tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32842131308338381622023-11-16T06:31:25.250-06:00Hot Child in the SuburbsAthenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.comBlogger80125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-55474631851539486472008-12-16T09:06:00.006-06:002008-12-16T16:29:25.869-06:00Spankings and apologiesSomeone sent me an email the other day and was like, "Where the fuck are you? You havent been held hostage by anyone, have you? Attacked by crazed soccer moms? Dolphin mauling? WTF! Post something!" and I know, I know, I have been like the laziest, slackeriest, crappy no-commenting bloggy person <span style="font-style: italic;">ever.</span> I'm sorry. I've had 3 out of town visitors in the past month, coupled with a sick kid and the FREAKIN' HOLIDAYS breathing down my neck. But you dont want to hear excuses, so please accept this hug:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNT-iR4N2U6VYD1jDXetarINtv-aFYICLofCMMuXj2EmXHhGw8AAb-fYCsDc3psPlBg0t9JWUvWyoTWg1uK4nGtVS6xZYWIE9rizhld4w7uCyNABkpFVsgBAgR-nuyROMGPvEbI9mMoinc/s1600-h/21hug.650.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 296px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNT-iR4N2U6VYD1jDXetarINtv-aFYICLofCMMuXj2EmXHhGw8AAb-fYCsDc3psPlBg0t9JWUvWyoTWg1uK4nGtVS6xZYWIE9rizhld4w7uCyNABkpFVsgBAgR-nuyROMGPvEbI9mMoinc/s400/21hug.650.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280406434348709186" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">See how excited I am to hug you?</span> <span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />(Sorry, you have to be Bush.</span></span>)<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Kiss:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLjaMTI9ZV1uD3wrN-HH6hJZWHkPfNn9kSzSOwB2kYg5bKYDOynOGwrQA-3X00YiYRT_Vdw2fv25Qz2pNwK6M2j6_4OzGu541KWUGS4OOlKPY9KMSCROQtaT9aOlYQlgaYG34c92Gs5K-v/s1600-h/prairie-dog-kiss.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 336px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLjaMTI9ZV1uD3wrN-HH6hJZWHkPfNn9kSzSOwB2kYg5bKYDOynOGwrQA-3X00YiYRT_Vdw2fv25Qz2pNwK6M2j6_4OzGu541KWUGS4OOlKPY9KMSCROQtaT9aOlYQlgaYG34c92Gs5K-v/s400/prairie-dog-kiss.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280407808106005378" border="0" /></a><br />and slap on the ass:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNRhSw203ngtXq1xKfzztzuYQWF8aAGvKwhuXr8vNsC6LmhgYd_dquiB394l2XdsxVgd8gopmrtvlPeBozaNYGOk5hRUYbtuGpjDIKC2U56nhHoJDjzyRYi60ftnzY_yFmlfv2u9USWbYw/s1600-h/AssSlap.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNRhSw203ngtXq1xKfzztzuYQWF8aAGvKwhuXr8vNsC6LmhgYd_dquiB394l2XdsxVgd8gopmrtvlPeBozaNYGOk5hRUYbtuGpjDIKC2U56nhHoJDjzyRYi60ftnzY_yFmlfv2u9USWbYw/s400/AssSlap.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280517724036091330" border="0" /></a>There, are we better now? You know I love you.<br /><br /><br /></div></div>Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com59tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-68241671890393462852008-12-04T14:02:00.004-06:002008-12-04T14:36:01.327-06:00Everyone needs a little holiday cheerRemember my inspiring post about <a href="http://hotchildinthesuburbs.blogspot.com/2008/08/who-said-crime-doesnt-pay.html">"questionable" side jobs</a>? Apparently I forgot "Appliance Shipper/Drug Smuggler", cause I found a whole bunch of weed in my oven this weekend.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHsY5picdu0vrlWHMb-zUypbQ8Hg3K-TIppSPzUTkJZjols6g0AzoPaf5NeIyal62Ui1gC6wGwcmIltD4vIBHMLIOHxAvB6pMJMFy5wT_v9AuOUgHw3yaMzMgXnFVNzR0dHnbAhpPRNrOg/s1600-h/oven.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHsY5picdu0vrlWHMb-zUypbQ8Hg3K-TIppSPzUTkJZjols6g0AzoPaf5NeIyal62Ui1gC6wGwcmIltD4vIBHMLIOHxAvB6pMJMFy5wT_v9AuOUgHw3yaMzMgXnFVNzR0dHnbAhpPRNrOg/s400/oven.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276031450057780034" border="0" /></a><br />Go figure I'll find it when I don't smoke anymore, right? Imagine me at 21 cleaning out my brand new oven and finding some free pot. I'd probably call the distributor and thank them! Then someone would probably get fired and I might get arrested...you can see one of the reasons I dont smoke anymore. So imagine me at 26 instead, cleaning out my brand new oven and finding a bunch of buds in there, calling the distributor and bitching them out like the cranky, crotchety, curmudgeonous (and alliterative!) person that I have apparently become. No...even though I wanted to, I didnt do that, either. I totally baked them into some Christmas cookies and gave them to the snobby neighbors across the street. HA! Merry Christmas, bitches!Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-75609264170113326042008-11-20T16:16:00.003-06:002008-11-20T16:36:31.361-06:00Love herMom: So have you heard that really <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lzzwt4XbxAI">catchy song</a> about McDonalds?<br />Me: Huh?<br />Mom: You know, dadadada-da-da-da-da, if you catch me at Mcdonalds I got visa's in my name....<br />Me: Mom. Thats not what she says.<br />Mom: What do you mean? She even talks about cheeseburgers after that.<br />Me: Are we even talking about the same song? Do they play a different version up there? <span style="font-style: italic;">[My mom lives in the pacific northwest]</span><br />Mom: No! She says, "If you come around here I make 'em all day, I'll get some done in a second if you wait". You see? She'll make you a cheeseburger!<br />Me: Mom, I think that song is about dealing drugs.<br />Mom: NO! No! Are you serious?<br />Me: <span style="font-style: italic;"></span>How do you even hear "cheeseburgers"? What she really says is, "If you catch me at the <span style="font-style: italic;">border</span> I got visas in my name". And when she says, "I'll get some done in a second if you wait" she's talking about packing some drugs for you. How did you not know this? Did you not hear the gunshots?<br />Mom: <span style="font-style: italic;"></span>I guess my virgin ears just substitute words for things I dont want to hear! And furthermore, missy, how do <span style="font-style: italic;">you</span> know all this druggy lingo? Hmm?<br />Me: Um, I watch<a href="http://www.aetv.com/intervention/"> intervention</a>?<br />Mom: Thats all you'd better be doing.<br />Me: Of course. So you still like the song?<br />Mom: I dont care what you say, I still think it's about McDonalds.Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-77552849107154656232008-11-19T12:30:00.003-06:002008-11-19T12:47:00.849-06:00Snuggled in a warm, floral embraceYa'll.<br /><br />Suburbia ROCKS.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.kohls.com/kohlsStore/homepage.jsp">Kohls</a>, <a href="http://www.michaels.com/art/online/home">Michaels</a>, <a href="http://www.gardenridge.com/">THE FREAKIN' RIDGE</a>, <a href="http://fazolis.com/">Fazoli's</a>, and the list goes on. MORE RETAIL FOR ME. SPEND SPEND SPEND. MUST BE BETTER THAN NEIGHBORS. I NEED AN <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n9F-mYXwk5U">AIRWICK</a> AIR FRESHENER NOWWWWWWWWWWW.<br /><br />Whoa, sorry guys. I've been here for like, 3 days and I think I've already been brainwashed, but it's cool. Did I mention Fazoli's? And Garden Ridge? I could spend hours in craft stores, then add a few bread sticks to the mix and I'm in salty, wrapping paper heaven. There is this one retail center behind my house and - I'm not joking - I could spend a whole day there.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">9am </span>- Put the kid in scary strip center daycare called Little Comforts and thank God she is resilient and has all her shots.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">10am</span> - Walk across the parking lot to Bally's, work out.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">12pm</span> - Hit up <a href="http://www.chipotle.com/">Chipotle</a> and undue all good work I did with massive burrito bigger than my head.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">1pm</span> - Walk 4 steps next door to <a href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/170/386724668_57797afa44.jpg">Starbucks</a> for post lunch coffee.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">1:30pm</span> - Mosey across the median to Target, need laundry detergent and toilet paper.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">3pm</span> - Leave Target with said items, plus picture frame, new shirt, goldfish bowl, 16 rolls of wrapping paper, batteries, new shade of nail polish, Lysol Wipes, 3 greeting cards, a new shower curtain, 3 CDs, 2 DVDs and some breath mints.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">3:30pm</span> - Cross 1/2 mile of parking lot to make a deposit at Wells Fargo after massive shopping spree.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">4:00pm</span> - Pick child up from daycare.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">4:30pm</span> - Navigate through 20 parking spaces to The Little Gym with child to find new friends for both of us.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">6pm</span> - Leave, exhausted and frazzled after an hour and a half of listening to screeching brats and conversating with other mothers who hate you for wearing jean cut offs and flip flops to the Little Gym.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">6:30pm</span> - Walk across the massive parking lot once more and find that you conveniently parked in front of a liquor store. Debate internally whether or not it is appropriate to bring a 4 year old inside, figure no one you know will see you anyway.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">6:45pm</span> - Leave liquor store clutching brown paper sack. Cringe with horror when you see Jacqueline, one of the Alpha Moms at the Little Gym, has parked three cars down and is scowling disapprovingly at you, your bag of vodka and beat up 1996 Saturn.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">6:50pm</span> - Arrive home. Cry.<br /><br />Oh well. At least I still have Garden Ridge.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCo8GzAqQ5rJmwfUxIrrSq24YZGOdMKxDIUVQmBubFUmi8aMdQNAG4ELwWfvJhBCt6uOLJfYHsM7lNwtgzz0_0J8rmr2o4j_dgQw_DQa9Cl2FimIuERPRzvQQ04WeuV231bbyXqNLFYgBl/s1600-h/Garden_Ridge_Vente.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCo8GzAqQ5rJmwfUxIrrSq24YZGOdMKxDIUVQmBubFUmi8aMdQNAG4ELwWfvJhBCt6uOLJfYHsM7lNwtgzz0_0J8rmr2o4j_dgQw_DQa9Cl2FimIuERPRzvQQ04WeuV231bbyXqNLFYgBl/s400/Garden_Ridge_Vente.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270436769962337234" border="0" /></a>Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-61396620480098706162008-11-17T14:18:00.007-06:002008-11-17T15:13:05.751-06:00Proud member of the itty bitty booty committeeSo here I am. Posting from our new place. And it hurts, ya'll. Not emotionally, I mean it literally fucking hurts - our chair is too short for the built in "office center" aka a desk with some shelves, and my wrists are elevated and resting on the hard wood molding of the desk. We need a new chair before I have the bruised wrists of an emo chick.<br /><br />So many things are different here. We moved from an older place, built in the 50's, with exposed brick and other charming little details, to new construction with beautiful accents like brushed nickle hardware and chair rails. The benefits of the new place far outweigh the old - we have a massive walk in closet, an extra bedroom, a bathtub that could double as a wading pool and a lovely kitchen big enough for all of us to fit in. The one thing though, that doesn't sit well with me, is the design of the toilet. Or the toilet seat, to be more exact.<br /><br />You guys, its huge. I cant even sit back fully or else I'll fall in. If I wasn't already insecure enough about my tiny butt, a stupid toilet seat has to come along and engulf my whole ass. I know <a href="http://charmaineyoest.com/uploads/my_butt_is_big.jpg">big butts are back</a> and I am envious mine isn't more bootylicious, but this is insane. I cant fill out jeans anymore, I am the only one who doesnt complain about airline seats being too small, and now a stupid toilet seat has made me begin to consider <a href="http://www.bossip.com/wp-content/uploads/kimk.jpg">butt implants</a>. What do you think?<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC24Jw-L0xUvAsORC-jATRwhxZW_Y2n5Xg5__QBAb-FYu4hSoeKwrTu3R5r5rN-1qlcaFweiZUnGdWkr6kN83YGG2aSGgVQXjT1VzUmV7PBFSBCpaC4lCpi7-v23qnucpLnMLKaW4lsjWf/s1600-h/bad_butt_implants.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 304px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC24Jw-L0xUvAsORC-jATRwhxZW_Y2n5Xg5__QBAb-FYu4hSoeKwrTu3R5r5rN-1qlcaFweiZUnGdWkr6kN83YGG2aSGgVQXjT1VzUmV7PBFSBCpaC4lCpi7-v23qnucpLnMLKaW4lsjWf/s400/bad_butt_implants.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269735819834342290" border="0" /></a><br />Uh, I think I'll just buy a new toilet seat.Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com51tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-42639094237669723592008-11-10T13:21:00.005-06:002008-11-10T14:35:22.405-06:00The joys of suburbiaSo, we finally did it. We scoured the 'burbs, we cased the neighborhoods, we checked <a href="http://www.rottenneighbor.com/">rottenneighbor.com</a>, and finally signed a lease. Signed our life away to suburban hell. Goodbye, skyline, hello outlet mall.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYQrKF89RIn7QTiBwlwM3_exEQTTyAvPgElxSO5EJ-UVdPigGos1VaJBmWGQd_cGiF6QfwAFFYQxBnkp6EPrkTXTRoj-lTmyLLn9KMfCs_46W-Xop9Eh7Yyu_6XGXWyx0JZieESLJwPlcR/s1600-h/outlet-mall.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYQrKF89RIn7QTiBwlwM3_exEQTTyAvPgElxSO5EJ-UVdPigGos1VaJBmWGQd_cGiF6QfwAFFYQxBnkp6EPrkTXTRoj-lTmyLLn9KMfCs_46W-Xop9Eh7Yyu_6XGXWyx0JZieESLJwPlcR/s400/outlet-mall.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267117414755339746" border="0" /></a><br />Half our house is in boxes, which makes living here for the next 6 days like a maddening scavenger hunt, and <a href="http://www.virtual-bubblewrap.com/popnow.shtml">bubblewrap</a> is fun to play with, so theres that. I know that moving to the suburbs have some benefits, though. I cant think of what they are, but I know it does. I just cant find the silver lining. This is how I envision our first year:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Month one</span>: Move into neighborhood, find amenities near by, restaurants, shopping, marvel how close we are to every retail chain ever built.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Month two</span>: Complain that everyone else is close to all that stuff, too.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Month three</span>: Meet neighbors, plan game night, introduce our kids, tentative excitement towards meeting new people begins to grow.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Month four</span>: Attempt to enroll daughter into good school. Good school will not accept application because of "over crowding" (aka we be poor folk) and place us on the never ending waiting list, settle for zoned public school.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Month five</span>: Shunned by neighbors after declining the invitation to neighbor's wife's tupperware party.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Month six</span>: Nearby lot gets bought for new hospital, commence construction till 2013.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Month seven</span>: Lanes on the main road get widened, commence construction till 2020.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Month eight</span>: Daughter gets shunned by children for not speaking French, Latin, Russian or Mandarin.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Month nine</span>: Car gets keyed with cryptic message, "Should've gone plastic!"<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Month ten</span>: Patio furniture mysteriously goes missing, lawn gets TP'd.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Month eleven</span>: Start to understand why everyone is on drugs, get a prescription for Xanax and instate nightly cocktail hour<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Month twelve</span>: Full on drug and alcohol addiction, admit self into rehab, find neighbor in as well, bond over horror stories of nearly burning down the house with lit cigarette while passed out from too many Cosmo's and re-pledge friendship.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Month thirteen</span>: Backstabbed by newly sober neighbor, start process all over again.<br /><br />You can see why I'm so excited. Suburbia or bust!Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-18638782624402514252008-11-04T14:20:00.001-06:002008-11-04T14:22:15.513-06:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1tMEMzTKtSmRUw2qpsUfWamoRCz7Kt9U0gN9I5eI1fzvqfkU2rkNivVD-garNStC5V8RmSpJaGtdiFOW0Wkmvc6zsoMJ3AmwlUhM5qEikowhyhTkP_XmAjXbD4pOEYM_aWjbUhhxQwFCC/s1600-h/Printelect---I-Voted-Today.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1tMEMzTKtSmRUw2qpsUfWamoRCz7Kt9U0gN9I5eI1fzvqfkU2rkNivVD-garNStC5V8RmSpJaGtdiFOW0Wkmvc6zsoMJ3AmwlUhM5qEikowhyhTkP_XmAjXbD4pOEYM_aWjbUhhxQwFCC/s400/Printelect---I-Voted-Today.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264899937659911282" border="0" /></a><br />Did you?<br /><br />Happy Election Day, peeps! Exercise your right!Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-42494103882778013142008-11-03T15:55:00.000-06:002008-11-03T15:56:06.437-06:00The best part of the yearYou know those people who do the whole, "Birthday Month" thing? Stretch their birthday out through the entire month they were born, demanding special attention and living hedonistically, eschewing common sense and practicality?<br /><br />So obviously you can see where this is going - IT'S MY BIRTHDAY MONTH!<br /><br />I am not one of those people who get depressed on their birthdays. I LOVE celebrating my birthday, and while I am not exactly thrilled with aging, I like to enjoy knowing that I lived another year without getting arrested, breaking my arm, rolling my vehicle, losing another friend, or getting run over by a car - all of which has happened to me before. Damn right I should celebrate!<br /><br />I'll turn 26 on the 8th. I'm having some issues deciding what to do, though. How lame is it to make all my friends show up in pink? Should we do a pub crawl? Rent a pink limo? Karaoke Spice Girls song's all night? Video scavenger hunt? Help me out, interwebz!<br /><br />A nice perk to kicking off birthday month is partying the night before on Halloween:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm0cBEFkBoiXXQFjRulkhJgIlyA6W60an_kyvzZ5_0WI7xptLgQ5qJ8q-h6BmyNUY7wTA8BbAzbCsNatg6EacJrWb7RuOqllyrNA3R5J4uNo3Hd2fATlgXph3u90GANfgPgyG4R3-AMif7/s1600-h/1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 301px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm0cBEFkBoiXXQFjRulkhJgIlyA6W60an_kyvzZ5_0WI7xptLgQ5qJ8q-h6BmyNUY7wTA8BbAzbCsNatg6EacJrWb7RuOqllyrNA3R5J4uNo3Hd2fATlgXph3u90GANfgPgyG4R3-AMif7/s400/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264548855081206914" border="0" /></a><br />Meet Abe Lincoln and his European mistress - stickers have been added to protect the innocent and mortified. Even though we're pretty sure Abe never made it Europe, who cares! As I predicted, Halloween was filled with sluts and d-bags, but oddly enough the most ubiquitous costume for females was a <a href="http://www.flappercostume.net/pics/0837flapperPpl1.jpg">flapper</a>. Really? Huh. Most of the men just glued devil horns to their forheads - LAME!! Unfortunately I have no pic's of said slutty women because I was too busy drinking <a href="http://www.drinkoftheweek.com/archive/c/capecod.htm">cape cods</a> and shaking my ass on the dance floor. Please accept my apologies and visit all 4 parts of this NSFW <a href="http://www.epiccarnival.com/2008/10/slutty-halloween-costumes-part-iv.html">website</a>, instead. You're welcome.Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-18800492609926207322008-10-31T13:57:00.003-05:002008-10-31T14:12:05.795-05:00Happy Halloween!Happy Halloween everyone!<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFb4_nbkQQc0ky81MUJtnS7z-tJY3zOvA8_SMVoFzTbAltC7fr5kuSE7-gdOvJSHLfpGy71hfHms5QydJFEAQduvlxUng1pWX0wjQOWfLB87D9VZjdIhD5L-raagy4CiLEtX0L7EjcK1y4/s1600-h/ohmygod.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 276px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFb4_nbkQQc0ky81MUJtnS7z-tJY3zOvA8_SMVoFzTbAltC7fr5kuSE7-gdOvJSHLfpGy71hfHms5QydJFEAQduvlxUng1pWX0wjQOWfLB87D9VZjdIhD5L-raagy4CiLEtX0L7EjcK1y4/s400/ohmygod.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263395416027226306" border="0" /></a><br />I'm pretty sure this is the scariest Halloween costume I've seen yet, and if I encounter anyone dressed like this tonight I am immediately pouring a drink on the twisted soul and running away. To my panic room. To call the police. And take a Xanax. Damn.<br /><br />Like I <a href="http://hotchildinthesuburbs.blogspot.com/2008/10/just-call-me-miss-cleo.html">mentioned earlier</a>, we'll be headed out tonight to party with the <s>pimps and hoes</s> ghouls and goblins, so check back in a few days to see pics of my costume and read the tales of terror and mayhem. And by terror and mayhem, I mean embarrassment and vodka induced dancing. The two practically go hand in hand, don't they?<br /><br />Also, be sure to check out <a href="http://www.humorbloggers.net/">Humorbloggers</a> today for the First Annual Halloween Humor Carnival!!<br /><center><a href=" http://www.humorbloggers.com/"><img border="0" style="display:block;border:0px solid #000000;margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" alt="WE BLOG FUNNY" src="http://i403.photobucket.com/albums/pp113/humorbloggers/Untitled1.jpg" /></a></center>Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-11720824636839029272008-10-27T10:45:00.012-05:002008-10-27T11:41:48.031-05:00Me, some strippers and lots of vodka - Halloween 2008So are you guys as excited as I am for Halloween?!?!?!?! HALLOWEEN! WOO!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sigh.</span> Whatever. I can't keep up that falsity - Halloween is annoying.<br /><br />Seriously. We're actually going out this weekend, and guess who I'll be hanging with?<br /><br />This girl:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOxS5lQQ4I1wLRYONXUkGTI_xc2Nf8RfUbmVq-oKueDGDbV8ASEYXx3INhhU4J6gSIxdoxWbUJmGq2VNJ0OMgIrJld4HjGAimM1T3cnaVNvOIr9N8KYRd0sqpHizg58aQjItP8d2PMbChh/s1600-h/slut1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 297px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOxS5lQQ4I1wLRYONXUkGTI_xc2Nf8RfUbmVq-oKueDGDbV8ASEYXx3INhhU4J6gSIxdoxWbUJmGq2VNJ0OMgIrJld4HjGAimM1T3cnaVNvOIr9N8KYRd0sqpHizg58aQjItP8d2PMbChh/s400/slut1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261861411216695794" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Who'll tell me she's in med-school and isnt this a "cute little spin" on her Halloween costume? Later, her two best friends, Tranny Teresa and Ditzy Diane who are either DRESSED as strippers or actually <span style="font-style: italic;">are</span> strippers (I've had a few drinks by this point) show up.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTd-FO5gPfQXR-QUzkgc8qUsZQUDR81R_yJ9eZKF_7QD1gwkN2-pBampNX02psBu_fGHy8f6iVG8TqXXJ5Y91pOpdC0sTWdm4iphaDYH5uL5Vd7TCd9931gxlEBUp6OXinpKt1aREGGxrL/s1600-h/slut2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 317px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTd-FO5gPfQXR-QUzkgc8qUsZQUDR81R_yJ9eZKF_7QD1gwkN2-pBampNX02psBu_fGHy8f6iVG8TqXXJ5Y91pOpdC0sTWdm4iphaDYH5uL5Vd7TCd9931gxlEBUp6OXinpKt1aREGGxrL/s400/slut2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261862588407154546" border="0" /></a><br />Then this guy will try to pick me up:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu4xW-rDY_kBKyGE50iKRAB7nSxvPIPEvRdPNqU1O5c8NVxmLA5Y7rAhg2hPySOhI5_01AWzHBhWSNU9_RmMNkQvv_tMHSuwfp5GKW5kIks6gs4UMQctOu14ce5Qki5mypjXzDy9VUzca4/s1600-h/snake-charmer.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 317px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu4xW-rDY_kBKyGE50iKRAB7nSxvPIPEvRdPNqU1O5c8NVxmLA5Y7rAhg2hPySOhI5_01AWzHBhWSNU9_RmMNkQvv_tMHSuwfp5GKW5kIks6gs4UMQctOu14ce5Qki5mypjXzDy9VUzca4/s400/snake-charmer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261863641155689826" border="0" /></a><br />but luckily he'll be hypnotized by Tranny Teresa's boobs and forget about me. Being around the three should be Playboy models will get me self analytical and then I'll start drinking a lot of these:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsZYjjJ1UD3_SOJMy24gUe8TY8RI2Tko16snugrnW_c63y3cevLjVy4IWLLmWRHiONwC17jJH3nTNLJfiVK80eKG__OszW8lD85e7ZKEK0nguoarRJ-pX0bC4pby3gt8QEgQCyYqqeO2mU/s1600-h/capecod.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 222px; height: 222px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsZYjjJ1UD3_SOJMy24gUe8TY8RI2Tko16snugrnW_c63y3cevLjVy4IWLLmWRHiONwC17jJH3nTNLJfiVK80eKG__OszW8lD85e7ZKEK0nguoarRJ-pX0bC4pby3gt8QEgQCyYqqeO2mU/s400/capecod.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261867245878122162" border="0" /></a>give up all hope for flat abs and start dancing like this:<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJlzlatmUWuFdri-4tIgpKQE5SaozE3xVRV3Czc9EaPii2SuqtAkm1Kp3otAt6NGaXwPmX7OLx2xhHk4sZONuPdWekkRx6XzEBYyhD_M766ZyqO2qMSmbPpdB62Tobd5Wdwpl-GMoL0diS/s1600-h/dancers.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 376px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJlzlatmUWuFdri-4tIgpKQE5SaozE3xVRV3Czc9EaPii2SuqtAkm1Kp3otAt6NGaXwPmX7OLx2xhHk4sZONuPdWekkRx6XzEBYyhD_M766ZyqO2qMSmbPpdB62Tobd5Wdwpl-GMoL0diS/s400/dancers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261870029985774098" border="0" /></a><br />get disapointing looks from my boyfriend, go home, and pass out in my costume. I'll wake up the next morning with a killer hangover, and my boyfriend asking me what the hell was I talking about last night when I said I was going to buy the <a href="http://www.aerobicstriptease.com/">"stripperobics" DVD's</a> and one of those collapsing dance poles?<br /><br />Cant. Wait.Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-41073514501318344112008-10-23T14:12:00.013-05:002008-10-24T11:12:15.526-05:00I'm not dead. I promise.YA'LL.<br /><br />I have totally been neglecting my friends, family, social life and obviously, my blog. I asked to work as much as possible, and my employers seem to think I was asking to move into the restaurant - I should probably just change my address and bring a pillow up there. I have no idea whats been going on with everyone - So HEY GUYS! What the hell has everyone been up to lately? Me? Lots of double shifts and home hunting - soon, the title of my blog will actually be relevant!<br /><br />While I was out slinging onion rings and margaritas, I was tagged and got a few awards!! You guys! This iss probably just ya'll's way of saying, "Hurry the fuck up and post something, damnit!" but I'll take it as a compliment, dont worry.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo0_4GHNnYViuwuOv6y0amqXb7RBzudToWLKext2XCSCFPxtlF6Au6eyL8ZCCbXNAAyMkLBjv3dKvu3_goOnmfPlalA10EW1ZSBBmvsfJpH71XsjPaElt59FIuT6cQzsPxi715Ypb5u5dr/s1600-h/zook-tastic-award.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 149px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo0_4GHNnYViuwuOv6y0amqXb7RBzudToWLKext2XCSCFPxtlF6Au6eyL8ZCCbXNAAyMkLBjv3dKvu3_goOnmfPlalA10EW1ZSBBmvsfJpH71XsjPaElt59FIuT6cQzsPxi715Ypb5u5dr/s400/zook-tastic-award.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260432492558290370" border="0" /></a>This lovely award was given to me by Melinda, over at <a href="http://www.melindazook.com/">Musings by Melinda Zook</a>. How freakin' cute is her blog? If you go there now you can watch the SNL skit with Sarah Palin (ya'll, I seriously just wrote Sarah Fey...they're practically interchangeable. Sorry, Tina Fey) and the moose. I know you've seen it already, but a preggo Amy Poleher rapping and mock shooting a fake moose will never, ever get old. Go! Now!<br /><br />This totally professional looking award was given to me by Petra, over at <a href="http://thewiseyoungmommy.blogspot.com/">The Wise (*Young*) Mommy</a>:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBlrrmv7bDqr8R5WCr3WBbBZEjj9pJujmfnMS4ZoTkDXRxHVunU9eiIVv-Cmb4oV_Cxm9zbVa5Kk33pECey1VM-fuoBZiJko4OEblIypplYxAwU3xCl9fIH9FD4z3Po8I3TkUkFVWqoNHb/s1600-h/p.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBlrrmv7bDqr8R5WCr3WBbBZEjj9pJujmfnMS4ZoTkDXRxHVunU9eiIVv-Cmb4oV_Cxm9zbVa5Kk33pECey1VM-fuoBZiJko4OEblIypplYxAwU3xCl9fIH9FD4z3Po8I3TkUkFVWqoNHb/s400/p.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260459685933972434" border="0" /></a>My girl Petra always has my back, and here she is to instill a little "mojo" into my blog. This award also comes with being "tagged" to write Six Things That Make You Happy, so here you go:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Six Things That Make Me Squee:</span><br />1. A FUCKING DAY OFF<br />2. Spending time with my daughter.<br />3. Going to the cafe behind our house to eat breakfast on the patio with my boyfriend.<br />4. Being with my BFF drinking wine<br />5. Dancing my butt off in a packed club<br />6. Having an entire day to myself to spend at my leisure<br /><br />AND I was also tagged by Sandee, at<a href="http://comedyplus.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2008-10-17T00%3A10%3A00-07%3A00&max-results=8"> Comedy Plus</a> to tell you guys Six Random, Bookish Things About ME. Sandee is so awesome, and funny, and her weekend feature, "<a href="http://comedyplus.blogspot.com/2008/10/comment-game.html">The Comment Game</a>" is surprisingly insightful while being really fun and kinda addicting. Go visit her!<br /><span style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; opacity: 0.999999;" id="fullpost"><br /></span><span style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; opacity: 0.999999;" id="fullpost">The rules:<br /><ol><li>Link to the person who tagged you.</li><li>Post the rules on the blog.</li><li>Write six random bookish things about yourself.</li><li>Tag sixish people at the end of your post.</li><li>Let each person know he or she has been tagged.<br /></li><li>Let the tagger know when your entry is up.<br /></li></ol>Okay, um, I'll do all that stuff later but for now, here we go:<br /><br />1. I have been trying to read some of the (not really)"classics" since last summer. I've read "Anna Karenina" (Ehhh), A Farewell To Arms (HATED. IT.), The Stranger (Really liked it), Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (really didnt see what everyone went crazy about, and I dont even care if that makes me sound ignorant), The Fountainhead (LOVED. IT.) and am currently laboring through Atlas Shrugged.<br /><br />2. I am so proud of our bookshelves. We totally need more "chick lit" (BTW, I despise that term), but otherwise we have a fairly well rounded collection of books, and there are probably over 300 of them. I refer to the section of our apartment housing the shelves as "the library".<br /><br />3. I have more than once went to Barnes and Nobles to hang out and read books. I will also admit that I have finished many a book there, without paying a cent. I am so sorry, and in the event that I fall down and hit my head really hard and have a concussion then wake up a great writer and decide to publish a book, I know karma will come back and bite me on the ass.<br /><br />4. Also, I really hate Barnes and Nobles, Borders, or any other retail book chain. I prefer to buy my books used, because the thought of someone having it before me, and maybe before them, etc. etc. is very endearing and also because I love the way old books look.<br /><br />5. I'll basically read anything. I am never NOT reading a book. But I really only like to read one at a time, and even if I loathe it, I will finish it.<br /><br />6. And possibly the most bookish thing about me? I have a freakin' shelfari account! A social media tool for BOOKS! I am a nerd and I embrace it.<br /><br />OKAY! I am going back to work now. I know. I'm a slave to the serving tray. Someone host an intervention!<br /><br />EDIT: UH. Can someone please tell me why the bottom portion of my blog is highlighted and how to fix it? Thanks!<br />EDITED AGAIN: OWWWWW Jesus! That highlighted portion is</span><span style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; opacity: 0.999999;" id="fullpost"> really bright!<br />EDITED AGAIN: Well, I just have no idea. I'm sorry. I tried to fix it, but no luck. Blogger hates me.<br /></span>Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-38699215009490044302008-10-15T15:32:00.008-05:002008-10-16T10:08:12.159-05:00Blog Action Day: PovertyThis is normally a humor blog, but today I want to use my blog as a platform. October 15th is Blog Action Day, the day when <span>thousands of bloggers will unite to discuss a single issue - poverty. </span><br /><br />I'm a 25 year old white female from the suburbs of Houston. I was raised in a married household, went to award winning public schools, and while we weren't wealthy or even well off, we did okay and I did not ever spend a night hungry, or without clothing or basic human necessities.<br /><br />Then, suddenly, my parents got divorced. My mother moved out of state. My father spent all of his time dealing with his depression and his disability, and I moved out at the age of 18.<br /><br />I had no experience with anything "real life" related. I didn't know how to manage money, cook, or even do laundry. I got a job waiting tables, and my (then) boyfriend and I got an apartment. He was also a waiter, and I remember the first time we did our income taxes, we both made a combined amount of $14,000.00 and I was impressed - again, I was 18. But I vividly remember thinking, "If $14,000.00 is so much money, why are we always broke? Where is it going?", and the realization I had a few years later was that it wasn't <span style="font-style: italic;">going</span> anywhere, we just didn't have enough money to survive.<br /><br />Pride and family estrangement got in the way of asking for last minute loans from our families. We drove old, beat up cars that we could rarely afford to fix. We would drive around on bald tires, no AC in 100 degree temps, and for a while we drove an old Mitsubishi Eclipse without a radio, that had been severely rear ended. The mechanic told me our car was not fit to drive, due to the accident causing the squished back end of the car to be dangerously close to puncturing the gas tank. It was "totaled" and our only car. There are no bus lines in the suburbs, and we had no choice - we had to get to work, so we drove it anyway. Horribly embarrassing, and severely dangerous.<br /><br />We both worked at restaurants, so if we didn't have enough money to eat, we knew we could go somewhere for food. However, one week the boyfriend and I got in a huge fight and he took the car. We did not have a telephone, (and having a cellphone was a luxury back then) and all we had to eat in the house was a economy sized can of fruit cocktail. Don't ask me what on earth made us buy it, but thank God we did because its all I ate for a week. It was all I had. I remember the feeling of hunger setting in, like a dull reminder that food was a necessity. I let it go for as long as I could wait, because I knew there was nothing else to eat, and I needed to make it stretch - when the boyfriend came back 6 days later, I wish I could say I walked out then and there and never looked back - but I cant. I didn't.<br /><br />I've lived for weeks without electricity because we didn't have enough to pay the bill. In the winter <span style="font-style: italic;">and</span> the summer. I never had health insurance, and now I owe nearly 10 grand in medical bills from that time. I had enough presence of mind to take good care of my teeth, thank God. I've been on Medicare AND food stamps. Technically, my fellow taxpayers paid for the birth of my baby. They've fed me. They picked me up and made sure I got the things I needed, even if it was an uphill struggle. How can I express my gratitude? I don't think I can ever get across how much it means to me, but today, I'll donate my day's wages to the Houston chapter of the <a href="http://www.endhunger.com/">End Hunger network</a>. It is a small gesture, but it's one of the small things I <span style="font-style: italic;">can</span> do.<br /><br />That was 7 years ago. It feels like yesterday.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><script src="http://blogactionday.org/js/208ff924b8072b64993309ebaf2feee1af45c3d3"></script><br /></span>Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-83484428392742949842008-10-13T10:33:00.009-05:002008-10-13T12:41:27.312-05:00Deep breaths. Deep breaths.Yes, WaMu went kaput and AIG is burning through their <span style="font-style: italic;">two</span> bailout checks like a wildfire, sometimes getting gas can be like a scavenger hunt, and seriously? it might be cheaper now just to go buy a fucking cow to keep on hand for milk every week.<br /><br />Yes, our economy is going down faster than a tranny hooker on Charlie Sheen, but there are still some small comforts in life - low humidity days, frozen margarita's, sunsets, good books, those pink and white frosted little circus cookies, oh wait:<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV0cSnlIVC06bESF2PF7FHnUK38Q0SWjGyxnJQAIXRZVolCxAlkrEfhQTdEJx3NMSwDg7trW0O0MIh3qsUcQHIYXtQo2XCEYcpuLLFbLHQUQ035xpHUugW_E83YTW5eE2NmJIgQ2AAyMRl/s1600-h/ohgodno.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV0cSnlIVC06bESF2PF7FHnUK38Q0SWjGyxnJQAIXRZVolCxAlkrEfhQTdEJx3NMSwDg7trW0O0MIh3qsUcQHIYXtQo2XCEYcpuLLFbLHQUQ035xpHUugW_E83YTW5eE2NmJIgQ2AAyMRl/s400/ohgodno.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256665819811449490" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=95591144&ft=1&f=1006">Mother's Cookies Crumbles</a><br /><br />(PS: that is a seriously lazy and insincere headline line, NPR)<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Well, aint that some shit. First it was <a href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1315/1467701989_18a412878c.jpg?v=0">Bennigan's Broccoli bites</a> and now THIS. People of the world who run the economy machine listen up - if you do not want to induce mass panic and depression (more so than you already do, or are doing currently) please do not take away our small comforts. It's really in your best interest to ensure the cookie factories keep running - PMSing women and sugar addicts are <span>truculent and </span>alarmingly brutal. I understand that you might've lost $538,000.00 in stock, but we are poor and that money you lost is like <span style="font-style: italic;">our</span> animal cookies. Except you probably have lots more money left and we have NO MORE COOKIES, ASSHOLE.<br /><br />RIP Mother's cookies. I look forward to paying three times the amount for a bag of frosted deliciousness on the black market soon. Ya'll dont even want to know what I did for a case of broccoli bites - demoralizing, but totally worth it.<br /></div></div>Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-738504409831542222008-10-10T13:48:00.009-05:002008-10-10T15:09:59.810-05:00Ya'll are all crazy, and thats okay.If you have google analytics, you'll know that one of the best things about checking your stats is the keywords. Honestly, that is the only reason I signed up - site meter was just lacking in the interesting keyword feature, plus I like to <s>stalk my readers </s> know where all you guys are reading from.<br /><br />Anyway, since real life has taken a precedence this week, here are my top 5 favorite key word searches:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">5. Need a fucking good knife</span><br />Is this a question? Are you trying to sell me something? WHY do you need a fucking good knife? Whats with the 'f' word? I sincerely hope you did not find what you were looking for here. Also for all you other peeps looking for a fucking good knife? Try academy first.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">4. Fruit bat costume child</span><br />Okay. Have you ever seen a fruit bat? <a href="http://www.sangomaskulls.com/images/tax_mammals/egyptian_fruit_bat.jpg">Click here</a> if you are un-informed. What the hell? Why are you dressing your poor child as a fruit bat? The only excuse for this is if your son or daughter is in some sort of wild life play, or they just have a bizarre interest in fruit bats. Children are weird - have I mentioned my four year old child wants to be a duck? Somewhere, someone is looking at their analytics saying, "child duck girl costume" and shaking their heads.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">3. Fat yarn rolls</span><br />Ohmygod, please tell me that there is not a BBW yard doll fetish. And if so, HOW did my site become associated with it? That is simultaneously awesome and terrifying.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">2. Peeing in the sink<br /></span>Really, people? You actually need to google "peeing in the sink"?<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>What the hell can you be looking for that you don't already know?<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>Instructions? Do you have a peeing in the sink fetish? Is it limited to only in the sink? Cause if so, that must be some hard material to find. I cant imagine how many "sink peeing" fetishists I disappointed. Sorry, guys.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />1. What gay men do with ice cream<br /></span>I am intrigued. What DO gay men do with ice cream? Are there any gay men who can answer this question for me and the one other person who googled this?<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>Now I feel like I've been wasting all my opportunities for some good, kinky fun by simply eating my ice cream!<br /><br />I also want to announce that I am now a member of one of the most prestigious, amazing kick ass blogging groups out there - <a href="http://www.humorbloggers.com/">humor bloggers dot com! </a>Thank you to the darling <a href="http://ettarose-edgeofsanity.blogspot.com/">Ettarose</a> who asked me to join up and blog funny with the other awesome peeps who are seriously way talented and hilarious. I am in the presence of greatness! Get your asses over there now to read some of the internet's finest humor, snark, and general insanity - especially now that I'm a part of the clan.<br /><br /><a href=" http://www.humorbloggers.com/"><img border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168923798517701042" style="display:block;border:0px solid #000000;margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" alt="WE BLOG FUNNY" src="http://i403.photobucket.com/albums/pp113/humorbloggers/icon.gif" width=150px;height=150px></a>Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-77916629188921441712008-10-06T09:58:00.009-05:002008-10-06T16:38:46.692-05:00Snip snip!You know how there are just some words that you really don't like to use? They just make you uncomfortable and squirmy, and your brain recoils in shock and disgust at the thought of them? Two common offenders seem to be "panties" and "moist", but those dont bug me, personally (hey, a girl's gotta have her dirty talk!).<br /><br />Sometimes, though, the word you hate the most is the most adequate way to describe something, and this weekend there was no getting around the word that makes me squirm: douchebag.<br /><br />I <span style="font-style: italic;">hate</span> that word. Somehow over the past few years it's come back into common conversation to usually describe a dude who looks and acts like this:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyuTMh4ufuQGUHoScjI1ULhHSdtnPPUE1A9_d7c-BzhT5DeXYjC-BwArOwjGWuntv2-hXM-A237VOWCBheY-VcfJtsGvs4Z00Soe3dmXn1frwH2AebEHvYQj2ErPftI1xcyT_WcO-KniZR/s1600-h/dbag.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyuTMh4ufuQGUHoScjI1ULhHSdtnPPUE1A9_d7c-BzhT5DeXYjC-BwArOwjGWuntv2-hXM-A237VOWCBheY-VcfJtsGvs4Z00Soe3dmXn1frwH2AebEHvYQj2ErPftI1xcyT_WcO-KniZR/s400/dbag.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254061476350707858" border="0" /></a><br /><br />or this:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5FdTAmTYhEMNB1vdRN9B-V4QGbTPQawbZULTOYGTpZL62DrCpG8bvcigeBt7F3-VHoL1JsiydlSuTcAN3DVYwBf_vHro5cPLysWG7euCjWgc-S6tu8y8dPzrwsw0wEJd1JlDOUc3GuDNY/s1600-h/url.htm"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5FdTAmTYhEMNB1vdRN9B-V4QGbTPQawbZULTOYGTpZL62DrCpG8bvcigeBt7F3-VHoL1JsiydlSuTcAN3DVYwBf_vHro5cPLysWG7euCjWgc-S6tu8y8dPzrwsw0wEJd1JlDOUc3GuDNY/s400/url.htm" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254062004395257730" border="0" /></a><br /><br />and the reason I hate the word, other than it's just gross to say, is that it somehow became appropriate to make fun of someone by calling them a feminine hygiene product. Which is kind of weird, right? I know that there are other insults pertaining to the genitalia of both sexes, but douchebag (ugh) is just a special kind of wrongness. I think we all know what it means, but if you dont, go <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Douche">here</a> and educate yourselves (actually, you probably just need to click <a href="http://disney.go.com/index">here</a> instead, you're way too young to be reading this fuckery). Personally, I think we need to find out what the left over snippings from a vasectomy procedure are, and start using that as an insult, too. Just to even things up a bit. Gender equality, people! Its the new millennium!Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-74083720022185018882008-10-03T09:50:00.007-05:002008-10-03T12:26:19.752-05:00Secrets from a disgruntled waitressWhile I've been at work slaving away over a server tray, I got to thinking about all the people who have never worked in the food service industry. Mainly about how lucky you are if you never have, because they don't call it the Black Hole Industry for nothin'. Actually I totally made that up just now, but people HAVE said it. I need a trademark, asap.<br /><br />Anyway, there are certain things that go on inside a restaurant you don't see. Certain...undesirable things. Things that would make you never, ever want to eat out again. I'm going to break the code of Servers Working for Servers to let you guys in on a couple of secrets. If you don't hear from me in a few days, assume I've been moved and placed into the folds of the Witness Protection Program, Waitress Division.<br /><br />Firstly, we eat your food. French fries, veggies, popcorn shrimp, olives, spinach dip, if its small enough for you to not notice it being gone, we've eaten it. I even used to know a girl who would press her finger on the steaks and lick off the juices! We are working around yummy, delicious food constantly. We are hungry! However, we never double dip and sometimes we use our own sauces. A small consolation for you.<br /><br />The kitchen staff drops food on the floor constantly. And guess what? they don't throw it away, either. They might not even wash it off. I don't know. But they toss that baby on the grill or in the fryer and "cook off the germs". Would you do that in your own home? Hell to the no. But it happens. I've seen it with my own two eyes, plenty of times. Think about that the next time you order a tuna steak.<br /><br />If you order a mixed drink we've never tried, we will try it. We'll stick a straw in that baby, put our finger on the top, lean our heads back and drink from the straw. This isn't too bad, since there are no germ transfers from us waitstaff (bar staff is an entirely different story...their fingers are all up in your drink, by the way) but I've seen people do worse. This has amazing benefits, since you don't have to order a $7 chocolate martini just to taste it.<br /><br />Lastly, we talk shit about you.<span style="font-style: italic;"> Especially</span> if you are rude. The number one thing you can do wrong while eating out is be rude to your server. The more you're an asshole, the more we don't care, and you will cease to get a refill and decent service. Most of the time, the owners even encourage this.<br />Also, if you're hot, your waiter will go brag to all the other waitstaff about the hottie he/she's waiting on and everyone will try to discreetly look at you and then crack jokes about what you would be like in bed. Seriously. Its disgusting how ruthless we are. (Edited to add: by "we" I do not specifically mean me because I am way above this kind of behavior. Now, I mean. Five years ago, not so much.)<br /><br />BUT! With the bad comes the good - no one will spit in your food/drink no matter how awful you are, we are constantly washing our hands because we think germs are gross, too, and don't like handling other people's food, either, and most of the time we genuinely care about your dining experience. Unless you're a dick, then good luck getting another jack and coke, baby.Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-77299936176469009662008-10-01T15:27:00.008-05:002008-10-01T16:13:08.265-05:00Lame-oWhile recovering from the Epic Drinking Binge of 2k8, going to two fruitless job interviews, working, then coming home late at night so tired and so hungry, I have become totally boring this week. Total snooze fest. Sorry guys. I got nothin'.<br /><br />So good thing Petra over at <a href="http://thewiseyoungmommy.blogspot.com/">The Wise (*Young*) Mommy</a> tagged me for this meme, right?!? You saved the day, girl!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">1. Where were you 10 years ago?</span><br /><br />I was a sophomore in high school and starting drivers ed. I had a totally obsessive and unrequited crush on this guy Greg (names have been changed to protected the innocent and mortified) and by some stroke of luck we were paired together in our driving class. With all the swooning in the back seat and furtive glances in the rear view mirror back at him, its amazing I even learned to drive in the first place.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">2. What's on Today's To-Do List?</span><br /><br />I have already completed everything on my to-do list because I am a badass. Or because there were only 2 things on it. I prefer the first explanation.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">3. Name Five Places You Have Lived</span><br /><br />Houston, Tx<br />Katy, TX<br />Prosser, WA<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">4. Name Three of Your Bad Habits</span><br /><br />I have a really hard time remembering to close the cabinet doors, and it usually results in the taller people in my home (JP) smacking their heads on them. I also leave my car doors unlocked constantly (but I drive a crap car so it would really be better for me if it got stolen, anyway) and I chew my cuticles when I am stressed out. Gross, huh?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">5. What Are Your Favorite Snacks?</span><br /><br />I am a trail mix addict, y'all. Once when I was pregnant I ate an entire bag in one sitting! I also like tapioca pudding cups, pickles...actually I think I'd consider anything not an entire meal a snack, so bring it on.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">6. Who Will You Tag for This Meme?</span><br /><br />Serena, over at <a href="http://zipntizzy.blogspot.com/">Zip 'n' Tizzy</a>! Go for it mama!Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-25584997526205552262008-09-29T12:46:00.004-05:002008-09-29T12:59:42.908-05:006 days and countingYou know when you go out and then in the beginning of your evening something happens to make you realize that life is just a big craptastic pile of crappy crap? And then you're so fed up you just say, "Fuck it" and begin to drink like they're reinstating prohibition tomorrow morning? And then you're all drunk at midnight and fall asleep in the taxi on the way home and it takes your friend 20 minutes to wake you up while the taxi driver is still letting the clock run and she ends up paying an extra $15.00 and has to spend the night at your house and sleep on your tiny couch because she gave all her money to the cab driver from hell? And then you wake up at 6am still in your clothes and wonder, "Where am I? What the hell just happened?" but then you get dizzy and thinking makes your head hurt so you go back to bed until noon and wake up with a death threat taped to your forehead from your friend who decided to take your car home because you couldn't be bothered to wake up? And then you just spend the day laying on the couch watching TBS until said friend comes back with your car, some excedrin and a cheeseburger? And then you curse red wine and declare never to drink again and then she makes a bet with you that your declaration wont even last until Monday?<br /><br />YOU KNOW?!<br /><br />I know good people and my weekend sucked. The end.Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-71830044668465126792008-09-26T12:13:00.010-05:002008-09-26T15:02:19.851-05:00Awards - I has them!!!!!!!Look! Look! Check this shiz out:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgX2t4NejXkxKuwAiQZbFpvdvpsRRNPE6x4L8Z-NBoQKlfTlKnW5uX6k3IsHtARt4uLh1qsKeCvOkWqbSPw4dusQu7ffGmo6bgS5dNNJ2oMRMZgOBD1ZprQPIZpT1cfZm1ZTdiGyouikFP/s1600-h/brilliantweblog.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgX2t4NejXkxKuwAiQZbFpvdvpsRRNPE6x4L8Z-NBoQKlfTlKnW5uX6k3IsHtARt4uLh1qsKeCvOkWqbSPw4dusQu7ffGmo6bgS5dNNJ2oMRMZgOBD1ZprQPIZpT1cfZm1ZTdiGyouikFP/s400/brilliantweblog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250379820029888482" border="0" /></a><br />My awesome prism of greatness has <a href="http://hotchildinthesuburbs.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-got-award-omg.html">come back to me</a>! Oh how I love thee, beautiful prism. I have to thank Mike over at <a href="http://www.okcrazy.com/">Ok, Crazy</a> for bringing the prism back home to mama. His blog is SO F'ING FUNNY and if you haven't read it yet then you need to go do is asap before you get <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LeXKoZVI9pI">attacked by killer locusts</a>. You really don't want the last thought you have before death to be about a blog, do you? Nope. So go, go darling readers. But you'd better come back when you're done, damnit.<br /><br />I want to give this award to Sandee at <a href="http://comedyplus.blogspot.com/">Comedy Plus</a>. Sandee's blog always puts a smile on my face and I look forward to dropping on it. And have you seen her awards page? Good lord! She is on a friggin' cruise right now, while the rest of us slave away at our respective jobs or homes, cooking dinner after dinner for our family without an OUNCE of thanks or gratitude for being the glue that holds this damn family together!!!!!!! Whoa. Sorry. I think I've been watching too much Lifetime TV or something.<br /><br />Anyway, I was also awarded this from Ethan aka <a href="http://naturalhawg.blogspot.com/">The Natural State Hawg</a>:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_2CXnVgxrFkYQtfI1hKCK8lGD64KVWeAtWBpKvu0kJ1Cggc6PUAQZCtTS4YuhCsf6ne0cNQF05QquZJc7vT2yabQmQrj_796g65uqyMMONvZl5gNxFzyTdy0D4HIMoC6fCSBKE4St36ms/s1600-h/iloveyourblog.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_2CXnVgxrFkYQtfI1hKCK8lGD64KVWeAtWBpKvu0kJ1Cggc6PUAQZCtTS4YuhCsf6ne0cNQF05QquZJc7vT2yabQmQrj_796g65uqyMMONvZl5gNxFzyTdy0D4HIMoC6fCSBKE4St36ms/s400/iloveyourblog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250409123321830178" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Which totally caught me off guard. SO flattered. He writes about smart people stuff which is totally awesome, but my blog must be like mind cotton candy to him. Which is cool. I can live with that. Everyone reads Hawg's blog, but if you don't then you're missing out on some great stories from the perspective of an Arkie. Don't know what an "Arkie" is? Go read his blog and educate yourself, peeps.<br /><br />And I tried, but I just cant pick any one single person to give this to. I love ALL your blogs! If I comment, that means I'm reading daily. And I don't read blogs I don't love. So consider it all of yours, babies.<br /><br />And <a href="http://hotchildinthesuburbs.blogspot.com/2008/09/two-awards-and-magic-box.html">I'm done spending my BFF Gold Card on imaginary shoes</a>, and I want to pass the fortune on to Chat Blanc, at <a href="http://witsbitch.blogspot.com/">Wit's Bitch</a>.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjlNIR28bkDkwq58_i_I5-x51fZq-01Okk0r2icEKQ0Jxq6W-EKBedkq-hUmynF5IO8lPoI_Ea8SO8Bcj7qDZAAV4dGi-skhdS4_1bOCCqpG54tY0CDJYt0cMfhPZOYjiWobfOtbLqlMJN/s1600-h/goldcard-award.thumbnail.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjlNIR28bkDkwq58_i_I5-x51fZq-01Okk0r2icEKQ0Jxq6W-EKBedkq-hUmynF5IO8lPoI_Ea8SO8Bcj7qDZAAV4dGi-skhdS4_1bOCCqpG54tY0CDJYt0cMfhPZOYjiWobfOtbLqlMJN/s400/goldcard-award.thumbnail.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250418077197980498" border="0" /></a><br />I love her dry, sarcastic humor and she always comments on my inane tweets, too. She <a href="http://witsbitch.blogspot.com/2008/09/runway-roadkill.html">loves Fashion Week just like I do</a>, <a href="http://witsbitch.blogspot.com/2008/09/today-battle-royale.html">she hates bugs just like I do</a>, and we're both on the <a href="http://witsbitch.blogspot.com/2008/08/job-search-has-gone-to-dogs.html">hunt of a new source of cizash</a>. She's recruiting ghost busters today, so go sign up if your interested.<br /><br />Also, Laura at <a href="http://www.junkfoodaholic.com/">A Junk Foodaholic</a> tagged me for the "SIX <s>Unspectacular</s>AWESOMELY BADASS QUIRKS ABOUT YOU THAT YOU ARE PROUD OF AND NEED LOTS AND LOTS OF PRAISE AND REASSURANCE ABOUT" meme earlier this month. Sorry it took me so damn long, Laura! If you've been reading my blog for a while you'll definitely remember that insanity, but if you haven't, go <a href="http://hotchildinthesuburbs.blogspot.com/2008/08/six-awesomely-badass-quirks.html">here</a> and prepared to be amazed at the amount of crazy.<br /><br />Whew! There ya go. Thank you all so much for my shiny new awards! Have a great weekend, guys!Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-14282022737568103512008-09-24T12:54:00.008-05:002008-09-24T13:19:48.345-05:00How to look totally crazy just to win a camera - in three easy steps!Step one:<br />Gather materials. You will need a sheet of paper, a marker of some sort, scissors, tape and a glass of milk.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSJ8ntcnthk-dLWoR1hDkhJRelC5LqGA-Ku8H7fNNV5czLxqxlhlSuD7aen6W_1HzRuRbXnUABHdokbiRe57qremul_sB8EJizXZ27aFkz4XF_s7q7XBms0N1CVyyr9eH1Nrk0vQPrCMgI/s1600-h/IMG_2878.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSJ8ntcnthk-dLWoR1hDkhJRelC5LqGA-Ku8H7fNNV5czLxqxlhlSuD7aen6W_1HzRuRbXnUABHdokbiRe57qremul_sB8EJizXZ27aFkz4XF_s7q7XBms0N1CVyyr9eH1Nrk0vQPrCMgI/s400/IMG_2878.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249648190874878226" border="0" /></a><br />Step two:<br />Use marker to write out your blog's URL on the piece of paper. Cut it out and apply a loop of tape to the back side.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmQD_hvyX_MVVpo9U7ua3wNr-nvvdWnScrBc1GqKngqPBWFpoelchoP4W5S4Qk8cojkusiCqRI2-ixsZV4-Mz7xOaqeoHPAd51COjGKCJ3v4iXA0_uY_fKHhVGEeUCvf-s8lVQP6QCSfE3/s1600-h/IMG_2880.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmQD_hvyX_MVVpo9U7ua3wNr-nvvdWnScrBc1GqKngqPBWFpoelchoP4W5S4Qk8cojkusiCqRI2-ixsZV4-Mz7xOaqeoHPAd51COjGKCJ3v4iXA0_uY_fKHhVGEeUCvf-s8lVQP6QCSfE3/s400/IMG_2880.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249650237189432178" border="0" /></a>Step three:<br />Attach the cut out piece of paper to your forehead. Take a huge gulp of milk, making sure that your milk mustache is on prominent display. Snap photo. Post to blog. Pray to all things holy that you win the damn camera so this humiliating moment will be worth it all in the end. Convince self you are not a woman on the verge of desperation, no, it is <span style="font-style: italic;">art</span>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4whoOudtvuO5ZgCnAl34OEKb4IQDImz3fZ7cy8z3-Oz4fx4IwBztK925rfhCPcCJzpt-kJiDfjj_DAS4RyQPx_RDBpOwC_rPDCAdCJkqw7yKZSD95GqB_Zi-IFE1n7Ux-qy0jP4EC91R6/s1600-h/IMG_2855.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4whoOudtvuO5ZgCnAl34OEKb4IQDImz3fZ7cy8z3-Oz4fx4IwBztK925rfhCPcCJzpt-kJiDfjj_DAS4RyQPx_RDBpOwC_rPDCAdCJkqw7yKZSD95GqB_Zi-IFE1n7Ux-qy0jP4EC91R6/s400/IMG_2855.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249652567631419378" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Voila! </span>However, there are a few things you should know beforehand: it is really hard to smile with a milk mustache, there is no way to look cute with a piece of paper stuck to your head unless you are like, Heidi Klum or a child or just not me, I guess, and be prepared to drink a lot of milk. Ugh.Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-37396782525390947112008-09-23T11:19:00.007-05:002008-09-23T12:20:49.831-05:00I'm not giving back the jeans, so screw you karmaBehold, my ugliest pair of shoes:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-k2QY3alq7klHVigap5OH_Tc9DX1Be0Oj0q3nPu0chOGnBBjIsgWYMCs3UYOWifbkWAftgtp7Lglmqs1XueomHwiZLg5MiFW-nYheYniihwNUdaUlvB0NQvTuNvettPjfdTVCwcUkxdOw/s1600-h/IMG_2826.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-k2QY3alq7klHVigap5OH_Tc9DX1Be0Oj0q3nPu0chOGnBBjIsgWYMCs3UYOWifbkWAftgtp7Lglmqs1XueomHwiZLg5MiFW-nYheYniihwNUdaUlvB0NQvTuNvettPjfdTVCwcUkxdOw/s400/IMG_2826.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249252833462247842" border="0" /></a>For the contest over at <a href="http://abritandabit.typepad.com/spotted_dick_and_other_mu/2008/09/canon-camera-gi.html">Barking Mad</a><br /></div><br />And technically, these aren't even MY shoes!<br /><br />My best friend and I have a very strange relationship when it comes to sharing clothing and shoes. We are lucky enough to wear mostly the same size (she has a little more "junk in the trunk" and I have...umm....I have "brighter headlights" I guess? Why are there no car analogies for bodacious tatas?) in said items, and when we lived closer together, our closets were practically interchangeable. The only problem with this situation: the borrowee hijacks the borrowed item and claims it as her own. My bff will go on and on and indignantly claim that she does not do this, but I accompanied her to class a few weeks back and what did I see on her feet? My white flip flops I thought went missing about 6 months ago. Huh! Imagine that.<br /><br />However, this is not the case with these shoes. About 3 years ago, we were shopping together at Khols and she showed me the above pair of shoes that she "really loved". I thought she was insane and told her they were hideous, but she ignored my disgust and lamented that she did not have the money. It being very close to her birthday, I had the brilliant idea to come back and get these shoes for her at a later date. You might argue that a good friend would never let <span style="font-style: italic;">their</span> good friend commit a fashion crime, but if I had that mindset, I would have donated more than half of her clothes to Goodwill a long time ago.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg1E-jYlEK1D9wYA_OMSemWD4YNEksD4W6CxOLHHH2ovmwKLS-fDIFRb3qvwg4vy8u4wvKel9RLWfzQgXeMzlzg67guqiVIw6uY0o1ok5Ge1uxUzd_e-D-wxhdGY3o7G1mCFybQbG0jE8D/s1600-h/oh_snap.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg1E-jYlEK1D9wYA_OMSemWD4YNEksD4W6CxOLHHH2ovmwKLS-fDIFRb3qvwg4vy8u4wvKel9RLWfzQgXeMzlzg67guqiVIw6uY0o1ok5Ge1uxUzd_e-D-wxhdGY3o7G1mCFybQbG0jE8D/s400/oh_snap.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249263346398934386" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">(KIDDING...just seeing if you're paying attention, lala)<br /></div><br />Of course when I went back to purchase the ugly beasts, they were sold out. So after searching all over the city for these shoes, I proudly presented them to her on her birthday. She <span style="font-style: italic;">seemed</span> happy at the time, but a few months later when I needed to quickly borrow some black boots for something or other, she thrust these at me and never looked back. Since I hate them, I've tried to return them to her a few times, but she's not having it, and further inquiry has provided me with the opinion I knew she had all along: she doesn't like them any more. So I ended up buying myself a pair of ugly shoes in the end of it all, really. Maybe this is karma's way of telling me to give her back her jeans she doesn't know I've had for 2 years?Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-33367408526339451382008-09-22T09:31:00.007-05:002008-09-22T10:15:37.016-05:00I love you, Mr. CoffeeWe've been in the market for a new coffee maker for a while now, and this weekend we went out and finally bit the bullet. Our previous coffee pot looked something like this:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRbg6U8xYMa9ZWVp1y2EIphliSMl2WglsPH2LVTRQ1US6voRLLL0Yi85wWSOBHtegILaWb5BXwXLILyRoq3LcD8_jNSCmVWXLWaRkGNINM3_wj6p_or5PHDbDdTgcd-RaOFjYGdjfA0SBm/s1600-h/master+OCE065.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRbg6U8xYMa9ZWVp1y2EIphliSMl2WglsPH2LVTRQ1US6voRLLL0Yi85wWSOBHtegILaWb5BXwXLILyRoq3LcD8_jNSCmVWXLWaRkGNINM3_wj6p_or5PHDbDdTgcd-RaOFjYGdjfA0SBm/s400/master+OCE065.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248854077618048738" border="0" /></a>It made - <span style="font-style: italic;">gasp</span> - only 4 cups, and it had one button: off or on. Your only choice: Do you want coffee or not? It took me less than a minute to make coffee in the morning, and since I only drink 2 cups, it was perfect for me. Not so perfect for the other coffee drinking person who lives in this house, or if we had more than 2 guests over. Whatever.<br /><br />So off to Target we went in search of our new liquid crack machine. When we arrived in the designated aisle, I couldn't believe what I saw - What were all these shiny buttons? Is that a...clock? On a coffee pot? And get a load of this - did you know you can actually set a timer on your coffee maker and have it <span style="font-style: italic;">start making coffee before you even wake up</span>??? And guys, I'm kind of embarrassed to admit this, but I didn't even know that they <span style="font-style: italic;">had</span> permanent coffee filters. As you can probably tell, I've been drinking my coffee back in 1979 or something. But I had no problem with our little Mr. Coffee from back in the day. I think it's nice to keep things simple sometimes, you know?<br /><br />Somehow, this is the one we ended up getting:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixFyOIH6QqBpAR1zbHCNUBLN3uhf_L9eG5Ei7DDaglOZQE3dJZ3wRBFjaS9QkCadOZjoVDAaWWkHE-xMAWnSvPumXdzXf1JxjjGhT8zqxJvYPlMlZ2PleErw4pci90AKH4pSxJlytxfzkB/s1600-h/_Mr._Coffee_Coffee_Maker_r3iDetail.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixFyOIH6QqBpAR1zbHCNUBLN3uhf_L9eG5Ei7DDaglOZQE3dJZ3wRBFjaS9QkCadOZjoVDAaWWkHE-xMAWnSvPumXdzXf1JxjjGhT8zqxJvYPlMlZ2PleErw4pci90AKH4pSxJlytxfzkB/s400/_Mr._Coffee_Coffee_Maker_r3iDetail.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248857074198817586" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Ho. Lee. Shit. This coffee maker does not fuck around. It has a timer, a program feature, an alarm and you can select your <span style="font-style: italic;">brew strength. </span>This mofo cranks out 12 cups of coffee in like, 3 minutes! It has a permanent filter (just doin' our part for mama earth, ya'll), a water filter and this crazy little knob that lets you select the temperature on the coffee plate. The only down side? It took me 5 minutes to figure out how to turn this bitch on today. I'm pretty sure I heard the smug laughter from the old coffee pot we shoved away under the counter. Jerk.Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-20965453932059726202008-09-21T14:38:00.006-05:002008-09-21T14:58:08.156-05:00Barking mad for the Cannon give away!So you want to see a picture of the most organized "under the bed space" ever?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAEnY-QPDupttFULVykeUwafhQrdWAhSN9rd3Ilh9hWBD3OiS8FLnxK6ERx_qDBf36aL9SlKD5zpeT7wLHeH3Ba-PcyiHCF_sor6sTqpWNuwX2DFhJceaVp0CiyJZrVufCAMVFKxOQyLqd/s1600-h/IMG_2815.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAEnY-QPDupttFULVykeUwafhQrdWAhSN9rd3Ilh9hWBD3OiS8FLnxK6ERx_qDBf36aL9SlKD5zpeT7wLHeH3Ba-PcyiHCF_sor6sTqpWNuwX2DFhJceaVp0CiyJZrVufCAMVFKxOQyLqd/s400/IMG_2815.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248561957878531970" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Well, maybe not THE MOST organized, but for me that's progress.<br /><br />While reading Nik's blog, <a href="http://proseandconverse.wordpress.com/">Prose & Converse</a>, I stumbled upon a contest thrown by the lovely and generous Auds, over at <a href="http://abritandabit.typepad.com/">Barking Mad</a>. She's giving away a Canon camera with all the trimmings and ya'll - mama wants a new camera and I am not going to let this one pass me by.<br /><br />Wanna play along and be my competition? Here's what ya gotta do: Go visit the site, snap a pic per her request, put your URL on that Mr. Linky thingy and that's it! You can enter up to 5 times, and the contest runs for nearly a full month. Easy! The above photo was snapped for the category, "Under your bed", and I promise I didn't spend 15 minutes furiously cleaning and straightening up all those plastic containers. Seriously. Promise.<br /><br />Go do it!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglukq3QKB8lfQyBPfqYzVUarEoRfiAblDAxxBCR9DNpPVE6t6MimxI_37pPg3zQmGH0NlRRsuaV8jbQCapg_U2kqAfl9wUdNJJFXXt-yOOYPj8kWKjAtzxrlxlQs5CA7w2m3SdZZ3GciSm/s1600-h/6a00d8341e131a53ef010534baad3b970c-800wi.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglukq3QKB8lfQyBPfqYzVUarEoRfiAblDAxxBCR9DNpPVE6t6MimxI_37pPg3zQmGH0NlRRsuaV8jbQCapg_U2kqAfl9wUdNJJFXXt-yOOYPj8kWKjAtzxrlxlQs5CA7w2m3SdZZ3GciSm/s400/6a00d8341e131a53ef010534baad3b970c-800wi.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248565874260594194" border="0" /></a><a href="http://abritandabit.typepad.com/spotted_dick_and_other_mu/2008/09/canon-camera-gi.html">Get your contest on!</a><br /></div>Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-13526049784963854182008-09-19T12:35:00.008-05:002008-09-19T15:34:31.312-05:00I blame Monster.com for thisSo this morning I woke up at 8am, showered, shaved my legs, put on make up and drove 22 miles both ways to go to a job interview that turned out to be FRAUDULENT.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ZhPluujjxVlKe0oNZO69ffyPHSjXxsy7nPVStBCNTATjbLVG2Kw3SkY-JA-FcEM7LeIMSWMR9t0xyk116UdXm63g5-Cf8sZi3WuJyWkz0zRr_Ry1xntqeb2aweobJKdu8gxz8aoo9pzA/s1600-h/sello-wtf.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ZhPluujjxVlKe0oNZO69ffyPHSjXxsy7nPVStBCNTATjbLVG2Kw3SkY-JA-FcEM7LeIMSWMR9t0xyk116UdXm63g5-Cf8sZi3WuJyWkz0zRr_Ry1xntqeb2aweobJKdu8gxz8aoo9pzA/s400/sello-wtf.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247788502710856098" border="0" /></a>I haven't had a whole lot of free time lately, but when I can I spend as much time as possible sending my resume all over town. I swear I've sent an email out to every business, shop, corporation and agency in town - short of oil companies, that is. I know you may be surprised to find out, but I do have morals! And since Houston is an oil town I am severely limiting my options, but I'd rather be poor than supporting environment killers. How could I take that blood money, anyway? All I could see when I put on a new pair of shoes would be a sad, baby seal face splotched in oil looking up at me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi95R0vE5tn6ZKS5UxzlGvIfhjIjoPzsedAJNPS82-IRqHg-0QVae5pM_FHhTqg9Ti2HxFpDDXjLjVOWFtou1SziDhIZz-t8Lk5zQ421j0DCrkg_vLCsm-LUqnksow3cp4Chyphenhyphen3qlapxYtNK/s1600-h/baby+seal.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi95R0vE5tn6ZKS5UxzlGvIfhjIjoPzsedAJNPS82-IRqHg-0QVae5pM_FHhTqg9Ti2HxFpDDXjLjVOWFtou1SziDhIZz-t8Lk5zQ421j0DCrkg_vLCsm-LUqnksow3cp4Chyphenhyphen3qlapxYtNK/s400/baby+seal.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247791578105451410" border="0" /></a><br /><br />But I digress.<br /><br />I arrived this morning for my interview at five minutes before 10am. I put my name on the sign in sheet, and noticed that, what? 5 other people are also here at 10am to meet with the same person I have an appointment with. And then I thought, "Oh shit, probably not a good sign", but set to work filling out some preliminary paperwork anyway. After a short wait, I was called into an office where I was sat down face to face with the douchiest looking 19 year old <span style="font-style: italic;">child</span> with bleach blond spiky hair and a smug smirk on his lips. He proceeds to tell me that the position I've driven 22 miles both ways to interview for has already been filled, but how do I feel about selling <a href="http://www.consumeraffairs.com/in_home/kirby.htm">Kirby vacuums</a> door to door?<br /><br />OH. HELL. NO.<br /><br />It was then that I turned into a crazy woman. I could NOT believe that me, at the age of 25, was tricked into driving across the city and then had to sit in front of this smarmy little punk ass with a smirk on his face, being offered to sell the DEVIL'S VACUUMS door to fucking door! I stood, and told him he was wasting my time and I didn't appreciate being led into a false application process, and has he seen the price of gas these days? After threatening to report him to the BBB, I then proceeded to the reception room, where I clarified the situation for the rest of the poor souls, and stormed out of the office with a satisfying slam of the door. All of this was done with a shrill kind of screeching voice and a pointed finger. I'm not exactly sure what happened...I think I might have been possessed or something.<br /><br />I do not want to sell vacuums. Or Mary Kay. Or be in a pyramid scheme. People, all I want is a normal 8-5 position where I do my job, and go home to my real life. Is that too damn much to ask?!!Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3284213130833838162.post-43703214934805969562008-09-18T10:46:00.005-05:002008-09-18T11:52:25.671-05:00Two awards and a magic boxWell would you look at this:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnFXc6AfrVTu3LJbD7CHviJcZH4zpXFSKKwEMW3w8Fz_3Bj_HTsw8tuyzK_EbksYJ2aPlNBc_fSgg9PCVfmvYMDQwO7Nnm_hZtUqK-EC9wNy8cLg44ep6_aBEEo6iz7-fZxqEIt2HsYmFy/s1600-h/green+badgeaward.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnFXc6AfrVTu3LJbD7CHviJcZH4zpXFSKKwEMW3w8Fz_3Bj_HTsw8tuyzK_EbksYJ2aPlNBc_fSgg9PCVfmvYMDQwO7Nnm_hZtUqK-EC9wNy8cLg44ep6_aBEEo6iz7-fZxqEIt2HsYmFy/s400/green+badgeaward.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247390675632768786" border="0" /></a><br />The lovely and hilarious <a href="http://ettarose-edgeofsanity.blogspot.com/">Ettarose</a> gave me this award! Can you believe it?! Let me educate you a little bit on this particular award - it originated from Etta herself, and she created this award, to quote, " because words sometimes are not enough to show how much our blogger friends mean to us". So this award is like, extra special and important and did I mention that SHE gave it to little ole ME?!! SO flattered. If you are not reading her blog then you must be living under a rock or something. EVERYONE reads <a href="http://ettarose-edgeofsanity.blogspot.com/">Edge of Sanity</a>. Get with the program! Damn! Don't you want to be one of the cool kids?<br /><br />Anyway, I want to pass this one on to my girl Petra, over at the <a href="http://thewiseyoungmommy.blogspot.com/">Wise, (*Young*) Mommy</a>. Petra was one of the first to become a regular commenter here, and she is totally sweet and non judgmental, and if we lived closer together I'm sure we'd start a Friday night "knitting club" which would really just be a front for drinking wine and bitching about kids and our insane neuroses or something. She's also up for one of the <a href="http://www.momdot.com/?p=1572">Dottie Awards</a> over at <a href="http://www.momdot.com/">Momdot.com</a>, so go <a href="http://www.momdot.com/?p=1572">vote for her</a>! What are friends for if not to pimp each other out?<br /><br />Speaking of Petra, she gave me the BFF Goldcard Award a few days ago:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIZMm7SOUyW2PkDMVNLuBKMuetrIaxyh0fMWxpElIszpBKNzK313S8FzPpaGZMH8s5ounKylMQ-aBHQhewpp1sZ_ZhbREFeNkIZfzkwwkS6CsJi6NBWPpuQ0EhHSQrOaXK-w5y8ABjN_dC/s1600-h/goldcard-award.thumbnail.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIZMm7SOUyW2PkDMVNLuBKMuetrIaxyh0fMWxpElIszpBKNzK313S8FzPpaGZMH8s5ounKylMQ-aBHQhewpp1sZ_ZhbREFeNkIZfzkwwkS6CsJi6NBWPpuQ0EhHSQrOaXK-w5y8ABjN_dC/s400/goldcard-award.thumbnail.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247398981317436034" border="0" /></a>Which is awesome, except its not real and I cant spend it. THANKS PETRA! I kid, I kid, seriously, you CAN spend it, just in a different way. Like on fantasies and stuff. I bet you didn't know you needed a virtual visa to fantasize about buying <a href="http://theshoedish.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/04/fuchsia-sandals-from-manolo-blahnik.jpg">blahniks</a>, huh? Yep! Thats what its coming to these days. Blame the government. I'll give this one away sometime in the near future.<br /><br />And I'm sure you guys may have seen this around the blogosphere the past few days:<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" id="blackBoxesBlogWidget" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=9,0,0,0" width="176" align="middle" height="250"><br /><param value="always" name="allowScriptAccess"><br /><param value="false" name="allowFullScreen"><br /><param value="http://www.newloop-clients.co.uk/blog/bb_widget.swf" name="movie"><param value="high" name="quality"><param value="#000000" name="bgcolor"> <embed pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" quality="high" allowscriptaccess="always" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://www.newloop-clients.co.uk/blog/bb_widget.swf" bgcolor="#000000" allowfullscreen="false" name="blackBoxesBlogWidget" width="176" align="middle" height="250"></embed><br /></object></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><br /></span><br />Click on the magical black box and see where it takes you! Who did you guys get?Athenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857388739858090445noreply@blogger.com7