstuffed bag in hand, I plopped down to goth out while 65-year-olds claimed they were 45 and truly, madly in love with these 22-year-olds they'd never met, but they must be wonderful because they're eastern european and ALL eastern european women are perfect. DAMMIT, I NEED TO MOVE TO TRANSYLVANIA OR WHATEVER SO I CAN START BEING PERFECT!!
Right as I'm putting the final touches of eyeliner around my cheekbones, Geek calls. Turns out the office is going out for dinner, and he's picking me up soon. Oh, and I'm also in a bridesmaid's dress that I'll be shredding for a zombie ball this weekend, but that's another story. Shit. Want to be all "Surprise! I'm gothy and pretty!" but he'll probably be in a hurry. Well, DEAL WITH IT, GEEK. YOU'LL JUST HAVE TO WAIT WHILE I TAKE OFF MY MAKEUP AND BECOME PRESENTABLE, that way I can jump out and surprise you with how lovely I am today. And remind you why I should be a stay-at-home wife. Dammit, I really need to move to transylvania. And then I can be a trophy wife, rather than the consolation ribbon I am now. At least he entered the contest, folks.
Anyone else have days like this?
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
ok, but where do the arm holes go?
HOLY CRAPULATING POO BUCKETS.'
LONGEST. DAY. EVAR.
It probably would go by faster if I actually did work, but that's sooooooooooo boooooooooooooooooooring. We're raising a nation of fucking pansies, why can't I be one from time to time? A pansy, that is. Not a nation. My ass may be ginormous, but not *that* big. C'mon, people!
Because I've never raised a single human offspring, I'm totally qualified to criticize America's parenting skills (collectively, of course. What kind of generalizing monster do you take me for?!)
These purple mountain magesties SUCK- they should just start shipping tykes off so they can build me some comfy-ass shoes, because that's really what I need- SOME DAMN MOTHER FUCKING COMFY SHOES THAT LOOK AWESOME. You know how hard it is to find 10W shoes that are cute? Yeah, thought so. They don't exist!
So, I guess the moral of that story is start popping out kids so they can become cobblers that work for free. And grow shoe-making material, because I'm a cheapass who isn't about to start providing it. Maybe we can genetically engineer these kids to just grow shoe material off their elbows or something? Kind of like an extra fingernail, but more useful.
Well? Get on it!
LONGEST. DAY. EVAR.
It probably would go by faster if I actually did work, but that's sooooooooooo boooooooooooooooooooring. We're raising a nation of fucking pansies, why can't I be one from time to time? A pansy, that is. Not a nation. My ass may be ginormous, but not *that* big. C'mon, people!
Because I've never raised a single human offspring, I'm totally qualified to criticize America's parenting skills (collectively, of course. What kind of generalizing monster do you take me for?!)
These purple mountain magesties SUCK- they should just start shipping tykes off so they can build me some comfy-ass shoes, because that's really what I need- SOME DAMN MOTHER FUCKING COMFY SHOES THAT LOOK AWESOME. You know how hard it is to find 10W shoes that are cute? Yeah, thought so. They don't exist!
So, I guess the moral of that story is start popping out kids so they can become cobblers that work for free. And grow shoe-making material, because I'm a cheapass who isn't about to start providing it. Maybe we can genetically engineer these kids to just grow shoe material off their elbows or something? Kind of like an extra fingernail, but more useful.
Well? Get on it!
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Cute, but watch out in the boob area
Confession time: the title of this post is what my browser wanted to put in. Firefox, wtf?! Apparently I wrote that at some point in time, but I have no fucking clue when or why. Must've been drunk.
Moving on: How to impress your date, volume 1
Around our forth or fifth date (or as I like to call them, "hang out sessions" Dating's such a WORD), Teh Geek turned to me and asked out of the blue, "Have you ever heard of Asperger Syndrome?"
...
(note: I'd worked at a camp for special-needs kids one summer to help pay forgeneral fuckery school. Yes, very familiar with Asperger's)
Me: ....why....?
Him: Well, don't be offended or anything, but I was a psych major, and you may want to see someone, like a specialist.
Me: Wait, you think *I* have Asperger's?
Geek: Don't get all riled up! I just meant that sometimes you're, well, uh, you know what, forget I said anything.
Aaaand I proceeded to guilt trip him over it for the rest of the night. And bring it up whenever suits my needs, because hey, I'm female. I'm pretty sure it's physically impossible for anyone of my gender to actually let things go, especially when it comes to someone ELSE fucking up.
Yep, that's pretty much how it went down, more or less. Then again, that was a few years ago and my brain's pretty fuzzy and honestly, most shit is an exaggeration on here but YOU GET THE IDEA .
BTW- I married this man. Who thinks I have mild autism. Holla!
Moving on: How to impress your date, volume 1
Around our forth or fifth date (or as I like to call them, "hang out sessions" Dating's such a WORD), Teh Geek turned to me and asked out of the blue, "Have you ever heard of Asperger Syndrome?"
...
(note: I'd worked at a camp for special-needs kids one summer to help pay for
Me: ....why....?
Him: Well, don't be offended or anything, but I was a psych major, and you may want to see someone, like a specialist.
Me: Wait, you think *I* have Asperger's?
Geek: Don't get all riled up! I just meant that sometimes you're, well, uh, you know what, forget I said anything.
Aaaand I proceeded to guilt trip him over it for the rest of the night. And bring it up whenever suits my needs, because hey, I'm female. I'm pretty sure it's physically impossible for anyone of my gender to actually let things go, especially when it comes to someone ELSE fucking up.
Yep, that's pretty much how it went down, more or less. Then again, that was a few years ago and my brain's pretty fuzzy and honestly, most shit is an exaggeration on here but YOU GET THE IDEA .
BTW- I married this man. Who thinks I have mild autism. Holla!
Thank goodness I got that damn intro out of the way
That shit suuuuuucks.
Know what else sucks? Jobs. I currently get paid to hide out in the dark,playing on my phone and reading blogs monitoring expensive equipment and doing super-important things like tweezing my eyebrows and fixing shit when it inevitably hits the fan because I've neglected it (that eyebrow hair won't groom itself, people!!). Thankfully, my company employs people to take complaints from customers who realize someone's been fucking around and gone and let something dumb break. Darn dumb things, always breaking and ruining my blog-reading sessions!
Which is why I've decided- rather than pay me to be at work doing nothing, why not pay me to be at home with my pants off, drinking wine (or vodka...shh- don't tell my mom!) and gaming?! That way at least I can neglect everything at my leisure, and let's face it- I'm much more pleasant to be around when I've been boozing it up. At work I'm just a grouchy bitch (what's with this "sober in the workplace" attitude, anyway AMERICA?)
So, dearest company, I humbly request you pay me to stay home and the heck away from your shizz. And possibly drunk-dial you on occassion. You can totally drunk dial me back, that's cool. We could have phonesex later or something.
Also, what happened to my pants?
Know what else sucks? Jobs. I currently get paid to hide out in the dark,
Which is why I've decided- rather than pay me to be at work doing nothing, why not pay me to be at home with my pants off, drinking wine (or vodka...shh- don't tell my mom!) and gaming?! That way at least I can neglect everything at my leisure, and let's face it- I'm much more pleasant to be around when I've been boozing it up. At work I'm just a grouchy bitch (what's with this "sober in the workplace" attitude, anyway AMERICA?)
So, dearest company, I humbly request you pay me to stay home and the heck away from your shizz. And possibly drunk-dial you on occassion. You can totally drunk dial me back, that's cool. We could have phonesex later or something.
Also, what happened to my pants?
Whelp, let's give this a go.
Ever have one of those days when you realize you're in a place, becoming a person you hate? Yep. Finally hit that. So, without further ado, here's my attempt at digging myself out. No negativity here, only subjects that 1.) make me laugh, 2.) might make others laugh (at my expense, but that's totally fair game...I'm pretty much an idiot, after all), or 3.) brings forth a simple smile. Or encourages thought and all that bullshit. Whatever.
There are some pretty brilliant people out on the interwebs writing their hearts out, and I'm not about to become one of them. This is just going to be a forum for me to work through some of the insanity I've got going on, as well as a chance to hopefully make someone else laugh. Oh, yeah. And I've got to write at least 3 times a week. No guidelines, and I'll be ditching this faster than that 8-am calculus class freshman year (what kind of person even CONSIDERS creating a class like that at that hour?!)
[/bullshit obligatory intro]
There are some pretty brilliant people out on the interwebs writing their hearts out, and I'm not about to become one of them. This is just going to be a forum for me to work through some of the insanity I've got going on, as well as a chance to hopefully make someone else laugh. Oh, yeah. And I've got to write at least 3 times a week. No guidelines, and I'll be ditching this faster than that 8-am calculus class freshman year (what kind of person even CONSIDERS creating a class like that at that hour?!)
[/bullshit obligatory intro]
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