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…

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.

I'm a Mother Fucking Icon!



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):

(502):

Im sitting alone watching titanic. Drunk. Without pants. Holding a fishing pole. Im pretty sure im okay with all of this.

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)

Why?

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: http://www.tdot.state.tn.us/environment/beautification/litter.asp

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.

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?

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!