So, my new blog template is posting for me in about a nano-second instead of three hours. This is good. It may not be that original, but hey, it works. My doctor said that any type of simplification of my life will be good for my stress level, so here are things that I'm doing:
1. A non-complicated blog.
2. Only one job.
3. Letting my hair dry naturally instead of fighting with hair creme, the hairdryer and the straightener.
4. Margaritas with only 2 ingredients: Tequila and "Fat Mama's Knock You Naked Margarita Mix". (Instead of individual sweet and sour, lime juice...etc.) This is an important one, folks.
5. Turning off my cell phone when I don't want to be interrupted.
6. Returning emails when I FEEL LIKE IT instead of replying immediately for fear that the world will come off of its axis.
7. Repeating the most awesome line from a movie EVER to shew away those menfolk who are irritating me: "Go play with your dick." (From "Rumor Has It", said by Shirley MacLaine.)
I'm feeling better already.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Sunday, May 28, 2006
I'm having issues.
Help Me! Judging from the clumps of hair on my desk that I have pulled out, I need some help. As you can see, my sidebar on the right is GONE. Well, not gone, but pushed down to the very bottom of the screen. I cannot figure out how to fix it. I am about to jam a pen into my eye. If you go to 'View" then "Source" you can see my html code. If you know how to fix this, PLEASE HELP ME SO I DON'T START SCRATCHING OFF MY ARM SKIN. Thank you, and good night.
Monday, May 22, 2006
A day in the life.
Alarm goes off, hit snooze and knock over alarm and some nail polish remover I left uncovered the night before. Get up and pee. Go back to bed. Get up approximately 1 hour later and clean up mess. Skip shower, fuck it, I'm clean enough. Grab brownie and run out the door. Get iced mocha. Watch gas light on dashboard come on. Ignore it and drive 30 more miles. Start to panic because I have a meeting at work at 8 am, and OMG I have NO GAS. Get to work with one minute to spare and have no idea how I will make it to a gas station on my lunch break. Can't find meeting notes. Find meeting notes, get to meeting 5 minutes late. It's all good. Did I mention it was a meeting that I called? Yes, late to my own meeting. Go back to desk, finish mocha, do blog.
Friday, May 12, 2006
My Side of the Story.
Jim has decided to blog about his "perception" of one of our first dates. Now, while this story is incredibly embarrassing for me, and mostly true, there ARE a few details he left out, so I am here to clear those details right up. I am also going to tell the story about the hike through the cow pasture and the vampire bunnies.
First of all, yes, I did drink 9 double rum and cokes that night, but what you have to understand is that I was 21 years old and really excited about the whole "I can go to bars now!" thing. If I was to attempt that now, I would die. Second of all, he had TWO beers? Yeah, pull this one it plays jingle bells. Third of all, while I did become loud and maybe (a little) obnoxious, the reason I told everybody he was going to kick their ass is because they were all hitting on me, and I just wanted to play darts. So, you know, sexual harassment and shit. I was totally justified.
Now for the cow pasture story. This might be a 'you had to be there' story, but if you think about it, it's kind of hilarious. We had just graduated from the police academy and Jim's parents rented us a cabin in the mountains for a few days to celebrate. We thought we were THE SHIT being 'official' cops and stuff. We decided to go on a hike and explore a little bit, and we brought our guns with us (for safety). As we went, it started to get dark. No problem! We have guns! The problem was, we got lost. Totally and completely fucking lost. Idiots. We stumbled into a cow pasture and suddenly were face to face with a bunch of scary looking (huge!) cows and a bull. SHIT. We froze. They all just stared at us, unmoving. We heard a low and menacing "MOO" and some grunts. We looked at each other and said, "Oh crap." We pulled our guns out, because we were convinced that we were about to be killed by satanic cows and a bull. Inside our guns were "Hollow Point" bullets. These are police department issued bullets, that every officer has to ACCOUNT FOR. My first thought was, "Oh mother of hell, we are cops for 2 days and we are going to have to explain putting Hollow Points in a bunch of motherfucking cows." We tip-toed through the pasture, and amazingly, didn't have to plug any of the cows. We were, however, still lost. Jim started to panic because we were lost. My knight in shining armor. Anyway, we did eventually find our way back, BUT, then there were the bunnies.
First of all, yes, I did drink 9 double rum and cokes that night, but what you have to understand is that I was 21 years old and really excited about the whole "I can go to bars now!" thing. If I was to attempt that now, I would die. Second of all, he had TWO beers? Yeah, pull this one it plays jingle bells. Third of all, while I did become loud and maybe (a little) obnoxious, the reason I told everybody he was going to kick their ass is because they were all hitting on me, and I just wanted to play darts. So, you know, sexual harassment and shit. I was totally justified.
Now for the cow pasture story. This might be a 'you had to be there' story, but if you think about it, it's kind of hilarious. We had just graduated from the police academy and Jim's parents rented us a cabin in the mountains for a few days to celebrate. We thought we were THE SHIT being 'official' cops and stuff. We decided to go on a hike and explore a little bit, and we brought our guns with us (for safety). As we went, it started to get dark. No problem! We have guns! The problem was, we got lost. Totally and completely fucking lost. Idiots. We stumbled into a cow pasture and suddenly were face to face with a bunch of scary looking (huge!) cows and a bull. SHIT. We froze. They all just stared at us, unmoving. We heard a low and menacing "MOO" and some grunts. We looked at each other and said, "Oh crap." We pulled our guns out, because we were convinced that we were about to be killed by satanic cows and a bull. Inside our guns were "Hollow Point" bullets. These are police department issued bullets, that every officer has to ACCOUNT FOR. My first thought was, "Oh mother of hell, we are cops for 2 days and we are going to have to explain putting Hollow Points in a bunch of motherfucking cows." We tip-toed through the pasture, and amazingly, didn't have to plug any of the cows. We were, however, still lost. Jim started to panic because we were lost. My knight in shining armor. Anyway, we did eventually find our way back, BUT, then there were the bunnies.
In the little camp site where our cabin was, there were about 30 bunnies running around. Feeling like we got a second chance at life and giddy that we found our way home, Jim decided to go cut up some carrots for the cute little bunnies. He cut the shit out of himself. (I can't believe we actually graduated from the Police Academy and that they gave us weapons.) As he was bleeding all over the cabin, down the steps and out onto the dirt road, he STILL WANTED TO GIVE THE BUNNIES THE BLOOD-SOAKED CARROTS. I KNOW. So, after we went to bed, I'm all thinking, "Great. We just gave those bunnies a taste for blood. They will surely come and eat us before dawn." We have never been back to that cabin.
Aaahh, and also Derrr.
There. was. a. spider. in. the. shower. with. me. this. morning. First, it startled me, THEN, I contemplated whether or not I should scream bloody murder and wake Jim up, or just keep an eagle-eye on the thing and keep my naked body as far away from it as possible. You know, because there is NO FREAKING WAY I'm touching it. I decided since it was a small spider, that Jim would kill me for waking him up over it, so I co-showered with the hideous thing.
Later, while driving to work, Jim called me on my cell phone. I told him about the spider incident. The conversation went like this:
Me: "There was a SPIDER in the shower with me this morning!"
Jim: "Did you kill it? I didn't hear you scream."
Me: "No, I just left it alone."
Jim: "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Me: "I don't know."
(Meanwhile, Jim goes into the bathroom to check out the huge beast I left for him to deal with.)
Jim: "You have GOT to be kidding me! This little, tiny thing? You're right, if you had screamed over this and woke me up, I would have been pissed."
Now, let me give you a little insight into my extreme spider phobia. I grew up in a house with a daylight basement where my room happened to be located. Big, fat, hairy wolf spiders were EVERWHERE. In my clothes, in the towels, in the walls, in the shower. Once, while taking a shower, a bunch of those big hairy fuckers FELL OUT OF THE LIGHT over the shower ONTO MY NAKED BODY. You cannot imagine that kind of horror nor the fact that I learned how to fly that morning. I crashed through the shower door screaming and traumatized for life. You could say that I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. I was also bitten once by a brown recluse spider while camping. My leg got all swollen and it looked like an egg was laid on my calf, and it HURT BAD.
So, you see, me no like spiders. It doesn't matter how big or small they are.
I am also a dumbass. I sold out and signed up for AdSense through Google (hence the ads on my page now) and because I am a little bit of a dolt when it comes to HTML code, I can't quite figure it out. Just be patient with me while I pull my hair trying to figure it out.
Later, while driving to work, Jim called me on my cell phone. I told him about the spider incident. The conversation went like this:
Me: "There was a SPIDER in the shower with me this morning!"
Jim: "Did you kill it? I didn't hear you scream."
Me: "No, I just left it alone."
Jim: "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Me: "I don't know."
(Meanwhile, Jim goes into the bathroom to check out the huge beast I left for him to deal with.)
Jim: "You have GOT to be kidding me! This little, tiny thing? You're right, if you had screamed over this and woke me up, I would have been pissed."
Now, let me give you a little insight into my extreme spider phobia. I grew up in a house with a daylight basement where my room happened to be located. Big, fat, hairy wolf spiders were EVERWHERE. In my clothes, in the towels, in the walls, in the shower. Once, while taking a shower, a bunch of those big hairy fuckers FELL OUT OF THE LIGHT over the shower ONTO MY NAKED BODY. You cannot imagine that kind of horror nor the fact that I learned how to fly that morning. I crashed through the shower door screaming and traumatized for life. You could say that I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. I was also bitten once by a brown recluse spider while camping. My leg got all swollen and it looked like an egg was laid on my calf, and it HURT BAD.
So, you see, me no like spiders. It doesn't matter how big or small they are.
I am also a dumbass. I sold out and signed up for AdSense through Google (hence the ads on my page now) and because I am a little bit of a dolt when it comes to HTML code, I can't quite figure it out. Just be patient with me while I pull my hair trying to figure it out.
Monday, May 08, 2006
Annie Stories
OK SISTER, you asked for it!
Annie is one of my best buds who has been through hell and back with me. We spent A LOT of time together (pretty much every day) between the ages of 19 and 24. Here are some of the things I can remember, which is amazing because we were blind drunk half the time.
Annie got drunk on "Mad Dog" one night at her apartment with me and several other friends. She got sick. I held her over the toilet. She got vomit on my feet. Which made me vomit. Melanie, another friend of ours, was puking in her kitchen sink. Someone else was puking off the porch. Ah, to be young again. That same night, someone had the very bright idea to VIDEO TAPE us, not puking, but singing and acting like total drunk retards. I really wish I could find that video tape. I could put it on the internet. Annie and I were singing the "Brady Bunch" theme song, forgetting half of the words.
Annie had this roommate once that we all hated. Including her. I can't remember her name, but I remember making fun of her "pastel decorations" and the fact that she sang REALLY loud in the bathroom to the "Counting Crows" while getting ready. I think someone may have rubbed her little pack of veggie-snacks in the crack of their ass and then put it back in the refrigerator.
One time while riding the chair lift skiing, Annie and I belted out a little tune that goes like this, "It's so easy to fall in love, it's so eeeeasy to fa-ahl-in love!" over and over and OVER again. You see, we don't like to draw attention to ourselves.
Annie and I would go to Shari's (like Denny's) for like, a gazillion hours, just smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. One by one, people would join us until there was about 10 people crammed into a booth. This is how Annie met her first husband. (Ahem, I mean fucktard.)
OK, enough for now. More later. Hey, Annie, remember the "Dollar-fucking-25-lighter"? LOL. You rock, girl, and I'm so glad we still hang out! (Even though we're old, boring married couples now.)
Annie is one of my best buds who has been through hell and back with me. We spent A LOT of time together (pretty much every day) between the ages of 19 and 24. Here are some of the things I can remember, which is amazing because we were blind drunk half the time.
Annie got drunk on "Mad Dog" one night at her apartment with me and several other friends. She got sick. I held her over the toilet. She got vomit on my feet. Which made me vomit. Melanie, another friend of ours, was puking in her kitchen sink. Someone else was puking off the porch. Ah, to be young again. That same night, someone had the very bright idea to VIDEO TAPE us, not puking, but singing and acting like total drunk retards. I really wish I could find that video tape. I could put it on the internet. Annie and I were singing the "Brady Bunch" theme song, forgetting half of the words.
Annie had this roommate once that we all hated. Including her. I can't remember her name, but I remember making fun of her "pastel decorations" and the fact that she sang REALLY loud in the bathroom to the "Counting Crows" while getting ready. I think someone may have rubbed her little pack of veggie-snacks in the crack of their ass and then put it back in the refrigerator.
One time while riding the chair lift skiing, Annie and I belted out a little tune that goes like this, "It's so easy to fall in love, it's so eeeeasy to fa-ahl-in love!" over and over and OVER again. You see, we don't like to draw attention to ourselves.
Annie and I would go to Shari's (like Denny's) for like, a gazillion hours, just smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. One by one, people would join us until there was about 10 people crammed into a booth. This is how Annie met her first husband. (Ahem, I mean fucktard.)
OK, enough for now. More later. Hey, Annie, remember the "Dollar-fucking-25-lighter"? LOL. You rock, girl, and I'm so glad we still hang out! (Even though we're old, boring married couples now.)
Friday, May 05, 2006
Run and Hide!
Guess who is doing a blog now? Yeah, my hubby. I am totally freaked. He is so going to get even with me for all my posts about him. I am going to have to be nice to him and shit now. Go visit and leave a comment so he can feel all egomaniacal. Just so you know, HE LIES. (Just remember this for any future posts about me. Thank you.) I am not responsible for his material. I'm just sayin'.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
Can't. Think. Of. Anything. To. Blog. About.
I guess I should take a picture of the monstrosity we just put up in our garage that renders me powerless against exercise excuses from now on. Our friends gave us this big weight training thingy and bench. I'll post it later when I get home, you know, after I use it, so my husband doesn't kill me for taking away his "husbandland" and turning it into a gym. Hehe. Shit.
I guess I should take a picture of the monstrosity we just put up in our garage that renders me powerless against exercise excuses from now on. Our friends gave us this big weight training thingy and bench. I'll post it later when I get home, you know, after I use it, so my husband doesn't kill me for taking away his "husbandland" and turning it into a gym. Hehe. Shit.
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