So That Happened…


Guess what folks?  I’m a bully!  Yep, that’s right, I am a bully.  The same me that slams on her brakes to avoid hitting a little frog in the road and baby talks dogs and cries over sappy commercials and sings silly songs at top volume in public to make littles smile…
I’m a bully.  At least according to my bosses at work, who informed me that my coworkers all feel that I’m a bully.  Initially, I was devastated by this.  I try so hard to be fun and helpful and patient and such at work, even with people I find aggravating beyond words.  I will say that I have lost my temper at this job.  I have lost my temper at work a total of 5 times over the years, and 3 of them have been at this job.  I did later apologize and all that but still, it sucked.  So anyway, this whole bully thing came up in a meeting Desi and I had with our bosses, and that was only one thing they snarked about.  Basically, the whole meeting was a big ol game of “what we hate about you”, aimed mostly at me.  It was a total shit show.  I get snarked at for forgetting to fill stir sticks but it is perfectly acceptable for a coworker to have numerous complaints from customers about her inappropriate behavior without consequence.  Siigh…I really hate drama like this.

I’m fairly certain I’m doomed to remain single forever, which isn’t, like, the end of the world or anything but it is a bit of a bummer.  Currently, I seem to be attractive solely to men with few teeth and serious hygiene issues or slobbery old drunks.  It’s cause I’m so sexy and all, I just know it.  You should be totally jealous.



Season premiere of The Walking Dead is Sunday and I can’t wait!!!!  Rick and Michonne and Maggie and the frickin’  tiger and agrh!  I’m dying to see what happens this season!  And that was a lot of exclamation points, wasn’t it…yikes.  I just looked over and realized my cat is sleeping with one eye open, which is decidedly creepy as shit.  I feel kinda bad, but I woke him up just to make the creepy eye thing stop.  I am reading a book that’s kind of a just a huge book of serial killers, complete with a short bit about the killer, their crimes, and their victims, and I have to say I was downright stunned at the numbers.  I just had no idea how many of those whack jobs existed!  I feel like I’m actually making some progress on getting started on my book.  I found an entire section of awesome quirky Christmas ornaments at Hobby Lobby and I need them in my life…all of them!  They are simply delightful and are just so ‘me’!

Toodaloo kangaroo!


Miss me??


Okay kiddies, I have officially returned to land of blog and, I must admit, I have missed it.  I have been dealing with a lot of increased anxiety and depression for several months now, but I think I’m finally climbing out from under the mountain of misery…mostly anyway.  So yay for feeling less crazy and self-stabby and such! woo-hoo!

So, as I may have mentioned in the past, I am totally going to hell y’all.  This fact is made more and more obvious far too often.  For instance, I waited on a young lady one day at work who happened to have some pretty severe birth defects.  As I smiled and rang up her purchase and acted all professional and such, my brain flicked itself right into asshole mode and immediately asked, “Can you imagine being handed that baby after you gave birth?”  Like, you just went through this horrendous torture and forced a baby outta your lady garden, and they hand you a baby that looks nothing like it’s supposed to.  Now, I won’t lie, my first thought was that I would be all, “What the shit is this?”  Which is horrible, I know.  And I know I would end up loving any kid of mine, no matter what.  But…I know myself too well to think I wouldn’t end up saying something horrible like, “Put it back! It’s totally not done! Look at it!” And as I finished the transaction with the young lady, I kept smiling my face off even as I thought about what a horrible person I am for thinking these sorts of things.  I realize this every time I watch Intervention and think, “Omg, suck it up buttercup! Your daddy didn’t hug you enough and that’s why you do drugs??  Are you kidding me?  Omg get over yourself!  Whiner!!” Yeah…I’m totally kind of an asshole.

I have an odd obsession with rescuing crickets, which is even weirder than it sounds considering I was terrified of crickets when I was a teenager.  Now, I’m all like, shrieking at my coworkers to be careful and not squish them while I try to herd the poor cricket outside.  I even rescued one when I was shopping at Walmart one day and discovered one of the little fellows hiding under the clothing rack I was perusing.  I had to scoop him up and take him outside and around the side of the building so he could hopefully avoid getting trapped inside again.  I’m like some kind of one woman cricket rescue squad or something.

5 things I will never experience, ever:

I will never piss a cop off bad enough to be tackled to the ground and tazed

I will never tell attempt to hide drugs anywhere on my person

I will never give birth to triplets

I will never walk successfully while wearing stilettos

I will never lead cops on a high speed chase


I really want a puppy.  Preferably one that looks like the adorable little pup my buddy Caron just got.  I love when babies have crazy sticky-up hair.  That commercial with the chick talking to an owl about her new glasses cracks me up every time when she shrieks about how cute the glasses are then changes to a loud whisper after the owl informs her of his super sensitive hearing.  I still can’t believe my boneheaded nephew went skateboarding all alone in the middle of the night and managed to mess up his collar bone and his noggin…dork.  Ugh!  My cat is driving me bonkers!  He’s apparently trying to become my bizarre Siamese twin or something.  He will not settle down unless he is laying against my arm or my leg.  What a twerp.

Peace out folks!


Falling In With The Wrong Crowd


Remember when you were younger and your parents warned you not to fall in with the ‘wrong crowd’?  They were referring, of course, to those that would screw up your life and bring you down and such.  Yeah, well, I think I have officially fallen in with the aforementioned crowd of undesirables.  This crowd of riff-raffs has drawn me in and just won’t let me go.  They are a bunch of nasty, negative bastards that I want to throat punch, yet I can’t seem to escape them.  They tell me how worthless I am, how ugly and stupid and unwanted I am.  They insist that blogging is pointless, that no one reads it or gives a crap what I have to say.  They demand I acknowledge how much better the world would be without me in it.  They make my bones ache and my heart weep.  They play back every moment of time spent with family and friends and gleefully point out every moment that could possibly be interpreted as indifference, annoyance, and/or disdain.  They remind me that no one wants to hear about my loneliness, my pain, or my fears and struggles.  And the very worst thing?  The thing that leaves me hopeless and full of despair?  I can’t escape them…ever.  Why, you ask?  Because they live in my head-they are me.  The me that simple must spew hatred and self-loathing whenever my depression and anxiety decide to get all over-whelming and controlling and such.  So, how do you avoid falling in with the ‘wrong crowd’ when it’s in your head?

So that’s pretty much why I have sucked at blogging.  Sorry folks.  I will really and truly try to do a bit better.  In other news, I will hopefully be getting my car back this weekend, so yay for that!  And yay for my bitter buddy, Tom, and his pal, who are going to save me darn near a grand by fixing my car (the mechanic guy I go to told me it would be that much just for labor, plus I would have to pay another couple hundred for parts!)  So thanks again Tom!!  Let’s see, what else? Dart just turned 15 on Sunday!  He’s lost some weight, but he’s still just as adorable as ever.


Sadly, I got nothing.  I’ll try to do better next time. But I did give y’all some amusing pics, so there’s that.

Peace out, trout!

Introducing Wilhelm the Christmas Wiener! And Other Edge Of Your Seat Excitement From The World Of Me



This is the one and only Wilhelm, the Christmas wiener!  I truly think he’s one of the most fabulously tacky Christmas decorations I have ever had the privilege of owning.  I spotted a display of these delightfully gaudy little fellas weeks ago and immediately knew I simply had to have one.  And there was a sale.  So now I have Wilhelm, who holds the honored spot of being one of the wackier items in my wacky Christmas decor/collection.  Yay for Wilhelm, the Christmas Wiener! (P.S…my neighbor down the street has a fancy light up Christmas wiener in their yard that really would be a lovely addition to my wacky Christmas stuff.  I admit, I’m jealous.  How dare the flaunt there fancy light-up Christmas wiener like that!?  Jerks.)

So I was watching Intervention the other day…shocking, I know.  Anywho, they had this chick on that has been a heroin addict for, like, a bunch of years.  In fact, she shot up heroin for so long that all her veins just up and quit on her which, of course, makes sense because there is only so many times a vein can get stabbed on a daily basis before it just says ‘fuck this shit’ and curls into its very own version of the fetal position and refuses to move anymore.  So once her veins quit working, this woman has to do something, right?  And we all know she didn’t take that as some sort of tell-tale sign that maybe she should, you know, not do drugs anymore.  Nope, instead she somehow comes to the conclusion that, since her veins are broken or whatever, she will simply take the heroin another way.  Now, you may assume she decided to smoke it or snort it or eat it or something, right?  Oh no!  Not this chick!  She decides to start taking the heroin ANALLY.  That’s right.  Her veins stop working and somehow she decides the next logical step is to take it via the ol’ poop shoot.  Like, how does that seem like the next option??  How do you go from veins right to anal??  Seriously, WTEFF????  And she was all casual and matter of fact about it, showing the camera how she just slides a syringe (sans needle, in case you were wondering, which should be obvious but you just never know really) under her skirt or up her shorts and just sends a delivery right on up her bahookey.  And she manages to do so without even the slightest shocking skin reveal!

A couple of weeks ago I had an interesting encounter with a customer at work.  He was purchasing some stuff and came up short on money.  He searched his pockets for a minute before whipping out a baggie of weed (marijuana for those who prefer non slang terminology).  He grinned stupidly and laughingly offered to pay with the weed.  I politely declined, pointing out I wouldn’t know what the hell to do with it anyway.  (Honestly, I have no idea how to use it or sell it, so what the hell would I do with it?  I don’t even know how exactly one goes about rolling a joint and I have even less of a clue how you would go about ‘smoking a bowl’.  Yes, folks, I am actually that cluelessly boring and nerdy and such.  I’m basically weed-tarded.)  At that point, he returned aforementioned still-illegal-in-our-state substance to his pocket, expressed his awe and admiration that I was clueless about utilizing the stuff, and waltzed out the door.  It had to be one of the strangest encounters I have had at this job to date.  And the fucker never did come up with the 60-some cents he still owed, though he did take his mostly-purchased items with him.  It’s cool though.  I know where he lives and he comes in pretty much every day, so I just made him fork it over the next time.  It is hard to keep a straight face when I wait on him nowadays though.  I mean, think about it.  He threw a bag of weed on the counter in front a cashier he knows nothing about with cameras all over the place.  If I cared enough to be a bitch, I totally could have turned his ass in!  What an idiot.



My philodendron plant (Philomina) is still alive and well, so yay for me not killing so far!  I’m still feeling somewhat ashamed over the terminology weed-tarded, yet I keep giggling over it too.  My Christmas socks of the day–adorable Christmas trees.  Chloe’s new barbies are sure some sassy bitches.  You know, I don’t see many hyena or wombat Christmas ornaments…weird.  Now that I thought about it, a wombat Christmas ornament would be absolutely fricking adorable.  It’s weird how people think it’s weird that I named my car.  My pal Krystal’s new bf, Scott, seems like a nice lad…I really hope he is…I’d hate to have to hate him and such, especially since he thinks my new nickname should be Epic, which is kind of an epic sort of nickname really, and he seems to find me amusing and such.  Yeah, I really hope he isn’t a jackwagon.  I hate when you think you have almost all your Christmas shopping done and then you realize you were wrong and now you have to figure out what the hell to get the 8 people you just realized you totally did not shop for yet.  Siiigh. Night all!

That’s that, wombat!!

“It’s Between God And The Placenta”, Coolest Jailbirds Ever, Finally Driving, TWD…Just, Why???, And Other Tidbits of Tedium


I totally socialized!  On purpose!  Yay for me!  So anyway, I went with my Asbys and we had dinner and played Cards Against Humanity with Mr. and Mrs. Tattoo Guy.  It was totally fun and I was only, like, one card from winning or whatever.  I also said what may be one of the niftiest things I have ever said.  While debating which card should win, I actually said, “It’s between God and the placenta”, which amused me to no end as soon as the words left my mouth.  I know, I’m a dork.

My new pals, Colten and Chelsie, are beyond awesome!  They are amusing and entertaining and all sorts of just plain delightful.  And then they got even cooler.  They actually went to jail for stealing….Trump signs!  They were trying to be neighborly and community-minded and purge our town of rubbish and the next thing they knew, they were headed for the clink!  I have been singing their praises ever since.  Yay for my new heroes!

I am finally driving my car!  And it’s totally legal and everything!  I have officially named her Betsy (Bettina Olivia St. Sassi, ’cause she’s kinda adorably bad-ass and sassy and boss and such).  So happy to have my own transportation finally!  Thanks again to the sis and adopted bro and Miss Sierra!


Oh, Walking Dead, why????  Why would you do such a cruel thing?  I have been a loyal fan since the beginning, forgiven you for killing off Tyreese and Beth and Hershel and Dale and so many others.  I can even forgive you for killing off the source of the best one-liners ever.  But Glenn??  GLENN?!?!?!?  Not cool, y’all.  Not. Fucking. Cool. wd-maggie-and-glenn


So I’m watching this documentary called Hate Rising and I kinda want to punch somebody in the face.  You know a group of people are truly stupid when they not only believe whites are somehow superior, they actually cheer in AGREEMENT when a woman says, “We were given this land and now we need to take it back”….and she’s wasn’t joking nor was she Native American.  Just wow.  Robby got me a new philodendron (yay for spelling that right on the first try again!) and I have dubbed her Philomena.  Thanks again cuz!  I have scheduled my hand surgery for December.  I cannot wait for this stupid carpal tunnel crap to cease and desist.  Why don’t they make tooth filling stuff neon pink?  What, exactly, do the crown jewels include?  Why aren’t there more blue or purple plants?  Mean people suck balls.  I don’t want to work tomorrow, just ’cause I don’t.

Todaloo Kangaroos!

Possibly The Best Story EVER,Hooker Heels And Classy Vans, A Moldy Penis Would Be Beyond Uncool, And Other Such Stuff And Thangs


So, I was told not to share this story, which I totally agreed to at the time.  But as time passed, I realized it would be just plain wrong to keep this gem to myself.  And since a bunch of time has passed since the incident, I just can’t resist sharing it now.  I was working one night, cleaning the bathroom (just my fave task ever!).  I finished cleaning and went to grab a new roll of that awesome public restroom toilet paper.  While I did this, a customer went into the bathroom.  As soon as she was done, I went in, changed out the t.p. roll, and went back out to start sweeping.  The woman I was working with went in to use the restroom, only to come back out rather quickly and hurrying into the office.  She came back out a couple minutes later to let me know the police would be arriving shortly.  Well, being the boring, nosy person I am, I asked what was up.  Well, it turns out that lady that used the bathroom after I cleaned it, yeah, she accidentally left her drugs sitting on the sink.  A nice little baggie of meth.  And, according to the cops that showed up thereafter, really high-quality meth at that.  Now, I had no actual idea what meth looked like prior to this.  I mean, it’s not like they do a super close-up on Cops or Intervention or whatever.  I mean, you usually see this little tiny piece of stuff that looks like a cross between a piece of pocket lint and a tiny little chunk of flour or sugar or something.  So I totally made sure I got several good looks at the baggie o’ meth (which really looked nothing like what I had imagined).  So anyway, my coworker and the cops went out to chat and I went back to doing my work stuff.  When my coworker got a call, I simply took her the phone and went back to work.  Well, a bit later, my co-worker returned and she was absolutely convinced that the lady would be returning for her forgotten meth.  So the cops hid their car and then hung out out of sight to wait for Ms. Meth to return.  And the idiot did return.  She walked in one door, spotted the cops, went right out the other door, which even I know was not exactly a genius move.  I mean seriously, at least buy a pop or something so it’s not completely obvious you were coming in specifically to retrieve your illegal drugs.  Dumbass.  Sadly, not only was she not sprayed or tazed, she didn’t even get arrested.  It was a total bummer.  It was only later that shift that I learned the truly genius detail that makes this the best story EVER.  It turns out that there was a reason my co-worker was so certain Ms. Meth would be returning for her drugs.  SHE FRICKIN’ CALLED!  That was the call I handed over to my co-worker.  The woman actually called to see if my co-worker would hold onto the meth for her until she could come back in to get it!  Like, WTEFF??  How exactly does that call go?  “Excuse me, I left my meth in your bathroom, can you hold onto it for me?”  And no, my co-workers are not good buddies–the chick is just that dim.  It was a rather awesome and exciting evening overall–kinda like being on Cops but without being arrested or anything.

I went to Goodwill last week, which is always entertaining.  I saw these delightfully classy heels:

Which, as far as I can tell, where created solely for hookers, strippers, or for some sort of costume.  Schnazzy, huh?!?  Then, in the parking lot, I was forced to kinda block traffic so I could snag a pic of this ah-mazing van:


There is so much awesome in this picture y’all.  First, note the window air conditioner in the back window there.  Then, take note of the fact that this totally looks like a creeper kidnappy sort of van.  And finally, the coup de resistance, the sticker proclaiming this to be the shaggin’ wagon.  So awe-inspiring.

Kids are hilarious.  My dear friend Krystal’s little guy is particularly amusing.  You may remember him from previous blogs, since he often amuses me.  Anyway, little man is not quite 7–his birthday is this month.  Well, one night he shoved past his mom in a desperate dash for the toilet.  After he finished peeing, he looked around and, rather frantically, asked his mom if there was any toilet paper left.  Krystal was understandably puzzled and reminded him that boys don’t really need toilet paper after they pee.  Looking slightly appalled at the suggestion to just kinda ‘shake it off’ a bit, he told her, “But mom, it’s still a little bit wet!  I can’t leave it wet!  It will get moldy and then we’ll have to cut it off!”  Lord that kid cracks me up!


Current fave term for a certain loathsome presidential candidate: the American Cheeto!  I think my work bestie Desi and I should start our own business–we can see books and hooker heels and all sorts of bizarre odds and ends.  No reason really, just sounds fun.  This will come as a shock to y’all, but I am, once again, coughing and wheezing and all that fun stuff.   Yay.  Couldn’t even work yesterday and had to go to the ER today since the urgent care folks told me not to bother waiting for them and just head over to the ER.  So I did and they gave me a breathing treatment and a shot of antibiotics and an IV bag of Solumedrol (steroids…and I totally spelled that right on the first try!!) and prescriptions for Prednisone and an antibiotic and said Wednesday, if I’m better, I can go back to work, but if I’m still sick I have to go back to the ER.  Just yuck.  My buddy Caron once had a radar detector with radar detector detector deflector, which is kind of awesome to say.  The new Slim Jim commercial with the old lady and the that’s what she said line?  BEST. EVER.

Gotta go, dingo!

What On Earth Is Wrong With People, Weird And Slightly Quirky Kinda Rocks, And Other Crap That Doesn’t Matter


Between working with the public, being forced to go in public for various reasons, and watching ‘reality’ t.v., my general aversion to people is constantly being reinforced by the incomprehensible behavior of folks.  Throw in the historical and cultural documentaries, and it really shouldn’t come as a shock that I would happily avoid interacting with the vast majority of the population.  People tossing wadded up money at a cashier while carrying on a loud cell phone call full of personal information that no one wants to hear.  People proudly and loudly declaring their ‘knowledge’ that all folks that seek any sort of federal/state assistance are lazy, worthless scum who feel entitled to get money without having to work for it.  People shooting at people they don’t know for reasons that make no sense.  People thinking they are better than others because of their clothes or their home or their religion or whatever.  Teen Moms and The Bachelor/Bachelorette…’nuff said. (I know the show sucks, spellcheck, but bachelorette is totally a word)  Now, don’t get me wrong, I am guilty of having some truly atrocious shows in my guilty pleasure list, but none includes a bunch of pregnant teens or a group of people expecting to find true love with one pre-selected stranger on national t.v. while competing against 20 others who are all looking for the same thing.  Seriously though, people just kinda suck.  They so often have no sense of decency or compassion.  People are so quick to hate and so prone to cruelty.  I may be a pathetic, selectively-social, bleeding-heart liberal, but I think that’s infinitely preferable than being a selfish, uncaring, unfeeling, nasty person.  So there.

It may shock you, but I’m a bit different than most folks.  But it’s true.  Most people seem to be all about fancy shoes or expensive clothes or glamorous jewelry or some such things.  Yeah, not really my thing.  While other chicks get all giddy over over-priced high heels, I’m perfectly content to sport some nice, comfy Sketchers or whatever.  I get all kinds of disgruntled over the thought of buying shoes that are more than $30-$40!  And that’s only for work shoes, which have to be super comfy and tend to be more expensive.  For everyday shoes, I prefer $5-$20.  The idea of spending hundreds of dollars on a pair of shoes is mind-boggling and rather appalling to me.  And I actually don’t much care for that sort of shopping either.  My idea of fun shopping involves avoiding any store that seems even slightly high-end or fashion-y.  I am inevitably drawn to the more intriguing, quirky, oddball stores.  The best way to draw me in to a store is to put something wacky right in the doorway or window, where I am unlikely to miss it.  The weirder, the better.  Bizarre lawn ornamentation, odd knick-knacks, kooky wall decor, goofy window hangings–anything that strikes you as too ‘out there’ or even a touch tacky.  That is the stuff I love.  The slightly amazing little stuffed flamingo wearing a fuzzy green boa and sparkly heels and a fabulous hat, the slightly disconcertingly unusual clothes hanger with a face and shoulders, the little pink koosh-ball looking fella with huge eyes, the zombie shaped cookie cutters-I love them all.  But the really quirky thing is that I also love all things books (trinket boxes and pencil holders and book ends and coffee mugs and decor galore, which all looks perfect with all my books) and I love nifty old stuff.  Especially old trunks and suitcases and such.  I have a cool old metal pitcher that belonged to my Grandma Chuck that I use as a vase of sorts for all my fake flowers that I absolutely love.  The fact that it is placed next to a little koosh-like baby chick and my Minnion shaped flashlight and a cool deco box and a bendy purple elephant thing my buddy Caron gave me many moons ago, it all just makes it even cooler.


What’s with the half-ponytail with the bump thingy in the front?  Why would anyone sign up to be on a show to kiss a total stranger in the hopes of meeting their true love?  Like, does that seem likely to these people?  Why on earth do people have pets that can easily kill people?  Like, what is endearing about a venomous snake or something large enough with big sharp teeth that can literally bite your face off or whatever?  How do you feel sorry for someone who was killed by their pet venomous snake or eaten/mauled by their pet tiger?  And I totally want a service monkey someday, but definitely a nice tiny little monkey that cannot go all pissed chimpanzee and chew my face off…like maybe one of those itty bitty little finger sized monkeys…or whatever those adorable little fuzzy monkey-like critters are.  I’m fairly certain low-rise socks were created by the devil.  There’s a guy on the show I’m watching that looks kinda like Babe Winkleman, but the Babe Winkleman from back in the 80’s rather than current Babe Winkleman, whom I happened to catch sight of while trying to find something on t.v. one day.  It actually made me switch to the channel to see how old ol’ Babe was, which was hella old, at least compared to the last time I watched his show, which was probably sometime in 1989, as that is the year my stepfather died and he was actually the one watching the show, I was just the victim of a single t.v. household back then.

Asta La Pasta!