Friday, January 29, 2010

Why ask why...try Bud Dry....(which totally tastes like shit, but that commercial was popular for a while, I guess....or not....)

Why is it that the social norms of adults in the workplace so closely mirror that of 13-year-old girls in junior high?

Why is it that I can purchase a single beer which you totally know I'm going to drink as soon as I get in my car, but I can't buy an open container?

Why is it that nobody on the face of the planet (except maybe the people who work in the factory and package them) knows how to fold a fitted sheet?

Why do all MapQuest directions start with you getting out of your driveway? I'm pretty sure I've got that down, thanks.

Why don't obituaries tell you how the person died? Because you know that's totally the only reason people read them. (Okay, maybe the only reason I read them....)

Why is it that, when people call me and I just barely miss their call on the last ring, they never answer when I call them right back? What? Did you drop your phone as soon as I didn't answer and run away??

Why is it I never see anyone important when I'm dressed in a killer outfit, have perfect hair and great makeup, but if I run to Target in my pj's and no makeup without taking a shower, I see 87 people I know?

Why is the #2 pencil THE pencil you must use on the forms with the little bubbles to fill in? Can they tell if it's a different pencil?? Do they even make pencils with other numbers?

Why do old men grow hair out of their ears, but lose hair from their head? Is it actually getting sucked back into their scalp and then pushed out of their ears instead?

And finally:

Why am I at work when I haven't actually been "working"? Does that still count as a "workday" for me?

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Did you hear the one about the couple who were parking and heard this noise on the top of their car and come to find out it was a dead body!?!?

I'm a little scared of big boobs.

Really...I am. Especially naked ones because they have huge scary nipples. *retch*

Boobs don't run in our family, so it's not something I grew up with, you know? In my family, we're more "ass girls", which in turn, makes our men "ass guys"...which is as it should be.

Why do I have boobs on the brain?? Well, I went to happy hour yesterday with a group of girls from work. One of the women there was talking about her big boobs and complaining because insurance won't cover her breast reduction. (which is total bullshit in my opinion, but I don't really understand insurance, so I am not sure I have an argument as to why it's just is.)

And it occurred to me....I will NEVER have to worry about this. EVER.

And then I got curious and wanted to know just how big these puppies were. I mean, I could see them (nicely covered in bra and shirt...not naked....with big gross nipples *retch*) and they didn't look overly gigantic or how bad could this be??

Um, I'm going to go with "pretty fucking bad".....BECAUSE HER BRA SIZE WAS A "G"!!!

A "G"!?!?!

Wow. I honestly didn't even know such a thing existed. Honestly.

Then there were terms thrown around like "under-boob sweat" and "double G" and "barnacles"....and I've got to admit, I got a little scared.

And then the boob urban legends started.

"A "G"!?! G's not so big. I knew this girl in high school whose older sister was a triple F!!!" or "I knew this girl who had to special-order her bras because her boobs were so big and they cost like $2000 EACH!!" and then "OHMIGOD! You should have seen my girlfriend's when she was breastfeeding! She's normally like a DDD, but she told me her nursing bras were a HHH and that her husband used to put them on his head and run around the house screaming that the alien invasion had finally happened!!!!"

"Boob urban legends" don't hear that everyday, now do you?

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

It's totally awesome that you can wine-taste, sample foods, buy toilet paper and go to the doctor all in the same place.

It's been a while, I's just hard to be funny when you're sick. Which I have been....and still kinda am. And I mean, like sick sick--like fever, chills, sneezing, coughing, stuffy head, fever so you can rest medicine (sorry....couldn't help but throw the Nyquil commercial quote in there). Which was funny...and true. Sidebar: how fucking great is Nyquil?? If you take Nyquil, you can sleep through sex with your husband, your kids screaming in the middle of the night and a terrorist invasion into your house. (Which I may have done in the past couple of weeks of being sick....well, not the terrorist invasion part, but the other parts--maybe.)

But I was totally saved by modern medication and the oh-so-convenient-grocery-store RediClinic. kinda felt like going to the doctor's office in a McDonald's or something, but hey...the antibiotics and allergy meds worked, so this girl ain't complainin'.

I did try to get in with my regular doctor, but the dude who answers his phones was all "Um so what time would you like to come in on Tuesday?" and I was all "Dude. It's Friday morning...I'll be dead by Tuesday....and then that shit is on your conscience for, like, ever." And he really had no response to that, so I totally won.

Anyway, so RediClinic, it was.

And we did the whole doctor routine. EXCEPT! She didn't weigh me, but asked me how much I weighed! I know! Isn't that awesome?!?! So of course, I was totally honest and said "Oh, well I used to be 130, but you know having kids and now, let's see...I'm probably right around 145." AND SHE BOUGHT IT!!!! I don't think I've weighed 145 since middle school....but Ms. RediClinic was all "Oh, okay cool". Hell to the yes!!!

But then, she got all stalker-ish (probably because I have only gained 15 pounds since having kids and am still a total hottie...duh) and called me on Monday to "see how I was feeling and if there was anything else I needed". Um....are you going to like ask me out or something because this is a little weird for me?? I mean, you looked up my nose and shit.

And, as Heather from Fuckbook can tell you, that's just really not how I roll.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

There is no title for this post....once you read it, you'll understand why.

Okay, before I start today's posting, I need to tell all of you faithful readers that for some reason, I "double blogged" on Friday, January 15. I don't know how or why this happened...the best I can figure is that I started one blog, but decided I didn't like it, so when I went back to fix it later, after posting the 2nd blog entry, it appeared with the same date. Clear as mud? Yeah, so anyway, read the 2nd entry for 1/15 if you haven't yet. Double your pleasure and all's like a double-mint commercial without twins....

Next thing I need to let you know is that this post may not be so entertaining for dudes. So if you're a dude and you don't like to talk about vaginas--here's 2 things:
1. You might be gay....I'm just sayin'. What straight guy doesn't like to talk about vaginas?
and 2. This post is all about the va-jay-jay, so feel free to pass on by this blog post. I won't get pissed, I swear.

So's the question for the day: When did the girly wallet go bald??


I missed this newscast or fashion trend or whatever you want to call it. Back in the day, the vagina came complete with it's own 'fro. Now? That is a huge faux pas. At the very least, women are expected to be neatly trimmed (which is my personal you're welcome).
Regardless of your opinion on natural vs. shaved, I'm just curious to know HOW this all came about?? Do we blame the supermodels?? (skinny bitches...they're just so easy to blame for shit) Or female athletes becoming more publicly recognized?? (no one wants to see the swimmers or gymnasts with a little pube action coming out of their suit--I get that). Or was it something else?? Did all the dudes in the world suddenly get together and say "Hey, we're tired of the whole 'hair in the mouth' thing...we should tell our girlfriends/wives that we think it would be totally hot for them to shave down there".

Why did we fall for THAT?!?! Did we not stop to consider the consequences of said shaving??

As in: RAZOR BURN!!!

I think we did this to ourselves ladies. We have now set up the expectation of the hairless hoo-ha and we're paying the price.

Don't even get me started on all you crazy-ass mother truckers who WAX. The privacies should never be exposed to anything hotter than bath water. I saw 40 Year Old Virgin....not just "no", but "HELL NO".

Thinking in my head: Steve Carell yelling "Kelly Clarkson!!" when they ripped the wax off his chest! LMAO!!!

Friday, January 15, 2010

I'm pretty sure this is proof that I'm in charge--I'm the only one who can find shit in our house

So my husband texts me this morning.

Him to me: Where are my ski pants?
My thoughts: Ski pants? WTF? Are you suddenly in Colorado on a mountain somewhere and find yourself lacking pants? I have no fucking clue where they are...nor do I care because you've obviously taken a vacation without me and I'm totally stuck at work. Jerk.
Me to him: I think they're in your drawer with your socks.
Him to me (a bit later): I just found them in the top of the closet.
My thoughts: Oh yeeeaahh...that's where I put them. Now I remember....I was in a cleaning frenzy because we were having company and I needed to get all the shit off the floor so I could vacuum for the first time in like 6 months so I threw a big pile of your clothes into the top of the closet. But when did you even GET ski pants?!?
Me to him: I told you they were in the top of the closet.
Him to me: Yeah, I guess I just forgot what you said.

I think I detected a hint of sarcasm in that last text.

Enjoy your ski trip, asshole.

We're gonna party like it's 1999!

Oh I love's my favorite day of the week. Really. I know, I know...most people prefer Saturday or Sunday because you have nothing to do and get to sleep in or whatever. Not me. Friday is my day!

I was born on a Friday, so we've like had a thing since 1979.

And you know what's weird? My sister was born on a Friday, too! No wonder we like to party so much. It's in our genes, man! (Yes, I know that the day you were born on has absolutely nothing to do with your genetic makeup....duh....what do you think I am? An idiot?? Dude. I watch CSI and shit.).

But we are partiers in our family. Sidebar: I'm not even sure that "partiers" is a word...maybe it's "partyers", that doesn't look right. Oh well, whatever...I can use made-up words if I want to.

Moving on. So yeah, we do like to party, have fun, get down with it, or whatever you want to call it. Pretty much my rule is simple...if it's not going to be fun, I'm not in. That's it. Bottom line. It's a pretty sweet rule...and was much easier to live my life by when I was single. Now, I have to think about responsibility or whatever. Which has led to us going out less, but you know, they still don't let you take kids in a bar....(that's it, I'm writing my legislator! Yes, I'm totally kidding....).

Then: going out meant black shirt or tank top and jeans--this totally still applies today.
Then: we were always in separate vehicles because my husband worked until 8:00 some nights and we would meet at the bar. Plus, it was totally convenient that he happened to have a job that involved a car-hauling trailer hooked onto his truck. That way, when I got shitfaced, he could just load my truck up onto the trailer and take me and the truck home. But I swear Mom, that only happened like once....
Then: the plan was always to spend the least amount of money possible--this sort of still applies. But then, I was skinny and hot, so this referred to me getting as many free drinks as possible from other dudes in the bar. I know....I'm awesome. That's just economical drinking right there.....(what's that you say? "Tease"? Me?!! Never!!!)
Then: close down the karaoke bar at midnight, the pool hall/dive bar at 2 am and then after party at the strip club (hey, don't get all "hoity toity" with me....they serve beer until 4 am dude!).
Then: home at daylight, sleep for a couple of hours and go to work.


Our house (so we don't have to drive anywhere), friends over, case of beer, food, spades/dominoes/football/bullshitting by the fire or any mix of those activities, done by 11:00. And then we have to sleep late the next morning because we stayed up soooo late!!!

Dammit. Now I feel old.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Go tweet yourself....or don't....because I don't think anybody's really reading that shit anyway.

I totally have "Party in the USA" stuck in my head right now...the curse of being down the hall from the dance room.

Which has absolutely nothing to do with anything, but is what is going on with me.

And let's face it, that's what this whole flippin' blog is about, right?

Is that selfish of me? Probably. I actually think that "presumptuous" is a more apt description. I'm presuming that you want to read shit about my life...and worse? I'm presuming that you'll think it's funny! Which, if you think about it, is kind of lame of me. I mean, everyone hates that guy at the party who is so freakin' amused by himself you feel like asking if him and himself would like to be alone because no one else seems to get his jokes. No one wants to be that guy...

...and I think I've become that guy. Or girl, actually.

Maybe I'm not so bad off yet...I do blog and I do Facebook, BUT I don't Twitter...which I think is the top of the "I think that everyone wants to know what I am doing or thinking about RIGHT THIS VERY MOMENT" mountain. Seriously. Okay, okay....I'll wait to rant until you "TwitFreaks" or "TweetFreaks" or whatever the hell you call yourselves have left the building.....

da da da da, da da daaaa, da da da da DUM, da da da da da da.... (um yeah, this is totally the Jeopardy song from the Final Jeopardy thing. Doesn't so much translate to typing, does it?)

All gone, then??

Okay good. So Twitter. How self-centered is this whole thing?? Like everyone wants to know what you're doing every minute of every day??!?! WTF??!?! Like "I just went to the bathroom" is newsworthy?!?! "I just went to the bathroom and now I am walking back to my cubicle at work. That is all." or "I think that I will eat Chinese food for lunch because noodles sound tasty right now." or "I just got out of class and am now going to my apartment to take a nap." LAME.

I happen to think the only people who might actually need a Twitter feed are celebs. I mean, let's face many of you could Tweet "Had a blast in Vegas partying at Tao for my b-day. Flying to LA for a photo shoot and then headed to NYC for a movie premiere--OMG! Date with Taylor Lautner!" Yeeeaah, I didn't think so.

But even then, I'm not sure why I need up-to-the-minute info. I mean, does reading that Britney Spears just took her meds for the day and is heading out to get some new hair extensions make you FRIENDS with her?!? Or does it somehow make you closer to her?? No. It just makes you a lame-ass who needs a hobby....besides reading Britney's Tweets.

DISCLAIMER: If you are on Twitter and update regularly, this blog is totally not about you. And you should all know that this post/rant is just the result of jealousy because I don't have Internet on my phone, so can't tweet throughout the day. Plus, I'm like, totally too wordy to Twitter so my tweets would read more like paragraphs....I mean, I have a hard time keeping my FB status from being too long for Pete's sake. So really....just jealousy talking here....

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Weekend in Pictures

The banquet....more fun than I thought it would be...and I was appropriately dressed. And yes, I had on a black shirt and jeans....sue me. BTW: fish are really funny-looking creatures, aren't they?? I keep expecting that picture to turn it's head towards me and start singing "Take me down to the river" like those fake ones at Cabela's do.

Date night--pretty cool. Found a new little sports bar to hang out at and watch the game. Cowboys won...I think....the pitchers were really cheap and I don't really remember the end of the game or getting home. I do, however, remember the free cheesy garlic bread the bartender gave us...mmmm...cheesy garlic bread.

While we did manage to make it to church Sunday morning, we quickly came back home and hit the couch. Pretty good movie...not nearly as good as the book, of course. And a great way to spend a few hung-over hours on a Sunday afternoon. And when I say a "few", I mean at least like was LONG. Make sure you go potty before it starts.

Mmmmmmm....Kobe the food! And the wine. And the whole scene. Especially since we were there to celebrate my sister's birthday. Those places are always good for a celebration. And she got free chop sticks. I know, you're jealous.
*Yes, I know this post sucks. I'm feeling un-funny today....sorry.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

I didn't know bass had clubs, I thought they preferred schools?

So when I originally started this blog, I intended to write about the funny, random and really redneck things that happen in my life. I realized recently that I have failed. Now don't get me wrong..."funny" and "random" are well-covered. In fact, one might even say "risque" and "slightly scary" are covered as well...I mean, who out there can forget the wash cloth incident???
But "redneck"??? Lacking...

So dear readers, I am thrilled to inform you that you will get your redneck fill today. Tonight, my husband and I have a date night. Not redneck, right? WRONG! Our date night will consist of attending his Bass Club's end-of-the-year banquet.

Yes. I'm serious.

And I don't mean "Bass" like the shoe/clothing company....I mean "Bass" like the the water. Like they're giving out fishing awards for the year, talking about God knows what and eating dinner. Ronnie tried to reassure me that it will be the most fun I've ever had with my clothes on by telling me that they are doing door prizes with shopping gift cards for the "women". Yeeaah....ooookaay.....can I just say here that I'm pissed that women aren't IN the bass club??? I can catch the shit out of some bass! Personally, I think they're just afraid the chicks will kick their asses at fishing....which, you know, dudes totally can't handle.

And, my biggest concern? What to wear. Dress up?? Hmmm...I'm very concerned I will be over-dressed and then considered "high falutin'" by the other Bass Club wives. (Who for some reason, I picture like countrified mean girls. Like "Ohmigawd! I LOVE your outfit! Where did you get that sweater? I don't 'member seein' that at Wal-Mart!?!" to my face and then when I walk away "Ohmigawd. Y'all...that is the ugliest sweater I have ever seen. Who does she think she is wearin' that fancy outfit to a bass club banquet.")

Dress down?? Well, I'm not sure I want to rock the jeans and camo boots (make that glittery camo boots) because if everyone else is dressed up, then I'll just look redneck and stupid. "Redneck" I can handle...even occasionally "stupid" I can handle....but both?? Um, no. And the other wives would be all, "Why would she even wear that to the end-of-the-year banquet?! I mean, really....didn't anyone tell her it's a banquet, like with a buffet and all!?! You'd think she would have dressed up a little."

So I think I'm going to go with having a couple of beers this afternoon, catching a slight buzz, saying "Fuck it" and throwing on some clothes (which will most likely end up being jeans and a black uniform).

Thursday, January 7, 2010

You don't have the sense God gave a grape.

I think whoever perpetuated the myth that men and women are meant to live together peacefully is full of shit.

Go out, have fun, hook up, make babies?? Sure, no problem! But living with a man is like the worst thing ever. Really. Like, they smell bad and they leave dirty socks everywhere and they can dirty up a bathroom sink by shaving in like .2 seconds.....bleh....

But really, the cleaning thing? I can handle. The fact that talking to my husband is sometimes like talking to a bowl of plastic fruit?? DRIVES ME FLIPPIN' CRAZY!

For example, on Monday, he was home all day so I asked him to get the Christmas tree taken down.

And he did. Which is good, right?? WRONG!

Literally....he took the tree down. He did manage to get the ornaments into the plastic tub....which he got like, 2 bonus points for.

Did he put the tree in the box? No. Did he put the tree and ornament tub in the shed where they live the other 11 months of the year? No. Did he take the gifts that were under the tree and put them somewhere so we will remember to give them to the people we didn't see this holiday? No. Did he then vacuum the living room to pick up any stray fake pine needles on the carpet? No.

You know what he did?? He took the ornaments off the tree, took the tree down, broke it into it's three sections and left it on the front porch.

That is all.


"Honey, if you could get the Christmas tree taken down today, that would be awesome" = "Hey honey, if you get bored, just rip the fucking tree down and throw it on the front porch."

Ronnie taking down the Christmas tree FAIL!!!!

Don't even ask about the greenery on the mantle. That shit will live there until Easter. Hey, they're both Jesus holidays, right?? Surely greenery is appropriate for all Jesus holidays.

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Buy a fake Rolex with the cash you make by selling your broken gold to the Canadian pharmacy!

I am so over junk email.

I mean, I don't even have a penis, so why would I need to enlarge it?!? And no, I don't want to buy your fake-ass Rolex or sell my gold for cash. I also do not need or want any Canadian or Mexican pharmaceutical drugs without a prescription! (Okay, so that last one could be a lie).

But, my favorite so far has been the one from someone named "Heather" (no last name) who wants me to join the social networking site "Fuckbook".


First of all, let me say (and no offense to any Heathers out there) that you should probably just not trust a girl named Heather. I don't know why other than the only Heather I've ever known kicked my ass on the playground in 2nd grade for telling her that Care Bears were not, in fact, real, nor did they actually live up on the clouds above us or slide down rainbows. I'm certain that my 2nd-grade-self said this in the most gentle and caring way possible. Needless to say, that burst her little "childhood imagination bubble" and she proceeded to lay the smack down on me in defense of mythical creatures and cartoon characters the world over. That's a true can't make this shit up.

But I digress.

So "Heather" wants me to join Fuckbook, huh?

Heather, I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request (name the movie and I'll give you a groovy prize package!) for a variety of reasons.

First of all Heather, I'm so sorry to inform you, I'm not gay. I may have briefly experimented in college (a la Katy Perry...and let's just be honest here, who hasn't?), but I'm just not. I have a couple of single lesbian friends who might be interested. Want to shoot me your contact info and I'll see what's up? That's really the best I can do for you.

Secondly, I have a firm belief that you should never sleep with someone without knowing his/her last name. Perhaps if you'd consider adding your last name to the invite? Which, you know, if I'm trying to hook you up with my single lesbian friends, I'm going to need anyway.

Thirdly, when someone googles me, I'd really hate for my Fuckbook page to be the first thing they see. I mean, are they going to see a profile pic of me in lingerie? Sorry Heather...I don't do naked, lingerie or swimsuit pictures. That shit does NOT need to be preserved or documented for historical purposes. Another firm belief in my string of firm beliefs and life guidelines.

So Heather, now that you know all the reasons that I will NOT be joining Fuckbook, can you please stop emailing me? Oh, and if you could pass this message on to "Staci", "Heidi" and "Phoebe", that'd be great. And you don't happen to know any of those dudes over at the penis enlargement email site, do you?? No? Bummer...

Monday, January 4, 2010

The Holidays....sans filter.

They're over.

And I'm sick.

Which just really makes the whole "post-holiday depression" thing that much worse.

BUT....I am really glad to be back at work. The whole "stay-at-home-mom" thing?? Not for me. And yes, sometimes that makes me feel like a bad mother/person, but then I consider that everyone in the house is probably much more well-adjusted when I am well-adjusted. That's not to say that everything revolves around me, but you know, it kinda does.

Honestly though, it's not even the whole "mom" part....hanging out with the kid is (for the most part) pretty entertaining. I think I have a bigger issue with the "stay at home" part. I just get so damned bored! And you can only clean and do laundry for so long without going absolutely fucking insane.....which I so almost did. God bless red wine is all I gotta say....

Don't believe me?? Read on....

Kid: "Mom.......Mom......Mom......MOM!......MOMMY!!!!.....MOMMY!!!!!"
Me (inside my head): "Ohmigod for the love of all that is holy if you say "MOM" one more time I will jab a soup spoon into my ear for the sole purpose of rupturing my own ear drum!"
Me (out loud): "Yes, honey?"
Kid: "Umm.....I love you."
Me (out loud): "I love you, too sweetie. Now can I get back to folding clothes?"
Kid: "Sure. By the way, I spilled my drink on the carpet."
Me (inside my head): "Sigh"

Husband: "I think I'm going to take some time off work while you're off so we can spend some quality family time together".
Me (inside my head): "Oh for fuck's sake! I wanted to spend some quality time with trashy romance novels, The Tyra Banks show and red wine! I don't need to spend any quality time with you, really....we're good. Now why don't you run along to the liquor store like a good little husband so I can sit here and watch Jerry Springer in peace?!"
Me (out loud): "That would be nice...."

Husband: "Oh look! It looks like Santa brought you something, too!"
Me (inside my head): "Um, hello?!! What part of 'we're not buying each other Christmas presents this year' did you not get?!?! Now I feel all guilty because I didn't buy you anything....I thought we had an agreement here!! Dammit! Now should I try and play it off like 'Oh, you'll get your present later' and totally pretend I bought you something when we agreed that we most definitely WOULD NOT!?!
*Opening present*
Me (inside my head): Oooooh look.....sparkly.....I love it!
Me (out loud): "Oooooh look....sparkly.....I love it honey!!"

And there are those of you out there who think I don't have a filter.....