Intervening. On myself.

Writing a blog is hard, you guys. I mean not hard like “I perform brain surgery,” or “I build houses for the homeless,” or “I’m a porn star.” But hard as in, I have no clue of what I am doing or where I am going with this or whatever. I try and post every day and it is hard to think of things every day that someone out there may want to read. It get’s mad stressful, yo.

So I welcome all new ideas that come my way, especially if they are from the sweet nectar of my bodacious mind grapes:

I have been having my best ideas in the shower lately. I don’t know why. So since I just showered I got another idea. Kind of like this one. Well, tied to this one. (You see, this is where I send you to another post that I have created that I reference but don’t tell you the reference so you have go click on the older post to see what I am even talking about and it ups my pageview count. I am a blogging genius.) 

This idea came to me in the shower for obvious reasons.

It has occurred to me that I drink too much. Meaning: too often. I don’t think I drink too much but I judge myself against Intervention which is probably not the brightest idea to gauge your behavior against the worst case scenario of a horrible disease, but I do and I think I am fine. But I still drink too much. Somewhere my mom is nodding in agreement. Hi, Mom! I know, I know…

So I am quitting drinking. For the following reasons.

1. Money: As I have said before, I have no money. And alcohol costs a lot of money. I can’t really    afford that luxury right now.

2. Calories: Guys, I have a confession to make. I love sugar. I love it so much that I have dreams that I am eating it. And I wake up and I want sugar. Will I eat a cupcake for breakfast? In a heartbeat.            

I have been doing better in the calories dept. I don’t eat as much and I am eating better but the occasional cupcake crops up daily (Thanks, sis!) and I have no willpower against sugar. I am for sure addicted to sugar.

And what is alcohol but sugar? So I can either give up sugar (I lasted a day), or I can give up alcohol. I think that if you have a craving for anything whether it is bad for you or not, you should just go with it. And I know if I give up sugar I will be eating all kinds of shit to fill that void and that is not so cool. I have been drinking AND eating cupcakes and I am like “I can’t have both.”



Would.



3. What is art? Are we art? Is art art?: Have you ever thought to yourself “What am I like when I don’t drink?” Yeah. Me too. I have often wondered if I am even fun to be around when I am sober. I mean, I know that I am and I am around most people when I am sober but when I go out and such, what kind of sober person am I? No clue. Haven’t seen that girl in a while. Maybe I suck? I really don’t know. So let’s find out who that bitch is. Shall we?

I also look at Daniel, who doesn’t drink and he is usually awesome to be around. So am I as cool as Daniel (you feel bad about bailing on reviews now don’t you?). I need to know the answer to that question. (It’s probably a maybe.) 

4. Not foreva-eva: I will drink again on my 30^th birthday (party) that is in 112 days. It sounds like a lot, but I bet it’s not that long. What I will do from there, who knows?

I may or may not write about this. Again, as I have said before, I try not to be a health blog. I have nothing against health blogs, I currently read about seven of them on a daily basis (I realize that is only three links). I just know that I couldn’t do a health blog all that well. So I leave it to other people.

A friend of mine that I have known for years and years (one time, in 7th grade art class, Holly saw a picture of my sister and she asked me, “Are ya’ll blood related?” And from then on, we have been pretty good friends. She does a health blog and she is very good at it. She is also a new mom and if you love looking at pictures of cute babies, go here. She does the health thing much better than I could because she researches and such. I don’t as we all know.

So anyhoo, yeah. This is starting tonight. Day 1 of 112. You can cheer me on or tell me to fuck off or whatever you would like to do. Knock yourself out. But from here on out, no drinking. At all. No more alcohol...

Easy peasy...right? Tune into find out! See what I did there?

Asshole Monday: Meat Eaters

Don’t like it when I use obscene amounts of profanity? You may want to skip today. You’ve been warned.

I am not in the best of moods today as it’s Monday, it’s raining and I have a headache the size of…something really big. I don’t know. But me being in a slightly pissy mood can only help out this long standing blog tradition of Asshole Monday.

Look. I don’t give a fucking fuck about people that eat meat. You can eat meat all day long and up a dog’s ass for all I care. Knock yourself out. What you do with yourself is your business. I don’t judge people for eating meat and I don’t look down on people for eating meat. I am not one of those vegetarians. The angry kind that hates everyone. That is not me. Free to eat you and me, I say. And I don’t give anyone grief about eating meat, ever. But oh the colossal amounts of shit I get for not eating meat.

I find myself slowly becoming more militant about my vegetarianism. You know why? Because of meat eaters.

There has got to be something in the blood of a cow or in the veins of a chicken that makes some (not all, don’t leave me your meat-eating comment fuckery anywhere about how you are different) meat-eaters the dumbest, most condescending fuckholes on the planet.

I am pretty sure it has a lot to do with being in the south. I would have to say that vegetarians are few and far between down here, and that is all well and good. But those of us that are down here are sick of your shit. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on that you would more than likely eat if it came down to it.

I don’t know why meat eaters find the subject of vegetarianism so laughable but it’s like the joke is brand new to them every day. “Let’s offer the vegetarian some meat, that will be funny.” No, no it is not. It’s asinine and stupid and it makes you look like a dickhead of the utmost degree. Here is an example:

Of the few people that I work with that I see every day and talk to every day, there is one, only one, that gives me constant, daily shit about meat. Everyone else, super understanding and supportive. Couldn’t ask for better. But this one dude…

Today, he asked if KFC still had the Double Down. Yes, the super gross sandwich that forgoes the bun, because bread is bad for you, and replaces the bun with chicken breasts. Basically, This is Why You’re Fat. And I knew what was coming:

“Stacey, you want me to pick you up one? Heh heh.”

“No thanks, I am good on that.”

“We can split it and that way it won’t be that much chicken.”

“Any amount of chicken is too much chicken. We have been through this one thousand times. Chicken is still meat.”

”Heh, but I won’t tell anybody!”

It’s almost like they think that if no one knows about it, I would still eat meat. Like I sit alone in a dark room and suck the meat off chicken wings and then I wash them down with my protein-deprived tears. It’s ridiculous and condescending.

If I was Jewish would you poke fun at me for not eating non-kosher foods? I am going to say no. If I was allergic to a certain kind of animal flesh, would you jokingly offer to buy it for me for lunch? No, you wouldn’t. If I was Indian and didn’t believe in the eating of animals, would you still say “Oh, it’s just a little chicken, it won’t hurt anyone.” Pretty sure no.

And you know why you wouldn’t do any of these things? Because it makes you a shitty asshole. That’s why.

My reasons for not eating meat are respectable and warranted. I know what I am talking about when I explain myself and it is a life that I have chosen for myself. So take your KFC double-down and go double down on these nuts, because I have had more than enough of this bullshit.

And let me say this on behalf of every vegetarian/ vegan on this here planet we live on: It’s not us, it’s YOU. You are the reason we go on the defensive whenever the subject of food is brought up. You are the reason you roll your own eyes when I say I don’t eat meat. You are the reason that vegetarians get such a bad rap. YOU. Not me.You.

D.P.'s CBRIII Review #8 - 'Revolting Youth: The Further Journals of Nick Twisp' by C.D. Payne

I didn't want to write a review. I'm tired of it.

Stacey made me.

This book is really good. The end.

staceygarrett's CBR3 Review #7: We Need to Talk about Kevin by Lionel Shriver

I am a firm believer that you have to be in certain moods to read certain books. Maybe when I first picked up this book, months and months ago, I was far too stuck in my own bullshit pity to give a fuck about reading someone else’s? I don’t know. I was filled with hate and the teeniest bit of rage for this book and everything it encompassed and when I put it down after reading 70 or so pages, I didn’t know if I would ever pick it back up again.

I have a hard time letting go of books, even if they disappoint me or, as the case was with this one, anger me. I was determined to give it another shot and I am glad I did. I picked it back up a week ago and I haven’t been able to put it down since.

Eva doesn’t give a fuck anymore. She is done shutting-up about what everyone has always told her that she had to shut up about. She kept it to herself for years, a lot of years, and she is done with that. Fuck that noise, she said.

The book is written in a series of letters, very long letters, to Eva’s ex-husband Franklin about their son, convicted school-shooter, Kevin. The letters take place two years after the shooting, and they detail everything about Kevin’s life from the decision to have him to visiting him in his new home, a correctional facility.

The letters include everything she has ever wanted to say but felt like she couldn’t for looking like a bad person and a terrible mother, but she says now because everyone thinks she’s a terrible mother anyway. Eva pours out every thought she has ever had about her son who was less than stellar himself, but she could never express these thoughts because it’s her kid and she’s his mother! 

At first my hatred for this book was vast. I thought Eva was shallow and reprehensible. I thought she was an uncaring C U the day after Monday. I couldn’t stand Eva or her penchant to use larger words than the actions warranted (says the girl with a five-syllable blog title that, at times, gets tiresome for even her to spell). She’s pretentious and bitchy and cold and some of the worst parts of upperclass-hippie culture that I myself aspire to be. But she is also the mother of an unfeeling, abundantly apathetic brat and the ex-wife to a holier than thou prick who looks to be an ideal husband on paper.

Eva might have been a bad mother and an unsupportive wife and she may have wanted more for herself than to eventually become the mother of the most revolting breeds of children, but she is also something else that I can more than relate to…

She’s just done.

Keepers: Nerdy Girl Power Edition



This picture has no relevance, it's just very cute. via Cute Overload



Happy Friday, dudes. Your weekly linkage:

Wow, I don’t even know what to do with this, but I do know that I have to share this with you all. I don’t know whether to me amazed or call Chris Hansen.  

I like to make fun of children too! Everyone does. And not every child is a genius. They can’t all be like Garrett and Whitman.  

Oh Denny’s, you so crazy. Why do people love to fight at Denny’s? What is the draw there? I guess because it always gets put up on YouTube? 

Everyone laugh at Glenn Beck. He sucks.  

The blog I sent you all to last week posted a new one this week so I thought I would share. It’s a pretty good one. Breathtaking, actually. 

Ladies, I am going to need you to watch this. If you do one thing today, watch this. Do it for me. Do it for yourself. And do it for the children. The children! 

I don’t know anyone that still has a belly button ring, do I? I shouldn’t. Ladies, take those out. It’s time. 

The whoopee pie is quickly becoming my favorite dessert, even over cookies, so I want to give these a whirl, aka, Christy, make these. Kthanksbye. 

Yes I do want to go to this. Who is gonna go with me? 

I kind of want to learn how to quilt. No one should be surprised. How cute is this? 

Hey it is a news story that took place in Memphis that doesn’t make you want to move or hide your head in shame! 

This is the year I don’t go back to smoking. I have never been what one would call a serious smoker, I was kidding about it, mostly. I would quit for a while and start back and quit for years and start  back and when something would go poorly, like losing a job/ home/ marriage/ self-respect I would start again. This is the year I do not smoke one cigarette. I am done forever and ever. It has not been hard to quit and I do not miss it, but I am fortunate unlike some people.

Have a wonderful weekend, everyone. Peace to the out!

Laundry Day: *expletive deleted* another girl!

I am just going to begin at the beginning. This is also kind of tough to piece things together in a cohesive manner when remembering things randomly so I am going to try and do snippets here and there on one subject that I can remember at a time.

That's a sweet-ass blouse you got on there, mom

My dad was the forerunner of the trucker hat phenomenon

Oh rusty 70's swingset, you so crazy

There is obviously a lot about early childhood that most kids don’t remember because…well, they’re small children at the time. Quite a few things are hazy so that is why I called up my mom to ask her a few questions and I’ll be damned if her memory isn’t as bad as mine.  

I am the youngest of two girls. My sister, Christy, is four years older than I am. Dad always wanted a boy, which most men do (right?) so when my mom got pregnant the second time he had his hopes up that this one was a boy. When the doctor found out that I wasn’t a boy, he wouldn’t tell dad that he was getting yet another daughter.

So mom goes into labor, dad is still hoping that it is a boy and BAM. I come out and I am a girl. If I am remembering the story correctly, dad’s first words after I was born were, “Shit, it’s another girl!” Thanks dad!

My sister and I still say that if Dad had ever had a boy, he would have been eaten out of house and home. I think everything worked out well, personally. And now dad has two grandsons that he can live out all those cool things he wanted to do with a son when all he got were two (admittedly girly) girls. I don’t think he would trade us now, but back then I am not so sure.

Still bummed I don't still have that sweet Radio Flyer

The first house I ever lived in was in Frayser. We moved from there when I was five, so I remember very little but Christy has better memories as she lived there until she was nine, no one should be surprised that her memories of that house have to do with her being in trouble: 

“The Frayser house made a big circle so whenever you got into trouble you could run around that circle and dad would have to chase you. He would be mad at first chasing around his kid who just got in trouble but after a few laps he would start laughing and thats usually how I avoided punishment.”

I never got punished when I was a little because I was an excellent child. Seriously. Christy? Not so much. So basically anything I did would pale in comparison to whatever atrocity that she committed previously. Thanks for paving the way, sis! You broke mom and dad in real nice-like! I rode that gravy train until well after high school. They had seen it all before I got the chance to act a fool so by the time I did anything stupid or worthy of their shame and disappointment, they were pretty numb to it by that time. Ahhh, the joys of being the youngest…



Orange Shag Carpeting, represent



For the most part, I remember Christy being a pretty solid big sister (and she still is). We fought like most siblings do but she tried her damnedest to watch out for me. And we may be complete opposites now but we weren’t always. 

When we were little, both Christy and I loved to perform.  As I mentioned before, my dad played the drums in a hony-tonk band* every Saturday night. To psych himself up for his “gig” he would play the songs at high volume that he would be performing later that night. My sister and I took this time to dance our faces off.

We would start out in the hallway and as the music would begin we would run out into an imaginary sea of our adoring fans and then we would bust all kind of moves, whatever sort of moves can be busted with a toddler and a small child shaking it to Bob Seger. I think we just jumped a lot. And our big “trick” was to jump off the ottoman. That was our big finish.



Yes, that ottoman. I am also pretty sure that is one of my moves.



We also performed on the fireplace as though it were a stage

*I shot dad a text this morning to ask the name of the band. Not that it matters but someone out there might like to actually know what the band’s name was, I don’t know??? Here is how that text exchange when down:

“So what was the name of the band you played in?"

“Witch one?” (Yes, that is how he spelled it)

“I don’t know. Was there a main one?”

“I was in demand by many bands.” (Do you see where I get it now?)

Through a few more unnecessary texts, I finally got it out of him that the name of the band was, they didn’t have a name. He played for the house band at the Harvester Country Show in Frayser. If I can find pictures of this band, they will be scanned in and shown to you. I know I have seen pictures from it and the chicks wore a lot of bold colored metallic spandex. It’s a sight to see. Also a sight to see: My dad’s rockin’ comb-over and mutton chops.

Next week on Laundry Day: Imaginary Friends…my face is red now just thinking about it…

Why is this a real thing? Oh. That's why.

So this exists.

It’s a break-up notifier for Facebook. It may or may not be a real thing. I don’t know. I just know that it has a website that you can go to and it was featured on the tosh.o blog. Also, if it’s on the internet it HAS to be real, right? Right!

I also know that it is super creepy and way sad.

How it works is (if you are too cool to click a link, I will break it down for you) you choose fb friends that you have somewhat of an interest in that you can’t quite send an unwarranted fb message to just yet since they are in a relationship, and then when they change their relationship status to “Single” it notifies you so you can then commence with your poking or a nonchalant message about their latest hilarious status.  

Wow. I don’t even know what to say here, but has that ever stopped me before? Negative.

Facebook has already taken stalking to new, wonderful levels. Everyone Facebook stalks and anyone that tells you they don’t is the world’s biggest liar. That is what it is there for. If you don’t use Facebook for stalking, you’re doing it wrong. Facebook is the driving by people’s houses of 2011 because gas is expensive.

Also, a drive-by doesn’t really tell you a whole lot. There could be a strange car in the drive but what does that mean, really? It could be anyone and unless they have a license place holder that has their name, address and social security number on it, what does that even tell you? Nothing. A fb check-in? That tells you EVERYTHING!

So to everyone that is about to download the shit out of this notifier (if you download it, not sure how it works, I don’t so much care) I have a few words for you:

Don’t.  

I guess I didn’t have that many words after all. This kid knows what I’m talking about.  

Update: I had a feeling this thing didn't work and lo and behold, it doesn't. I have to say that I am a bit relieved.

Asshole Monday: Inconsiderate Assholes

Damn right, she is. And so am I.

Whenever I venture into the outside world, I am usually confronted with assholes of all sorts. They usually don’t warrant an entire post to themselves like some people but I feel they deserve a mention so I am just going to group them all together in an asshole category of the worst kind:

Inconsiderate Assholes.

Do you ever sit and wonder why you suck at life? It is probably because you’re an inconsiderate asshole. Really, just be considerate of other people, whether they are strangers or not. Just consider OTHER PEOPLE in your every day actions of indifferent fuckery, for example:

Having a shopping cart is a privilege. There are some third-world countries where you can only buy what you can carry out in your arms! (I just made that up, it may or may not be true) So when I see people just not giving a fuck where they put their cart after they have wheeled their groceries to their car, it makes me sad furious. Are you really that big of a lazy piece of shit that you can’t walk your privileged ass on your working legs a few feet and put your cart back? You do realize that someone has to come behind you and deal with what you deemed yourself too important to fuck with? YOUR cart that YOU pushed around is now someone else’s problem. Bravo dickface.

If I owned a gun (I should never and will never) I would probably only use it to shoot people that park in handicapped parking spaces that aren’t handicapped (and have no one handicapped with them) in the leg so they would then have a reason to park there. You’d be handicapped with a shattered knee-cap right? I don’t think there is a more despicable human being on the planet than someone that parks in a handicapped spot and then walks on their two legs away from their car all able-bodied and shit. Shot and killed they should be.

I understand that parents want to teach their children things, I really do. And I also applaud a parent that takes the initiative and teaches their children whenever possible. Bravo. However, you should NOT take the time while you are at the self-checkout register on a busy Sunday afternoon at Kroger. There are other people sighing loudly behind you that don’t really care if your child learns anything ever. They need to get home with/ to their own children so they can read to them, or watch PBS with them, or teach them how to make meth, or whatever. So while I think you are kind of awesome for being patient with your child and teaching them everyday math, I also think you kind of suck for it as well so if you would please get on out of my way so I can check out with my Sprite to take home to a sick 4-year-old. Thank you.

For the love of Pete, hold the door for a person that is less than two feet behind you. It is not that hard.

Say “Thank-you” when someone does something nice for you when they don’t have to. Like holding the door open, letting you over in traffic, picking up something you dropped, etc. All you have to do is express a thank you whether it is verbal or in a hand gesture. That’s all. So simple and so rewarding for everyone. Someone took a few seconds to help someone they don’t know, can you not express that same courtesy for that action?

I have at least 253 more of these but these are just the ones I encountered on my one trip to the Collierville Kroger yesterday, the best and largest Kroger I have ever seen with my two eyes. I had to share them while the hatred for humanity was still fresh.

I realize that me asking people to take two seconds out of their super busy day for someone they don’t know is a little ridiculous, but my point is: You don’t have to be an asshole. There are simple ways to make you a better person and not such an asshole. No wonder everyone hates you.

Keepers: I'm kinda sorta famous edition

Yes, Fridays ARE awesome

And here we are again, Friday. This week went by quickly, no? Anyhoo, here is your best in linkage (to me at least) for this week:

Here is one of my favorite blogs. She doesn’t post that often but if you have a few hours to kill and you want to laugh a lot while sitting at your desk, go read her archives. She is adorable and so funny! 

Hey that’s me! Pajiba posted my book review yesterday. I was monumentally excited, more so than I ever should have been. 

See? People LOVED Veronica Mars. Not just me. It was a great show and I miss it dearly… 

I like for my world leaders to have foul mouth, I just do. It humanizes them and makes me feel better about my verbal vulgarity. This is also where I got the term “maternal copulator.” 

So your girlfriend/ boyfriend likes Dexter that much? Maybe next year Valentine's Day next year? 

I feel as though I should probably learn how to do this. 

I need these, that is all there is to it.  Seriously, how cute?!

I know you all hate it when I talk all crafty, but it’s made of jelly beans. JELLY BEANS!  

Everyone have a fabulous weekend, toodles my lovelies!

Laundry Day: I do it for the fans...



Stacey. What up?!

People tell me that I should be a writer. Okay. That is all well and good, but come on. I am not the best writer. We all know this. There is no way I will be famous or well known or even regarded for writing, but it is something I enjoy and I want to be better at it and that is what I try and do with this blog. I am not winning any awards here but I entertain myself and a few other people and that is more than enough for me.

In every creative writing class I have been in, they teach you to write what you know. It’s the best story-telling practice and you find that you can stem something else from it. I write a lot about myself here already but that’s more of the day to day. But what do you really know about me besides; boobs, candy, Halloween, hatred of cereal milk, detests Jersey Shore and I read a good amount of books? Not a whole lot.

Like did you know that my dad played drums in a honky-tonk band for years? Or that I catered weddings when I was 10-years-old? Or that my sister ran over my foot with her bike on purpose? Or that I once did a mock radio show that was all captured on tape when I was 12? I bet you didn’t…which brings me to a new column titled...

Laundry Day* - tah dahhhh!              

It is going to be exactly what you think it’s going to be. Airing my laundry and not just dirty laundry but the clean stuff that’s been moth balled and put away for a while. I am putting it all out there for the world to see. I get asked a lot where did I come from meaning; “How did you come from this family???” Maybe we will find out, who knows? There is a world of possibilities with this.    

I will try and post every Thursday but these may take some time and a lot of thinking and a lot of picture scanning (damn you time period before digital cameras!) so it may take longer than a week to come up with them which is why Laundry Day is so appropriate…

I do laundry, seriously, once every three weeks, maybe.  It’s only me and I don’t have an entire loads worth of laundry for a while. It’s less than that in the winter when clothes take up more space and it is a lot longer than that in summer. I can go at least a month in summer. So this column may or may not appear every week. A week may be skipped here and there but they will come around often.

A few words of warning: Some of you WILL appear in these. I won’t speak ill of you, I won’t divulge anything incriminating and I won’t use anyone’s last names. I would also be glad to change your name completely if you’d like. Also if any you of plan on being president, I need to know now so I can prepare to be supa famous when this blog is uncovered in 30 years.

Laundry Day will include childhood crushes (real and celebrity, and with the exception of the ones I would rather not own up to, they probably know who they are and I would rather not relive that shit), middle school, high school, stupid high school bullshit that I was involved in for some reason though I think I kept drama free for the most part, but not all together. College (Crazy Dorm Night, WHAT?!). My time living in the dorms. All kinds of shit. Every story I have (most of them, some of them should never be told) I will share. If I think you may care if this shit gets out about you, I will let you know beforehand. But I promise, to those of my friends and family out there I won’t air your laundry out, I swear. It’s just about me. And to my family, I promise not to shame you all too badly.  

As for those people that I don’t really care about either way, I can’t say you won’t be shown in a somewhat unflattering light. There is a reason I don’t like you... I’m just saying, and that may or may not come out, but names will be changed to protect the innocent (me).

           

Now I want no one to forget that all the old emails and stuff I used to send out back in the day...I kept them. All. So you may be seeing repeats of those as well of our stories. They should be nothing short of hilarious (Before there were blogs, I wrote emails to my friends. Long emails. And they started in 2000...when I was 19. It should be good stuff, my 19^th birthday, anyone? Anyone?). Prepare yourselves.         



Skeptical Daniel is skeptical

And now for the really exciting part: Daniel is going to join me! Hurrah! Lots of you don’t know who Daniel is. We used to work together (yes, I will be hashing out work stories, i.e. Ellie Mae, my time in the warehouse, etc.) and we have remained friends. He is really cool and he is also a writerish type person like me so I shot him the idea, he liked it and agreed to do it with me. So you get to find out everything about me and Daniel. How excited are you right now? I know, I know. I am too.                        



Why am I choking Daniel? Will the world ever know?

So now every Thursday (sort of) you have Laundry Day to look forward to. You will get to know everything there is to know about the two most talented writers on this blog (read: The only two writers on this blog). And Daniel and I will get much needed writing practice for our eventual live of fame and fortune. Everyone is welcome. Seriously, you are all so welcome. Stop thanking me, you’re embarrassing me.



Daniel isn't really a ninja...or is he? Tune in to find out!

*Daniel came up with the title, I take no credit.

D.P.'s CBRIII Review #7 - 'Zombie Spaceship Wasteland' by Patton Oswalt

Patton Oswalt is one of the funniest comedians working today. He's in that elite respected group that is only occupied by people like Louis C.K. and Dave Attell (David Cross used to be there, but he sold his soul for Chipmunks movies and his "comedy" stopped being funny about 2 albums ago).

So one might assume that a book by Patton Oswalt would be hilarious. And at times, it's pretty funny, but honestly? It's more heartfelt than anything. I expected a throwaway comedian's book of jokes. Instead I got a book written by an extremely talented writer that has a way with words that most "real" authors (as opposed to comedians) should envy.

There are chapters in the book that are meant to be just funny, but honestly, those didn't do it for me. Zombie Spaceship Wasteland is at it's best when Patton is waxing autobiographical. The early career story of working in Canada for a shady promoter or working at a movie theater, stealing ninja stars from his supervisor...these are the kinds of stories that carry the book and they don't aim for the funny bone. They aim for the heart (goddamn, I should write professional reviews. That was an AWESOME line right there. Holy shit, go back and read that. I mean, really, just fuck!).

The book is short. I knocked it out in 2 days and loved it. Highly recommended, and when you're done reading the book, if you're unfamiliar, go grab/download/YouTube some of Patton's stand-up. The man is a comedic genius.

Seriously though..."they don't aim for the funny bone. They aim for the heart." Sweet fuck baby Jesus....

staceygarrett's CBRIII Review #6: HELP! A Bear is Eating ME! By Mykle Hansen

You know that guy that goes on and on about his car and all the cool things it can do and it has this many horses and heated seats and it goes this fast in this amount of time and it crushes smaller cars in its wake, but when something actually goes wrong with it, he has no clue of what to do with it? Like changing a tire and securing the jack???

Marv Puskin’s “Rover” has a flat tire and when he goes to change it, the jack slips and the car falls on top of him, pinning him under the “left rear independent axle” (whatever that is). Since Marv is now trapped under his Range Rover in the breathtaking nature of Alaska (which he constantly shits on, literally and figuratively) he has no way of escaping from the bear that approaches, gets cozy, and starts chewing on Marv’s foot.  

Marv took his team into the Alaskan wilderness for a “team building” exercise which involved killing bears so it’s only natural that the very black bear they set out to kill is now eating the team’s largest bear-killing supporter.

Marv is trapped under car with a smart phone so, naturally, he Googles “How to Survive a Bear Attack.” From then on, Marv blames everyone but himself for his situation; his fat wife who he loathes, his side-piece he brought along to bone when his wife falls of a cliff, his ad-exec “team” members, Google, Range Rover, the bear, Alaska, nature, etc.                       

In times like these, I will always root for the bear. In choosing between a human death and an animal death in movies and books, especially when the human is a dickhead, I will choose human.  The bear was being a bear, Marv was being an asshole. He even shortens words and anyone who shortens words on the reg should totes die of bear consumption.

This book was a super quick read, I finished it in a few hours. It also had me rolling, or in internet-speak, ROTFLMAO. It was funny and awesome and just an all around good time. I needed a break from reading about school shootings and drinking problems and cutting and being held captive. Sometimes you just need to read about an asshole getting what is coming to him and cackle at his well-deserved demise.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

Hooking: My Favorite Pasttime

When people find out that I am an avid, if not obsessive, crocheter I usually get the same questions and comments; When/ how/ why did I learn, how hard is it to learn, etc. So I decided to go ahead and put it in a blog so everyone out there that wants to know, can now know. So to all of my male readers (all four of you, HI GUYS!) and the people that could care less, you can go ahead and skip reading today. For those of you that may be interested in just how/ why I crochet and if you might be interested in learning yourself, play on players…

Let’s get one thing straight; I don’t knit. I have tried to teach myself how to knit half a dozen times and I can’t figure it out and, as it turns out, cursing is ineffective in learning needlecrafts. I crochet. There is a large difference.  I do not expect anyone to know the difference, but here are a few:

1. Crocheting uses a hook. Knitting uses two needles.
2. Crocheting is easier. The hook allows you to pull yarn through a series of loops, with knitting you have to push the yarn through with a needle.
3. Knitters think they are cooler than crocheters, they actually might be.

Once you start crocheting or knitting, you can easily tell which is which. Most things you see in stores are knitted and crocheting uses more yarn so it tends to be bulkier but it can also be more detailed.

I love crocheting. It is easily one of my favorite things to do. And now that the weather is cold and I am done with Christmas orders, I am going crochet project crazy. It’s crochet time, bitches!

I learned from books, many many books. If you are looking for a good book to learn from, Stitch N Bitch: The Happy Hooker. I wish I had this book when I first started. It wasn’t around then but if it had been it would have prevented a lot of heartache and a lot of maniacal tirades. This is the book I use for reference when I have any questions. It’s comprehensive and the instructions are easy to understand.  I had no clue of how to work with charts or granny squares until I got this book a little over a year ago.

There are also scads of video tutorials and online books out there on the interwebs to teach you how. They may not give you the amount of detail that you can find in a book but it will teach you the basics. YouTube has oodles of crocheting and knitting videos.

Anyway, if want to be as cool as I am and learn to crochet, here are some pointers for you assholes:

Yarn: There are eleventy billion types of yarn out there made out of everything imaginable and some of it is very, very expensive.  I have seen one 100 yd skein (this is not a lot at all) of yarn for $63.00, for one skein that probably won’t make you a scarf and people pay it. I, do not.

There are yarn boutiques out there (Yarniverse on Mendenhall and Hank of Yarn in Southaven, there are probably more but these are the only two I have been to) that have some crazy cool yarn that is insane expensive but they also carry the hard to find stuff that is somewhat reasonably priced. You are probably asking yourself, “How cool can yarn be?” The answer is: Very. They have yarn that is made out of recycled Indian Saris. It’s beautiful and pricey.  The $63.00 skein of yarn that I mentioned early is amazing. It’s made on a hippie commune in the Ozarks and it looks like colorful dreadlocks.

The best place to go for cheap yarn is Hobby Lobby. Their store brand, I Love This Yarn, is stellar. They have a large variety of colors, the skeins are huge and for a cheap, synthetic yarn it’s surprisingly soft. I make all of my afghans with this yarn.

Buying yarn is addictive and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.



Med. Worsted Weight Yarn

 

Beginners Tip: Do NOT start crocheting with a frilly yarn. I know it is tempting to think the first thing you make is going to be from this beautiful, exotic yarn but it’s just going to piss you off.  When you make a mistake, and you will, and you pull out the stitches you just did (it’s call “frogging” fyi) the fibers tangle together making it impossible to pull apart. You will end up having to cut the yarn and start over, wasting your yarn and your time. So, no mohair or wool or homespun or anything like that. Use a basic, medium worsted weight yarn, which is the majority of yarn that you see.

If you buy yarn in a hank, have it wound. Most places that sell yarn in hanks will wind them for you.  If you don’t, it will eventually tangle and it will take hours, if not days to get the fucker untangled.

A hank of yarn

Never, ever, throw out your scraps. You will always have yarn leftover from a project, whether it’s a few yards or an entire skein, save it. You will use it eventually. I usually wind it into a ball and keep it in a basket. When I accumulate a lot of scraps, I make scrap blankets or scarves. 

Crochet Hooks - Durrr

Hooks: There are different sized hooks out there for different sized yarns. The teeny tiny ones you see are used for crocheting lace and doilies and things such as that. The smaller the hook and the thinner the yarn, the longer a project is going to take. I don’t fuck around with tiny hooks or super thin yarn. I don’t have the patience or the eyesight for that.

If you have the yarn you are going to use and you aren’t sure which size hook it needs, check the label on the yarn. There will be a picture of a crochet hook with the size listed that best fits that yarn will be listed underneath.

Patterns: No, the things I make don’t come straight from my mind grapes, but thank you for having that much faith in my creativity. For most things, I have a pattern to refer to. Once I get the hang of it, however, I try and manipulate the patterns I use into something else. Like the flowers I use for hats, actually come from a pillow pattern. You just have to learn to pick and choose what you like and make it your own.

Lots of patterns are a pain in the ass to read.  For this reason, I will no longer buy pattern books, sight unseen. And there really is no reason to buy pattern books. There are thousands of patterns online for free and most of them are written by every day crocheters so you get a wide variety of styles.

Beginners Tip:  Don’t even attempt a pattern until you have made something resembling nothing first. Start with scarves. They are easy and they teach you the basic back and forth of crochet. If you can go back and forth with a stitch, you are halfway there. Also, when making scarves, I always go the length instead of the width. It’s cleaner and there is no need for a border.

Also, read the entire pattern before you start. It sounds like an annoying ridiculous waste of time, but trust me.

Gauge: You will see this everywhere and all it is how much/ little you pull on your yarn. If you start a blanket or something and your gauge changes, it will end up resembling a malformed triangle.

I hoped this helps anyone out there that wanted to know more about the art of crocheting. if you would like to know more feel free to email a bitch. To everyone else, I told your stupid asses to stop reading. What are you still doing here?

Asshole Monday: Do I even need to say it???

Come on, now. It’s February 14^th. You know what’s coming…

It’s Valentine’s Day! DUH!

Now I can’t say that I hate Valentine’s Day. I don’t. Hating it would mean that I have some form of strong feelings for it and just I don’t. I can take it or leave it.

Am I bummed about Valentine’s Day this year, my first being single in years? Not at all. It is seriously just another day and a Monday at that. But that doesn’t mean that the holiday isn’t the slightest bit on the asshole side. It for sure is.

The one part of Valentine’s Day that I LOVE is the candy and the red and pink colors and hearts on cupcake wrappers, etc. SHOCKER that my favorite things on this day are food. But yes, I do love that aspect of this day. I love giving out stupid valentines and candy and heart-shaped whatever to family, friends, etc. Everyone should know by now that if something is juvenile, I will like it. A heart-shaped box of NERDS? All day long. 30 Hello Kitty valentines that come in a box for $1.99? Absolutely. Chocolates of any kind (especially if they are the crème-filled kind that everyone but me hates)? Bring it on. Serious declarations of love only on a day that is just another day? Not so much…

I am a firm supporter in surprises and gifts for the hell of it. If you love me and you want to keep me around the other 364 days a year, don’t save that shit for Valentine’s Day. Just…don’t (Let me say here that I have never been with anyone that has solely saved it for Valentine’s Day, but I know that I am fortunate in this). Where are the flowers on a random April 12^th? Where is the box of candy on September 22^nd? Where is the heartfelt cheesy card on March 3^rd?

In my old age I now find flowers kind of ridiculous. They are super expensive and a little wasteful. Pretty? Yes. Practical? No. And I won’t lie and say that there wouldn’t be a little smile on my face if I received flowers today (I won’t), but they aren’t necessary. And flowers are easy. Like, the easiest gift ever. Easier than jewelry from Kay Jewelers. Where is the originality? Where is the “Hey, I know you pretty well. Here is something that I know you love.” I will give you an example:

My friend and former college roommate, Tracy (yes, Tracy and Stacey) received flowers and gossip magazines from her husband for Valentine’s Day. It was an adorable declaration that he loves her and he also knows what SHE loves; gossip magazines.  Something as simple as that speaks volumes.

Yes, you love me but do you even know me? Be original and heartfelt. But not just today, all the time.

SEE?! This is what I am talking about.

Speaking of unoriginal, where are all the annoying Valentine’s Day jewelry commercials? Did they waste all the really bad ones on Christmas? I know I have seen a few but not as many as around Christmas and I’m thankful for that. Just say no to bad, cheesy jewelry for every occasion but especially on Valentine’s Day. Especially if it’s heart-shaped…eww (I am looking at YOU Jane Seymour).

And please, for the love of Pete, proposing on VD (VD, heh) is something that needs to stop and needs to stop immediately. I can’t think of anything cheesier or more cliché. If someone proposes to you on Valentine’s Day, say no. I said you could. Tell him (or her) to ask again tomorrow. Also, if he puts the ring in food, just say no and tell him to ask again never. I just saved you from marrying the most unoriginal asshole in the world. I saved you from a lifetime of Kay Jewelers. You’re welcome.

What would I want for Valentine’s Day if I had someone? Shoes. Always buy me shoes. I will love shoes all the time. Of the (very few) serious boyfriends I have had, they have all bought me shoes and I was ecstatic about it. Size 6 ½. Get on that. All of the readers of my blog each pitch in $1.00 and I might be able to buy a pair or two of Old Navy Flip Flops (which I love). My love language is shoes. I am fine with it. Oh, and candy. Never forget candy.

So to all my single and taken assholes, Happy Valentine’s Day. I hope it was un-monumental as all Valentine’s Days should be. I hope you all got gossip magazines, or shoes, or a pocket knife, or a LOST action figure. I hope that the person that gave it to you, be it your child, mom, husband, girlfriend, actually knows you well enough to know what would make this insignificant day for you.

And from the bottom my heart, my dear readers, I love you all and I do every day, not just today! Thank you for reading! These are for you: