It’s The Best Day Of The Year, Really


So, today is the day everyone celebrates the uterine eviction of yours truly.  In other words, it’s my birthday!  I figured I’d put some pics on here so y’all could see how adorable I was in the years directly following my aforementioned eviction.  Seriously, I was a cute little thing, wasn’t I?  No idea what happened.  Anyway, I’ve been trying to wrap my mind around the fact that I am now 39 years old.  It seems so old when I say it, yet I don’t feel old.  Well, physically maybe, but definitely not emotionally or mentally or whatever.  I mean, I still love cartoons and bobble heads and collecting goofy shit and being silly and watching snow fall and boogieing to the music and Bob the minion and all sorts of other things most folks my age probably find silly.  I can totally do the whole mature, grown-up thing, I just don’t see the point of being all boring and such along with it.  I plan on being the coolest old broad in the nursing home!

And a huge thank you to everyone who sent me bday wishes and especially to my bitter buddy for the barrage of texts that kept me giggling all day long!


Why do we talk to other drivers like they can hear us?  Example:  “What are you doing?  Seriously, what the hell are you doing?  Were you dropped as a small child or what?”  Why do people join cults anyway?  You’d think after the whole Jim Jones/kool-aid thing, folks would be all, “You’re the messiah?  Yeah, I’m pretty sure you might want to rethink that position…it doesn’t seem to end well for most of ya.  And no way am I doing any whack-a-do shit for your crazy ass.”  I have this thing where I have to have the captions on whenever I watch t.v. or a movie or anything, and I just have to say, it’s annoying as fuck when they mess up.  Like when they type bout instead of both or “that’s us up” (which doesn’t even make any sense!) instead of “blow it up”.  I’ve only read 15 books so far this year, which is not nearly as many as I was hoping to have read by now.  I’m so excited–my aunt made me a cake for my birthday!  It’d be really awesome if I get a card or something today…not to sound greedy or anything, I just like getting cards.  But cake rocks too.

Ta ta for now, chow chow!


The Life Of A Recluse, Reading Should Totally Be An Olympic Sport, And Other Randomosities


I think it’s safe to say that I am something of a recluse.  I mean, if I had my way, I’d pretty much live in the middle of nowhere and never have to leave my house.  Alas, that is just not an option for me, seeing as how I’m all kinds of broke and pathetic and such.  Instead, I spend as much of my life as possible holed up in my room, reading and watching t.v. and chilling with my cat.  I do not go out beyond the necessary trips to the store and things like that.  Hell, I’m not even all that good about calling folks to keep in touch or whatever.  In my mind, this is perfectly acceptable behavior.  I have been informed, however, that this is actually ‘unhealthy’ or some such babble.  Apparently, some folks believe everyone should be sociable and outgoing and whatnot.  I just don’t see the appeal myself.  Why on earth would I choose social activity over reading?  That is just ridiculously unrealistic.  Books totally trump people, y’all.

I think reading should be an Olympic event.  Seriously, there should be medals awarded for reading massive amounts of books.  I think that I would be a shoo-in for the gold myself.  I would rock the hell out of Olympic reading, y’all.  And I wouldn’t even have to wear one of those sporty leotard thingies either, which is preferable for all parties involved really.


Why are houses always haunted by mean ghosts?  Why aren’t there any Casper sort of ghosties haunting folks?  Like, how nifty would it be to see a show about a family being haunted by a ghost that just wants to hang out with them…maybe watch some t.v. or have a nice long chat about life and un-life and such.  And why on earth do people insist on staying in a house if their mean ghost tells them to get out?  If some creepy disembodied voice told me to get out and behaved all unfriendly and such, my ass would be GONE.  Total Amittyville type gone–leave the house and most of your shit and just skedaddle.  If Bigfoot is out there, how come none of the folks on all these finding Bigfoot shows never find him?  And would the shows end if they did?  That’d be nice…those shows are stupid.  I hope it snows tomorrow.  I think it would be cool to live in Alaska, as long as you had indoor plumbing, which is not always a given there.  I mean, not many people if you live outside of a town, and for several months of the year you not only aren’t expected to leave your house, you really can’t!  I could totally be jiggy with that.  And I totally wouldn’t end up getting eaten by grizzly bears like that one dumb bear fella did, since I have a nice, healthy respect for the fact that they are not pets and they can and will eat me…in other words, I am appropriately chicken-shit when it comes to bears.  Does it count as being social or whatever if my cousin comes over to hang out most Sunday nights?  I think it counts, but since it still allows me not to leave my room, I’m not positive.  Oh well, close enough for me.

Gotta go, dingo!

It’s A Visor People, That Time With Me And Caron And The Crop Circle, And Other Stuff And Thangs


Okay, so what the hell is up with guys and car sun visors?  Why are they always cramming crap up in the visor??  It’s not a pocket guys, it’s a sun visor.  If you’re driving down the road and the sun decides to be all rude and intrusive and shift just enough to blind you, you should be able to flip down the handy sun visor and reclaim your ability to see once again.  But, if you are lucky enough to be sharing vehicle use with a male, this is not an option.  Nope, the second you try to move that damn visor, you are assaulted by mail and glasses and whatever else they thought to cram into the visor.  Like, do they WANT you to shriek and swerve off the road and possibly die in a fiery blaze??  Cause that is just rude y’all.  So all you fellas that do this, STOP IT!  Other wise, you will totally be responsible for a fiery blaze sort of death and you’ll probably go to prison and some dude named Vito will make you his bitch and you won’t get visitors or mail, ’cause who wants to visit the guy that killed some poor person via sun visor?  Trust me, it’s just not worth the risk.  Stop using the damn sun visor as a pocket and everyone wins.

So, back in the day, my buddy Caron and I were often left to entertain ourselves while the adults did their adult thing.  I’m fairly certain this was not the best choice on their part, but whatever.  Anywho, Caron and I did all sorts of stuff to stay entertained and such.  We played tennis in the street, tried our hands at a vague version of golf (which, incidentally, ended with us having to ask her very baffled neighbor if we could retrieve our golf CLUB from their backyard), we did mad libs and watched t.v. for ungodly amounts of time and tested the hit-the-buttons-randomly-and-rapidly-until-something-cool-happens style of Nintendo playing and various other random things to pass the time.  Well, one day, we got it in our heads to try creating a bizarre sort of concoction consisting of every single liquid substance available in my house.  Literally.  Every.  Single.  Liquid.  Cleaners and booze and condiments and god knows what else went into our coffee can.  It was super fascinating and fun…right up until it dawned on us that we now had a coffee can filled with a rather frighteningly noxious creation that had to be disposed of before the adults came home and expected some sort of rational explanation for our experiment.  Well shit.  We totally had not thought ahead on this.  So, we had the brilliant idea to just dump it out near the gravel drive thingy in my back yard.  Problem solved.  We spent a few minutes feeling all smart and such, then promptly forgot all about it.  So when, months later, my mom’s boyfriend called us into the backyard, we thought nothing of it.  And then he showed us the perfect circle of dead grass which stubbornly refused to allow any life to flourish within its boundaries.  So they we were, mom’s bf looking at us expectantly and asking if we had any idea what could have happened there, and Caron and I trying desperately to think up some sort of it-definitely-wasn’t-us explanation.  Grass killing maniacs?  serial grass killers?  Crop circles?  I mean, that one could work, right?  There’s always stories of those mean ole’ aliens making circles wherever they feel like it and creating small scale mayhem in the process.  And, if you look at it the right way, even if maybe it wasn’t aliens, maybe the fact that it looked all crop-circle-y saved us from a genuine alien visit.  Like, maybe they saw the crop circle thing and thought that one of their buddy crews had already been there, so they just went to the next place and left us alone.  Seriously, we may have saved lives here!  Thanks to our ingeniousness, aliens didn’t crop-cicle us and nobody got probed or abducted.  Really, we should get medals.


Why do people think the general public needs to know gross things about our bodies?  Like, why the hell do we need to know about the icky buggy things that reside on our bodies at all times?  As a rule, I avoid any and all shows that try to force this information on me, but sometimes the sneaky bastards just cram crap into a commercial and I see it and then I freak out ’cause there’s FREAKING BUGS LIVING ON MY FACE!  On my face, y’all.  And on your face.  And you’re cousin’s best friend’s face.  WTEFF?!?!?  I do not want to know about this and I super hate the fuckers that made the commercial that not only told me about this nightmarish infestation–they threw in a freaking picture of the evil little face-dwelling monstrosities.  I do apologize for sharing this with you, but at least I didn’t post a picture of the nasty things.  Speaking of nasty little icky things, what the hell is the point of leeches??  Like, what purpose do they serve?  What’s up with their existence?  Who decided to eat frog legs?  And why just the legs?  Are their little froggy arms not tasty enough?  Froggy is totally a word spellcheck!  You’re just mean and judgy and….judgy is a word too, damn it!  I finished my Bloggess book and it was AH-MAZING!

Toodles, poodles!

Forced To Create The Term Douchebaggette, A Year Ended And It Begins Again, Tidbits From My Family Visit, And Further Ramblings


I am one of those people who tries very, very hard to be the best friend I can possibly be.  I try so hard that I tend to let folks walk all over me in my attempts to remain loyal and reliable and such.  One of the folks who took advantage of my die-hard friendship ideal reached a whole new level of horrendousness (that is totally a world, spellcheck, you’re just being an asshole).  This person, whom I had supported and loved despite the countless words of advice I received to sever ties with her, not only repaid my devotion with deplorable behavior, she decided I owed her for things she claimed to be doing out of friendship.  This person, who once left me stranded at the emergency room to go spend time with her jackass pothead boyfriend, apparently felt it appropriate to demand money from me.  Her behavior forced me to create the term douchebaggette.  So, I guess I almost owe her a thank you for helping me come up with this fantastic new terminology.  Except she’s a total douchebaggette and therefore is undeserving of a thank you.  Instead, I thank my delightful brain for creating this nifty new insult.  Yay for my brain!

2015 ended on a rather shitty note for me in the whole losing my job sort of way, though it did also end with an awesome visit with the fam, which served to make me significantly less bitter.  2016 looms before me, full of equal measures of dread and hope.  I am jobless, but I hope to find something far better than the previous job.  I am financially depressed, but I am totally used to living in broke-land so whatever.  In other words, bring it on 2016.

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Just some of my fave pics of miss Chloe from my recent visit.  We have some attitude and some artistic activity and a silly face and, of course, more gang signs.  I love this little girl so much.  She makes me laugh and drives me bonkers and gives amazing hugs and can make even the darkest day so much brighter.  I had a great time hanging out with her and spending time with her Elise and Alex and Drew and Carrie and Steve and Scott and Judy and Kellen ( I totally know I’m spelling her name wrong and for this I apologize profusely) and Sierra and Mike.  Touring Chloe’s new school, enjoying meals together, watching Born This Way together (which Chloe refers to as watching the big kids–she loves that show!), having bizarre conversations with Drew involving a platypus and a spider named Chico, making art projects and ringing in the new year at Gigi’s Playhouse–I loved every minute.  And Pierre had an adventure of his own too.  When I first got there, there were too many cars in the driveway, so I parked Pierre on the street nearby.  Well, a couple days went by and I didn’t need to drive Pierre, and there were still cars in the drive for most of the time, so I left Pierre on the street.  Then weather happened.  First it sleeted, then it snowed, then it sleeted and snowed.  The next day, plows came through.  As you can probably guess, poor Pierre got a bit buried.  Okay, a lot buried.  Like, to the tops of his tires and can’t open the doors buried.  It took Carrie and Steve and several kind neighbors and a tow cable to extract poor Pierre from the mound of snow and ice.


Have I metioned I’m rather tired of being sick?  Not like, sick sick, just not better and still coughing my face off.  I have so much frickin’ candy and junk food left from Christmas time, it’s rather mind-boggling.  At the rate I’m going through it, I might have it gone by next Christmas…possibly…if I have help.  How do they find all these tragically beautiful/adorable children and animals for the charity commercials?  Like, do they have auditions?  Advertisements for children with the biggest, most soulful eyes ever?  God help my bank account if I ever get rich and have money to give these huge-eyed waifs and the raggedy mournful critters…I’d be broke in no time.  I just love the Discovery Life channel!  They have all sorts of nifty trauma shows and medical docs and such.  I just watched one show where a kid came in and his foot was all floppy and hanging by a dinky looking piece of skin and such–so fascinating!  Now there’s a cop with a dislocated knee and he’s all kinds of not loving the pain or the idea of being un-drugged when they pop the kneecap back in place (why is that even an option?!?  who wants to be all aware and coherent and such when they do that?!?!)

Asta la pasta kiddies!