Thursday, September 30, 2010

The Only Reason I Look Hot in Glasses is because I can't See Without Them

well...that guy's excused

Busy today so I will make this short and sweet, like me. Booyah! That joke was for all your grandmas out there.

I posted a link earlier on the FB of the Justin Timberlake/ Jimmy Fallon video. I will not go into details now about the video, you can go ahead and google that if this is the first time you have checked the internet today.

In the video, Mr. JT is wearing glasses. I want to say that I have seen him wear glasses before, meaning that he actually needs those glasses and he is not just posing with glasses because he is a hipster douche. But I can’t be sure, but since it is Justin Timberlake, he can have all the passes he wants to both my heart and my bajingo.

But this brings me to something that needs to be discussed…why do designer, non-prescription, non-sun glasses exist? Fashion glasses, if you will.

As someone who has been forced to wear her glasses lately because my two-week contacts just had their third birthday and I can’t afford new ones or the eye exam that I will need to go with them, I feel glasses can be more of a burden than a fashion statement.

Every time I would walk outside from being in a cold building to the humid summer heat, they fog up. It’s impossible to lay down comfortably with them on. You can’t open the oven without being blinded from steam. I have to be thisclose to the mirror when getting ready so I can actually see what I am doing. They get in the way when doing anything to your hair. Glasses can be a pain in the ass. So why, WHY would you choose to wear glasses when you don’t need them. And, more importantly, how stupid do you feel when a glasses-wearer asks you what prescription you wear and your response is “Yeah, these are fashion glasses” and for how long did they laugh at you?

It’s like rolling yourself around in a wheelchair when you can easily walk. It may not be as extreme as that, but it’s just as stupid. It’s like when you were a kid and you put a paper clip in your mouth and pretended to have braces. It’s that dumb and pointless.

If you would like bad eyesight so you can look cool in your hipster glasses, I’ve got an eclipse you can stare at…

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

This is all I have time to post today

I feel as though it's worth it though.

It has nothing to do with anything.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

I'm a Mother Fucking Icon!

funny awesome photos 13 Best photos of the week (50 Photos)
This picture has nothing to do with anything. I found it amusing. That's all.

I find myself with nothing to post today. I have actually been semi-busy and unable to devote the usual amount of time to blog genius. I will leave you with a few random things:

Upcoming Topics:

"Yeah, You are Going to Need to Watch This Show"- What show you ask? oooohhhh aaaahhhhh. The intrigue... It's gonna keep you guessing until I get around to writing it. Booyah! Readership! Drinkability!

"My Relationship With Yarn" - Don't let the title fool you, it's a mother fucking page turner, things may get a little dirty...

"Untitled; I don't have a title yet"- It's an ongoing blogrospective, if you will, on how exactly a person like me came from a family like mine. It's boggles the mind grapes.

And I will leave you with this from Texts from Last Night. This may not be something that cool people still read but I never, ever claimed I was cool (except I have and I am):


Why did I post this you ask? I don't know, it spoke to me. And I can see myself saying this exact same thing except I wouldn't be watching Titanic and instead of holding a fishing pole it would probably be a dirty paper towel. I am always holding paper towels, I can not tell you why.

Until tomorrow, my three faithful readers...

(and, no, the topic to this had nothing to do with the content, I just felt like quoting Kenny Powers...I miss you baby)

Monday, September 27, 2010


Why does my sister feel that I really need to see the giant turd that
Whitman just expelled. She even sent him up here to tell me, "It's a
big, big one! It's a nake!" and then he cried when I refused to go
look at it.

And then my sister is all "No! You have to see this!" She took a
picture of it with her phone and then showed it to me? Why? Why do
moms feel this is necessary?

I can't be sure but I think she just measured it.

Sent from my iPhone

It's Asshole Monday!

I wasn’t in a ranty mood when I woke up this morning but I quickly got there on the way to work when the black Chevy Malibu in front of me pelted my car with the garbage from their morning fast food breakfast.

I, personally, think there are fewer people that are scummier than litterers. Sure, you have child molesters and wife beaters and murderers and rapists, but of the every day asshole that doesn’t get jail time and may not actually deserve a life sentence, it doesn’t get much worse than litterers (except for maybe people that park in handicap spots that aren’t handicapped).

The world is not your garbage can and neither is your local area interstate. If you ate one of everything on the McDonald’s breakfast menu (and judging by your high speed garbage flinging this morning on 385, I’d say you did) and you don’t want anyone you work with to know, save that garbage for when you get your fat, lazy, fast food breakfast guzzling ass home. Fear that your precious Chevy Malibu will smell of rotting pig flesh like, no doubt, your breath does? DON’T EAT IN YOUR FUCKING CAR!

It’s really not that hard to refrain from littering. You just don’t do it. It’s as simple as that. It really is.

I ousted this asshole on facebook and I was given this link in response:

You can tell on people for littering. Awesome. I am going to abuse the shit out of this. It might have made my day…until this…

People around here talk about football, which I am sure most people do at work on Mondays, I don’t listen because: A. Football is stupid and boring. 2. I usually have no clue of who/ what they are talking about. III. I have too much to read on Google Reader to be bothered with such nonsense.  But I did pick up on something today that made me go, “Hmmmm…that asshole can die now.”

I heard the name Michael Vick. The only reason I know who he is, is because of the dog fighting which no one should ever, ever forgive him for. Ever. I can’t tell you exactly what they were saying about him or even the team he plays for, but I could tell that he is the starting something or other for some football team. Maybe it was starting quarterback, maybe it was starting waterboy, maybe it was starting third baseman. I don’t know. The point is, really? Michael Vick?

Dog fighting. Anyone? Anyone? The only thing this asshole should be starting is starting to heal from the numerous ass rapes in prison and just when he thinks his glory hole has healed, someone else comes along and rips it to shreds, vein by vein. Yes, I went there because that is exactly what this piece of shit deserves. Why are people discussing him and saying good things about him when he deserves to never be thought of in a nice manner ever again. He deserves nothing good in life ever. Not until a retaliatory pit bull is unleashed on him and rips his balls off. Maybe when that happens, he can be redeemed but until this fuck that guy.

And since we are on the subject of people that should be in jail and/or murdered by a vigilante, fuck Chris Brown. Why is this asshole still putting out music and why are people listening to it? He beats women. He has beaten a lot of women. And then he goes on Twitter and says that things are finally starting to look up for him. What? Are we supposed to give you a pat on the back and a “Hang in there, champ!” since your life is finally looking up since you, you know, haven’t beaten a woman in a while? Do you want your fucking cookie now? How about a phallic one, because you can eat all sorts of dicks.

Why is it that people forgive famous people for atrocities that they commit? Roman Polanski sexually abused a 13 year old, yet he’s considered a genius for the movies he makes. Really? He’s, like, a pedophile. So is R Kelly and he pees on people, yet he is still making music and he still has fans.

It. Boggles. The. Mind. And infuriates the shit out of me.

This now concludes my Monday Rant. Maybe every Monday I will rant about something. Although I find myself with few things to be ranty about these days. Things are going well-ish and I find myself not being able to complain about much. But that doesn’t mean I can’t find something.

Friday, September 24, 2010

Thankfully, I was at least semi-clothed

The past couple of days have NOT been my jam.

Yesterday morning as I am hauling ass to my car to then haul ass to work, I notice that my bag (some people call them purses, I call them bags) seems a little lighter than usual. I ignored that and just went on about my half day that I took yesterday. Before I left for work, I go into my bag to look for…something and I notice that my giant lady wallet is not there.

I didn’t immediately start to freak out. I assumed it was just at home somewhere. I would go on about the things I needed to do and look for it when I got home. No need to freak out just yet. I left work at 12:00 and I went and picked up Stella and all of her things and I headed home.

I got home, unloaded Stella and I started looking for my wallet. I looked everywhere. The kitchen. The living room. My room. The bathroom. The boys room. Outside. Nothing. My room is in a disheveled mess right now due to the great yarn reorganization 2010 so there is yarn everywhere. I looked through every bin, basket and shelf thinking that maybe in my yarn haze I took my wallet out of my bag for some reason I can not think of at this moment and put it in my yarn. Yes, that does seem absurd but who knows, really?

I apparently don’t because I still haven’t found that fucker. It’s not at work. I called security and the front desk to see if a wallet has been turned in. Nope. The last place I remember using it was Target on Wednesday. I called Target yesterday to see if I was just stupid enough to leave it there.  They didn’t see one but they told me to call back in about an hour to talk to the retail manager because he sometimes keeps things in his office like lost wallets from stupid people.  

What really, really sucks is that, of course my license is in there AND my social security card. Yes, I know that you aren’t supposed to have your social security card in your wallet in case it gets stolen, but I since I got a new job, guess what you are going to need??? A Social Security card so I haven’t taken it out of my wallet yet. So not only do I have to get a new license, I have to get a new social security card as well. Say it with me…Fuck. My. Life.

And it still could possibly be at Target but I wouldn’t know. I failed to call back because I locked myself out of the house.

You see, Whitman has this obsession with locking doors. Not sure why, he just wants to make sure all doors are locked. We had to break into my bathroom one day because he successfully locked everyone out. We have those tricky door knobs that you just push the button in to lock the doors. Easy enough for a three-year-old to lock any door.

Christy even told me a few days ago that she is terrified that Whitman is going to lock everyone out of the house one day from his constant door locking. Well he didn’t lock everyone out, just me. I have, so far, been the only person locked out of the house.  Why was I even outside, you ask? Let me drop some knowledge:

Stella had just gone out a couple hours ago but she drank a lot of water when we got home so I decided to let her out.  I let her out the back door and she just stared at me. I know what this look means. It means that she doesn’t want to go out by herself, she wants you out there with her. So, being the good dog owner I am, I went out there with her. And, naturally, I shut the door behind me.

Stella did her business and I turned to go back inside, set on taking a nice nap for an hour or two when…the knob wouldn’t turn. Sometimes it sticks and you think it’s locked but it’s not. That was not the case yesterday. I tried for longer than I care to admit here to turn the knob in hopes that it would give. It didn’t.  And, as it turns out, unleashing a string of vile and offensive words at the door in rapid succession, doesn’t make the door want to open either, for future reference.

I am not sure what time this was. If I had to guess, I would say it was a few minutes before 3:00.  Ron doesn’t get home until 4:30 so I had close to two hours locked outside of the house. They do have a garage keypad but no one knows the code yet and this wouldn’t have mattered anyway because I didn’t have a phone to call anyone and say  “Hey, I locked myself out of the house…yes, yes I know that is stupid…can you give me the garage code…you don’t know it?...well I guess I will just wait until Ron gets home…”

I have little doubt that that is exactly how the conversation would have gone so having a phone or not, wouldn’t have mattered. I was locked in the outside quadrant of the house. Fuckity fuck fuck!

I came in through the front door when I got home and I went in and out of it several times looking for my wallet and ransacking my car for it so I thought “Wow, it sure would be lucky if I left the front door unlocked.”

I didn’t have shoes on and our driveway/ walkway isn’t just paved with the gravel cement shit that is hell on your feet, I swear to you that it is paved in small, sharp, jutting boulders.  So I walked to the front door, braving jagged, pointy hell on bare feet and I tried to see if maybe, just MAYBE it was unlocked. It wasn’t. I then had to walk back over the boulders to the backyard, where I waited.  

In retrospect, it wasn’t that bad.  I sat with my feet in the pool and just hung out. It was warm yesterday so I could have actually gotten into the pool and hung out there but I only had on a tank top and shorts. And I wasn’t about to get in with clothes on and taking them off at 3:00 in the afternoon for a skinny dip in Collierville was out of the question. I think they arrest people for that there. And I have no desire to appear naked in my sister’s pool when her husband gets home with their two children. I just don’t. So I settled on wading under a large acorn tree that pelted me with hard acorns every 15 minutes when the wind blew hard enough to shake them loose.

Stella, being an asshole, wanted to go in. She was bored with the outside and she needed to explore the house a little more, so she would stand outside the door and whine. Dummy. I tried to explain to her that she can whine all she wants but we aren’t going anywhere any time soon.  She didn’t quite grasp what I was trying to say and she continued sitting there, whining and looking at me like “I don’t understand why you don’t just open the door? You’re so MEAN!”

When Ron finally got home I let Whitman know that he locked me out of the house and it was all his fault for having an obsessive need to lock doors. He replied by putting his hand on my arm and saying, “I sowwy.” I couldn’t really be mad after that. I wasn’t even mad, it was more funny that the day I notice my wallet missing is also the day that I lock my dumb ass out of the house.

When Christy got home she asked “Why didn’t you just go next door the neighbors (Mr. Roper) and wait there?” Was she high? Does she know me? The chances of me knocking on a near stranger’s door and hanging out in their home for hours in inappropriately short shorts and a tank top that really should have had a bra worn with it, are non existent. I suck more than anyone at small talk and it was bad enough that I lost my wallet and locked myself out of the house in the same day so, no, I wasn’t going to make my day even worse by hanging out with Mr. Roper. Homey don’t play that.  

I have so far cancelled my check card and ordered new checks and the thought of getting a new license makes me want to cry. I was just there in JUNE and now you are telling me I have to go back?

Wallet, wherever you are, please turn up. You are my newish, awesome, red Hello Kitty wallet and I love you and I miss you. Come home to me. Show yourself you big coward?!? Where in the living fuck are you?

Thursday, September 23, 2010

I Won't Be Sleeping Alone Tonight!

The cuteness in this picture is overwhelming

Why, yes, I am leaving at 12:00 today for a half day. Woohoo! You have to love a half day. It would have been slightly better if I didn’t have to come in tomorrow but oh well. I takes what I can gets.

I am picking up Stella (my Chihuahua) this afternoon and taking her home. Yessss!

David and I have joint custody of the dogs.  I am not allowed to have dogs at my new home because my sister is a heartless dog hater so I will have to wait it out and see them whenever I can and that includes for the next TWO WEEKS! I am so excited. And yes I told the boys as soon as she said yes so that she couldn’t change her mind. Unfair? Maybe. Do I care? No. And they are both super pumped about having a dog in the house.  I just have to keep them from feeding her everything in the house. They love to feed dogs. I don’t know why that is…

David is going to Germany for two weeks and my sister has ever so graciously allowed me to keep Stella at home with me.  Unfortunately, she didn’t allow me to have both Ruby and Smokey at the house during this time and I understand. They are super hyper and Garrett is terrified of both of them but one is enough for now. I’m pretty excited. I miss my damn dogs.

What else?

I have trouble remembering things and that leads to me posting blog ideas via gmail iphone email while making dinner. If I didn’t post it then, I would have quickly forgotten. Sad, yes, but that is what years of hard living does to you. I live so hard…

Anyhoo, you know like on real blogs they have features from time to time? Like STFU, Parents does a “Mom’s Gold Star” once a week and Pajiba does Afternoon Comment Diversions every now and again. Well I will start posting adventures in vegetarianism. I know, I know. It sounds really exciting and monumental. I know. Maybe my mishaps in attempting to cook with foreign objects and such. Or really gross substitutions for meat. And when I am confronted with a fried turkey, what am I am going do, etc. Also you can keep up with small minded individuals who judge, I love to post about t hat. And, like I attempted to say in my ill-fated email post from last night, I will not post recipes unless asked. No one wants to read a recipe on a blog while at work while pretending to work. They just don’t.

I just need to think of something to call this feature…

I am pretty sure that is all I have today. I am too set on getting out the door to really drum up anything else for you people. So booyah to ya, blog readers. See you bitches tomorrow!

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Hurtling Towards a Point

I think I might start a specific regular or whatever for this blog.
Calling it something to do with vegetables and my progress with

Cooking fiascos and such. I promise not to post unless asked.

Sent from my iPhone

Eating Meat - heh, I said meat...

Poor piggies...
So I am a newish vegetarian. I stopped eating meat in April and I haven’t eaten any since.  

I usually only get asked one really, really stupid question when people find out:

“You don’t eat chicken???”

The last time I checked, chicken is meat. Meat Eaters – Please stop asking this question. Last week Christy was making chicken salad with canned chicken (I didn’t even eat canned chicken when I ate meat).  She asked me if I wanted any and I reminded her that I don’t eat meat. Her response:

“Well, yeah, but it’s in a can…”

What? She tried to make sense of this by saying that I have eaten canned tuna since I quit eating meat. I explained to her that what she had in her hand is in fact chicken, not tuna. Her response:

“It’s probably the same thing.”

Again, WHAT?! Are you Jessica Simpson? Did you just tell me that canned tuna and canned chicken are the same thing? It doesn’t even say “Chicken of the Sea.” Where is your confusion coming from?  I still don’t really understand the point she was trying to make nor do I think she got the point I was trying to make that what was in the can is still chicken. Genius, that one.

Since we started with this topic, might as well go into other, normal questions I get asked.


I love documentaries and non-fiction books that expose things…like the meat industry and factory farming. It all started when I read Fast Food Nation and then I saw the movie and then I saw Food, Inc and then I read Eating Animals. From that point on, I was pretty much done. The level of shit (literal actual feces and figurative shit of the bull kind) that animals are put through is astounding and it will break you heart/ gag reflex. No, I don’t expect people to feel an emotional connection to a random ass chicken but what if I told you that this chicken was grown so rapidly from being fed increasing amounts of hormones so a “full grown” chicken can be sold to you, the consumer, in record time that this chicken is malformed that it can’t walk or hold its head up. Tasty, no?

Anyhoo, I won’t preach to you. I’m not a judgmental vegetarian. If it’s something you are interested in, look into it. There are scads of information out there for you. My point is, meat is gross and I don’t eat it anymore. That’s why.

I still eat fish so I guess, technically, I am a pescatarian. Yes, it is very hypocritical to not give a fuck about fish or their well being, but I love sushi and I am not willing to give that up. I’m an asshole. Yes, I can eat vegetable sushi, but vegetable sushi sucks. And I actually haven’t eaten fish in about two months so I am going to try and cut that out as well. So far I haven’t even noticed not having it, however I haven’t been out to sushi and sake for two months either so that will the be the real test.

The second most asked question:

“Do you miss it?”

The answer, yes and no.  I wasn’t a big meat eater anyway so it wasn’t that hard of a transition. I would never, ever order meat at restaurants, with the exception of fish. I don’t know why this is.  I am going to blame food poisoning, mostly. I have had food poisoning more than any person I know and it has always came from restaurants.  At a certain point when do you tell yourself “Okay maybe let’s stop eating meat served to me via a wait staff.”

The smell of fried chicken is a toughy. It still smells good even though I would never eat it and the thought of eating chicken is not a pleasant one. But the smell, oh the smell…it still makes my mouth water a little bit.

The smell of bacon still does nothing for me. I hate pork and I think bbq is overrated. Ham is the animal equivalent to human flesh and I don’t see how people eat it and tear through the spongy, fatty carcass with their teeth and still manage to choke that shit down. GROSS.

I also miss hamburgers and good char grilled hot dog. Not enough to eat either of them but they are sorely missed. And I don’t want to think about fried turkey. We will  just ignore that and keep on trucking…

Third most asked question:

“What do you eat???” – and this question is usually followed by the rolling  of the eyes from meat eaters which is fucking rude.

I have no problem finding things to eat. It is a bit tougher when searching for things on the go but it’s not impossible. Fast food is pretty much out of the question. Most fast food places don’t cater to the vegetarian and it they do, it’s usually a measly veggie burger with no taste which usually ends up pissing me off.  And I think the only establishment that does is Burger King and maybe Backyard Burger, but I could be wrong about that.

My pick for a vegetarian burger would be Huey’s black bean burger. You can substitute a black bean patty for any burger on the menu and it’s excellent. It also has more of the same consistency as a real burger. Maybe not a hamburger, but it’s a pretty good substitution for a turkey burger, which is what I would get anyway.

If you think “vegetarian” means that I eat healthy, let me assure you, it does not. However, it does force you to at least think healthier and I do eat better than I used to but I won’t be winning any “healthiest eater” awards any time soon. I’m trying more vegetarian recipes and cooking with tofu and chick peas and other things that can be substituted for meat so not eating and not being able to find anything to eat has yet to be an issue for me, but I will eat anything. I love food and I will try anything so finding food is easy peasy. But, honestly, I have no idea how picky vegetarians find anything to eat. You have to be willing to eat anything if you are going to go without a huge food group like meat.  

So what other questions do you filthy meat eaters have for me?

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

It's Bad Enough My Sister has a Facebook

I would like to take this time to thank my mother. Not for being a great mom or any of that sappy shit, I am thanking her simply because she doesn’t have a Facebook. Thanks, mom!

I am pretty sure my mother wouldn’t know what to do with a Facebook if she had one and that is fine with me. She isn’t exactly tech savvy and she gets uncomfortable even ordering things online.  I am also pretty sure that she doesn’t know how to check her voicemail as of yet, but I could be wrong about that.  There are many things she does well, but technology isn’t one of them.

Parents and Facebook, just don’t mix. They don’t.*

I have no doubt that a lot of moms/ parents can handle the Facebook and the way their offspring act on it, but you just know that some can’t. I am going to say that most can’t handle the youth (I can’t take credit for that, I stole it from Lifetime).

I am sure there are some parents out there that keep up with their own shit on FB. They don’t care what their kids are doing and they have their own lives and friends to tend to, but most parents, I would imagine, just want to spy on their kids, which is understandable, but not that cool.

Facebook is really only for a few different things: looking at pictures, making fun of things, stalking, whoring out products/ events/ blogs, and stupidity. If you aren’t using it for any of those reasons, you should be. It’s what it’s there for!

But do you really want to know that much about your children? Do you really need to know that they are gearing up for Friday night? Do you even want to know how wasted they got this past weekend? Does it behoove you to know that your children are drunken morons that are more or less full of shit? I am going to say no. Just…no.

I, personally, think my parents are too cool for Facebook. They aren’t nosy and they are shocked by very little that I do.  Their take on anything that either of their children do is “You are going to do whatever you want no matter what I say.” That is exactly right. They both ignore that I am a certain way and we go on about our lives, it works for us.

However, I have found that some things I do say actually get back to my parents and you know who you are! Nothing I say on FB should ever, ever be taken for anything other than garbage (shit, I even named my blog after it!), so why certain people feel the need to blab to two parents would could not care less that their daughter says “fuck” a lot, supports the gays, or has a penchant for watching stupid people in movies get stabbed, I have no idea. NO ONE CARES! Maybe we are taking ourselves and this BS social networking site a little too seriously? Yes? I think so.

There is also a blog about this exact thing, it’s a phenomenon sadly sweeping the nation:

*To all the FB parents out there, take no offense. I once had a tongue ring and I still have a tribal butterfly lower back tattoo so my opinion means very little.

Monday, September 20, 2010

Is that a Documented Medical Condition?

This is a real, live add campaign for Gushers. For reals.  

If you need to watch the commercial, here you go:

I was sitting on the couch last night, quietly watching Home Alone 2 and this commercial came on for a kid with a blue gusher for an eye. I sat there for a second in confused disbelief, “What the fuck am I watching?” was my first thought. I looked around me to see if this was an actual thing. Was I tripping? Is this actually on my television set at this moment? Did someone slip acid into my beer? How drunk was I? I know I only had one beer and Bud Light, (I am broke as hell and it was free, don’t judge, drinkability!) though disgusting, is not strong in any way. Was I tripping balls? Had to be.

If you choose, smartly, to not watch the commerical, let me break it down for you. It’s a kid. With a blue gusher for an eye and he goes around town, I think on a skateboard if I recall correctly, and he squirts liquid blue sugar FROM HIS EYE into children’s mouths. The ingenious adults at Gushers Corporate Headquarters thought taking something that could be considered a severe medical condition, if not a disability, could sell the shit out of fruit snacks. What?

I love Gushers as much as the next 29-year-old who loves fruit snacks filled with sugary liquid, but this is not appealing to me. It actually makes me like them less. But I thought, “Maybe it appeals to the younguns,” so I turned to Garrett and asked “Does this commercial make you want to eat Gushers?”

Garrett: Gushers? Do we have those now? I want some Gushers…

Whitman: *overhearing* Gushers? Gushers are my favorite. I want some Gushers.

Me: No, no, we don’t have any but this commercial is for Gushers and I find it grody, but I am an old lady. Do you want to eat Gushers after seeing this commercial?

Garrett and Whitman: *crying because we don’t have any Gushers*

So I will never know if it appeals to children or not, but it shouldn’t and I find it creepy and off putting.  And do Gushers really have to be advertised this severely? Just show some kids eating Gushers, SOLD! It’s sugar filled with sugar. It shouldn’t take that many advertising dollars to sell these. An ad campaign featuring the most disgusting child alive isn’t necessary to sell sugar to children. It sells itself.

Is gross-out marketing the new thing? Are we selling products now by making them seem abhorrent and hideous? Is this the last advertising frontier?  

Friday, September 17, 2010


I'm going to say if your attitude was that "bad ass" you wouldn't need
a sticker informing the world. It would be evident in your do rag or
assless chaps or macrame skills or whatever people with "bad ass"
attitudes wear or do that make them so bad ass.

Is it Just Me...

Or does Bill Clinton seem like one smooth mother fucker? Like I can
honestly see how he could charm some panties off some chicks. You know?

Sent from my iPhone

There Ain't Nothin Wrong With a Little Bump and Grind

There just isn’t.

I think my good moods at work are directly related to the radio station that I am forced to listen to. I won’t say forced. I have been given the option of changing it to whatever I would like, and sometimes I listen to the iphone but the new 101 Jams, or whatever they are calling it these days, isn’t bad.  Not to shabby.

It is virtually impossible to be in a bad mood while listening to Motown Philly and how it’s back again. Morris Day and the mother fucking Time is played at least once an hour and you can’t listen about Jungle Love and not smile. Try it. It is impossible. I think I want to know ya, know ya.

I am not saying that I love some of the new R & B shit that they play. Like the new Mary J Blige makes my ears bleed and the new Usher is a giant, whiny turd of a song, but for the most part they don’t play many new jams and this works for me because, as most of you know, I went to Bartlett. 

I find myself dancing in my chair several times a day. And not just tapping my foot. Straight up rocking back and forth and severe arm movements. It’s okay. They don’t judge around here.  The lady I work with sings along to the radio, so she sings and I dace. It’s how we roll.

And how is it that I don’t remember a lot of anything, but I can still remember every word to every SWV song that was released in the 90s? Anyone? Anyone?

Old school R & B, it’s my jam.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

This is Daniel

Stacey asked me to log in and see if I could set up a template on this site to make it look cooler.  I haven't started that yet, still trying to learn exactly how, but know this: there will be tits.  Oh yes, there will be tits.  At least 3.
Follow me in Twitter so I can update you on blogs and such. Do it. You know you want to. I'm an awesome person to follow. Take time to do that now:
I'm pretty sure I'm going to take the Internet by storm. By STORM!

You can email your blogs too, dude

Post to my blog dammit!

My god, there's not enough salt in the world for her.

In honor of one of my favorite shows coming back to television tonight I will base this blog on that, because that is how excited I am (haters move aside):

It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.

As I have said before, this is not a show for everyone. It’s highly offensive to women, children, waitresses, black people, white people, fat people, old people, ugly people, dyslexic people, hippies, the homeless, incest survivors, Catholics, Germans, Hispanics, the Irish, Koreans, Sinbad, you name it, really. If there is a group of people alive that haven’t been directly insulted by this show, please wait. It’s coming, I assure you.

So why, you ask, is this show still on the air and it hasn’t been boycotted by the Christian collation and the DVD’s haven’t been burned by religious extremists? I think that a lot of people either don’t know that this show exists and if they did, they probably figure that no one watches it anyway. That, and not one character on this show has any redeeming qualities. Not a one.

Hi. I'm a recovering crack head. This is my retarded sister that I take care of. I'd like some welfare, please. – Dennis Reynolds

The premise of the show is pretty simple: The five worst people in America own a bar. A shitty bar that was voted the worst bar in Philadelphia. Obviously, they don’t make much money from this bar so the majority of their days are spent attempting to acquire money and/ or fame through murder, hostile takeovers, sexual memoirs, selling Nazi memorabilia, getting set on fire, dancing in diapers on public access television, selling gasoline and committing sundry other atrocities to the human race. All in the name of fame and fortune, which none of them ever get. And though they never get the riches they feel they deserve, they also never have to pay any form of consequences for any of their actions.

Cannibalism? Racism? Dude that's not for us...those decisions are better left to the suits in Washington. We're just here to eat some dude! - Charlie

They also drink and swear a lot which endears them to me. There is also a fair amount of glue huffing and every character has been addicted to something throughout the history of the show, be it steroids, crack, cocaine or human meat. And even though they are drunken swearing assholes with a predilection towards addiction, I love each of them. Plus they have one of the best recurring characters of any show ever…

Artemis. Hands down, amazing. If you need proof of this, I need to refer you to the episode titled, “Who Pooped the Bed?” Yes, it was an entire show solving a mystery of who pooped the bed in the middle of the night. And it was AWESOME. And Artemis is actually her real name and I find that gnarly.

Hi! Name's Artemis... I have a bleached asshole... Im gonna take my bra off, blast my nips. - Artemis

And, yes, it is very low brow humor. It’s stupid comedy at it’s stupidest. No one is going to think you are smart or witty for “getting” this show because there is nothing to get. What you see is all that there is. Garrett even cracks up at this show and he is five! (Yes, I know I shouldn’t be letting a toddler watch this profane show but I can’t always turn the TV off every time he comes into the room. If he picks up a few choice words or phrases from it, so be it. I promise you it is nothing that he hasn’t heard slip out of my mouth a time or two.)

So go ahead and either pop that shirt off or suit up as Greenman and watch Sunny, tonight at 9:00 on FX. Please and thank you. You won’t regret it. And, no, you don’t have to watch any of the previous episodes to know what is going on. I think you are overestimating the quality of this show…

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Teetee Transactions i.e. if I sit in piss one more time...

In my new digs, as kids these days call it, I have a room that at 16-year-old would drool over, so my cause for complaining is minimal. Especially when I live there for free. This house, however, does not come with my own bathroom.

Have you ever shared a bathroom with two toddler boys? Not even the entire bathroom, just the toilet. Their pee is highlighter yellow (it’s either that yellow from not drinking enough or the toxic qualities of Capri Suns and KoolAid Kool Bursts) and they refuse to flush. Whitman is scared of the noise a flushing toilet makes, and Garrett doesn’t flush OR put the seat up out of either laziness or apathy, and I kinda think that he finds it hilarious to pee on the seat. Especially after I audibly groan after sitting on a toilet seat wet with bright yellow droplets of pee and then I yell the first syllables of several curse words.

There is now a cash reward for getting all urine in the toilet. A quarter for every successful Teetee Transaction.

Yes, I am serious. Don’t look at me like that. And don’t try to tell me that toddlers can’t aim. They can so! I’ve seen it with my own two eyes. I personally think they get pee everywhere for the hell of it. They know what to do, they just choose to pee on things. If they were blessed with a vulgar and inappropriate vocabulary at this age, I would imagine them saying something like this, “BAM! I straight up pissed everywhere, suckas! And you can’t bitch at me for it, because I’m still a baby!”

The question you are asking yourself is this: But Stacey how will you even know when they teetee? Don’t you worry. They have yet to enter any bathroom without the entire house being informed of whatever is about to go down. They do everything short of conference calling that shit in. I have been woken up before because one of them had to pee.

I personally think they are searching for that long lost congratulatory “YAY!” when they first started potty training. That ship has long sailed, now if you could please quit fucking around and get all your pee in the toilet, that’d be great. Please and thank you. And here is a quarter, spend it wisely.


To anyone that has been paying attention to fb for the past few months you may have noticed some changes that have yet to be explained to you. I realize I owe metaphorical facebook stalkers no explanation but some unfortunate things have happened this year and I might as well put everything out in the open now.

Through no fault of anyones, I have found myself 29-years-old, divorced and living in my sister’s gameroom with her and her family in Collierville. To say this is not where I saw myself years ago, is an understatement. But when life gives you lemons, you are supposed to do something with them, so I started a blog, the lemonade of the webernet.

I have been given the gift of free time at my new job, that I am very grateful for, and I am choosing to use that time by informing the masses of my sad life and what, exactly, I am going to do with that life.

I have found myself with a lot of things to say recently and no outlet in which to say them so here we are. The language of misspent adulthood: blogging. These things that I have to say are in no way life altering, important or meaningful. Basically it’s just shit I have to say. The glory of the internet is that you don’t have to read these things, but I feel it is my duty as a human to let you know where you can find this garbage:

Things I won’t be saying: The details of my divorce are in no way scandalous or even remotely intriguing but that doesn’t mean I am going to go into them. David and I remain friends and I still believe he is a wonderful, kind person and I wish him the best in life that he deserves.

Things I will be saying: I don’t know! I can’t predict the future…or can I???

I also feel I need to add that I know a lot of people find me offensive and I regret to inform you that it is probably just going to get worse. So if you are offended by anything that I have said in the past, I…don’t care, but consider yourself warned. I have done my duty to touchy assholes with no sense of humor. You’re welcome.

So, yeah. Hope to see you bitches later…