This is the most I've posted in a week....I think. You're welcome.

I get that some of those posts shouldn't count because I didn't technically "write" in most of them. I posted pictures. I'm sorry if you feel cheated. That's what you get for trusting me in the first place. Everything seems fine and normal, and then BAM! Out of nowhere, posts with GIFs! I'm actually not sure if I should apologize or say you're welcome.

Anyway, I've decided to push through my writer's block and create a post regardless of it's quality. The following is the result. See the last sentence of the above paragraph.

This is a compilation of ideas that I jotted down, but never seemed like enough to carry their own post:

1) Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told the audience how the person died. Unless it was of natural causes. That shit is bor-ing! In fact, if I die of natural causes, I'm going to write in my will the fucking bizarre demise that I want my family to publish. Like, "She was riding a bear though the woods on Sunday, and they were suddenly and viciously attacked by rabid squirrels. She and the bear made quick work of the squirrels, but it was too late. The landshark had already smelled blood; it was upon them before they knew what was happening. She fought courageously with her bear by her side, but she ended up making the ultimate sacrifice. She threw herself into the jaws of the landshark so that her bear might escape and live a long and happy life."  I might even require them to create a Wikipedia page.

2) Things that make sense: a. When you heat something up, it becomes hot. b. When you freeze something, it's cold. c. The earth revolves around the sun. d. Google image results when searching "moths in cat food" that include cats, moths, cat food, Icanhascheezburger cats, and people petting cats. Things that don't make sense: a. Why the Kardashians are famous. b. Why dentists insist on asking you questions while their hands are in your mouth. c. Google image results when searcing "moths in cat food" that include cadaver prepping. Seriously...what the fuck, Google?? A bonus "This makes absolutely no fucking sense": Google is all up in my shit, trying to guess what I want to search for, but when I search for an image, it has no clue what I'm talking about. It's the internet for fuck sake...I know there's at least a hundred- nay!- a thousand pictures of people slapping themselves in the face. At least.

3) Earlier this year (or it might have been late last year), I stopped at the convenience store right by my apartment before I drove into work. There was a bit of a line, so I had time to browse the "shit I'll never buy" section that's right by the register. It's like the universe knew I was already having a crappy morning because my attention was directed to quite possibly the best convenience store item for sale. At the very last section, right above the floor was....a ski mask. A fucking ski mask, y'all! I started giggling partly because I was deliriously tired, but mainly because this was fucking awesome. I imagined the conversation that would go on at the register when someone bought this:

Clerk: "Is the ski mask going to be it for you?"
Cletus: "Yep."
Clerk: "....Um, sir, you can't put that on yet. You haven't paid for it yet."
Cletus: "Yeah, I know. Now give me all the money in the register, a carton on Marlboro Reds, ummm....this pack of gum, a Slim Jim...hold on, I'm gonna grab a 12-pack of Keystone...okay, I think that will do it. Oh, and one of those 'Red Hot & Blue 7's'." (side note: I did my research: the 'Red Hot & Blue 7's' only cost $1. Clearly this guy doesn't understand that if you're going to steal, you should steal something that costs more than a dollar)
Clerk: "....Are you serious? ::sigh:: Nevermind. No. By the by, dickmonger, the cops showed up about five minutes ago and are standing behind you."
Cletus: "Fuck...I did not see that coming."

4) Caffeine is awesome. And then it's not. Mainly when consumed in unhealthy quantities. And mainly because it gives me the type of high where I feel like I can take on the world, but not in the "Holy crap, I just sniffed a bunch of bath salts and am now going to eat everyone's face off, but I'm going to do it naked because I've got confidence! And I'm worth it!" kind of way. And then sends me crashing through the atmosphere, as I plummet not only back to earth, but into what feels like the very bowels of Hell. Okay, that might have been a little dramatic, but when it wears off, it does leave me with a Chicken Little complex. It's actually worse when combined with any form of ADHD medicine. I know this because one time I combined Adderall with 2 going on 3 economy-size Red Bulls. I was supposed to be writing a paper for my psychology class, but more often than not I caught myself in a staring contest with a squirrel in the front yard. It was pretty intense. In hind sight, maybe he got into the Adderall too. During the last stand off, I noticed the effects of the Red Bull/Adderall cocktail were beginning to wear off, and an irrational depression and feeling of impending doom descending upon me. It was awesome. And by awesome I mean that I wanted to stab myself in the eye, but didn't trust myself to hold a stabby instrument steady. There is nothing worse than wanting to stab yourself in the face and not being able to because you've got the shakes. Nothing. Except maybe the Twilight series. That's pretty fucking terrible.

5) Sometime at the end of last year (I think...I'm really bad with time), I was driving to work and saw a billboard for one of our local Top 40 stations morning shows. It had a picture of the DJ, leaning back with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. You could smell the desperation in his "please-tell-me-how-cool-I-am-and-that-I'm-totally-still-relevant" pose. He was not cool, and he was not relevant. Like at all. To make matters worse the billboard seemed to be screaming its message out to the commuters: "GET YOUR KIDD FIX!!" Look, I get that his on-air name is Kidd Kraddick, and that it's just a play on his name, but me thinks you should have thought that one through a little bit. The only people looking to get their "KIDD FIX" are morally bankrupt priests, general pedophiles, and Jerry Sandusky, and they can all go choke on a big one. Attached to a guy named Bubba. In prison. Anyway...seriously? How in the fuck did that make it to the billboard?? What other completely horrifying slogans were tossed out?  "Let Kidd touch you in the morning!", "Double the pleasure, double the Kidd!", "Kidd really satisfies!". See? They're all fucked up and have no place on a billboard. Unless it's an anti-pedobear billboard with a picture of a pedophile, standing behind bars,  looking mighty uncomfortable, and Bubba, standing off to the side, with a satisfied smile on his tattooed face.

Okay, I have to make phone calls now, so I will bid thee adieu. Until next time, y'all!

I know it's a cop-out, and I don't even care.

Just like last time, I'm creating a super lazy post. I was going to write a legitimate update, but everyone in my office seems hell bent on annoying the ever living shit out of me today. So it's time for me to say "Fuck everything; I'm going to create a bullshit blog post full of GIFs. Also, please stop having your extremely loud and incredibly pointless conversations right behind my desk and go fuck yourselves. Thaaaaanks!"


When I'm hungover: 

When I'm talking to people I don't know very well:

My friends and I having a conversation:

             

When I'm forced to dress up:

 











When someone pulls out in front of me and then goes as sloooow as possible:

When I get home from work and being stuck in traffic for an hour:

When it's time to get up and go to work in the mornings:

How I feel when someone asks me to find something for them, that I've shown them how to find before:

When coworkers insist on having obnoxiously loud and trivial conversations right behind my desk:

When my boyfriend's coworker won't shut up:

When one of my coworkers butts in and answers a question that someone specifically asked me: 

Okay, I'm done for now. I feel a bit better...thank you for letting me GIF it out. You guys are the best!

This is what happens when most of the office is out

This isn't a "real" post...I mean, it exists because I'm typing it, and you're looking at it. It's kinda like a more lame version of Schrödinger's cat. I mean that it's not "real" in the sense that I'm not going to be using a lot of words. Starting.....now.

What I feel like doing at about 2:30 on a Friday:

When stupid people talk to me:

Walking through a dark room after watching a scary movie and thinking I heard something behind me:

What I'd like to do when my sister annoys me:

When I see someone I don't like, I'm like:

When I'm bored and feeling restless, I'm like:

When someone pisses me off:

When someone tried to steal one of my best friend's hat at a 311 concert:

When someone doesn't acknowledge my high five:

How I feel sometimes driving home from work:

To the creeper at the bar:

When something turns out better than I expected:

I'm feeling lazy, but still want to drink:

When I want two of my friends to stop fighting and make up:

When someone won't let me concentrate on what I'm doing and keeps interrupting me:

When someone gets into my bubble:

What I'd like to do when I leave the bar:

When I'm the only one who doesn't care:

When one of my friends is about to do something really stupid and looks at me for approval:

When I'm hyper, and Jared's trying to watch tv/read:

When someone doesn't laugh at my joke:

How my face looks vs. how I'm actually feeling:

VS








Okay, I'm done for now. FYI, I did get this idea from #whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com. You should check her out; it's pretty funny.

It's even BETTER than a kick in the nuts!!

 There is a place in Houston called Saint Dane’s Bar & Grill. I’ve never been there, but Jared and I happened across it while we were looking at houses. I’ll admit, it looked like a pretty decent bar, and it was in an eclectic part of town that made me think a little bit of Austin. I glanced at the bar, pointed it out to Jared, and was about to move on with my day. As I commented on how it was a cute little corner bar, I glanced back at it to confirm that I agreed with myself. That’s when I noticed the sign.

“IT'S BETTER THAN A KICK IN THE NUTS”


You might be asking yourself, much as we did, “The fuck???”

Jared and I both agreed that they were setting the bar really, really low. I pointed out that that was actually pretty smart marketing because if anyone ever complained, the staff could say, “Hey, we didn’t say this place was amazing; we just said it was better than a kick in the nuts. It’s not our fault you disregarded the sign and waltzed in here with your high expectations” or (with an infuriatingly idiotic grin on their face) “The drinks are disgusting and the bar is filthy, you say? Well, it could certainly worse…in fact, it’s better than a kick in the nuts!!” at which point, the complaining party would then set the staff member on fire and exclaim, “It’s better than a kick in the nuts, motherfucker!!”

We laughed at that scenario for a minute, but then I got quiet as a much more disturbing thought crept into my head.


Me: “What if getting kicked in the nuts is supposed to be a good thing?”

Jared: *blink*“…..uh….what?”


Me: “What if they’re into S&M, Fifty Shades of Grey, and red rooms of pain? What if they like being kicked in the nuts? I bet they think that that’s actually a selling point, ‘Come have a blast at Saint Dane’s Bar & Grill…it’s even BETTER than a kick in the NUTS!!’”

Jared, glancing over at me, probably making sure I wasn’t about to stroke out: “Yeah, that’s possible too…”

Me: “And if that’s the case, I know where I’m not going! To the bar that’s run by people who enjoy being kicked in the nuts…the fuck is that about?? I don’t want to be kicked in the nuts. And I don’t even have nuts. Clearly they have questionable morals.”

Jared: “Yeah, that’s completely fucked up…”

 I stand corrected. The amusement level of racking someone is completely relative. Kind of like hitting your funny bone.   X, like, 1,000,000,000.

As I was writing all of this down, I thought of another situation regarding the sign. What if the sign wasn’t referring to the bar at all? Maybe they were trying to put things into perspective for all of us that happened by their sign. “You lost a leg in a fight with a hobo? Man, that sucks…but hey,, it’s better than a kick in the nuts.”

Actually now that I think about it, I don't think that works. Forget I suggested it.


Here is a list of reasons as to why I'm probably going to steer clear of Saint Dane’s:

1. They use “a kick in the nuts” as a unit in which to measure how awesome or not awesome their bar is. It’s all very confusing and disturbing.
2. They don’t know their maths. I’m not going to trust a “bar & grill” that doesn’t know how much a quarter is worth. 
3. Their bar is named after a dog breed that doesn’t exist. From their website: “First off, the name comes from a new breed. A Saint Bernard crossed with a Great Dane = Saint Dane's”. And they give absolutely no reason for this; it sounds like a drunken slip of the tongue. Also, I don't like their attitude.

Either they're really bad at math or they're really bad at the English language. Either way, it's not helping their image. Although the Mango Habanero sounds delicious. Don't judge me.

 Side note: Thanks to Sarah for piquing my interest enough that I broke down and read the plot summary of Fifty Shades of Grey. After reading it, I decided two things: 1) I'm never fucking reading that book. It sounds like Twilight for adults, and I've heard some of the bizarre and, to be honest, fucking disgusting things that they've said in reference to how to the book makes them feel; and- actually side note to the guys: Stop reading. Seriously. Stop. I know you're still there....Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you- 2) I've decided that during my period, I'm going to refer to my uterus as the "Red Room of Pain".

By the way, here's the plot summary for those of you who didn't immediately jump on over to good ol' Wikipedia:

The plot traces the relationship between recent college graduate Anastasia Steele and manipulative billionaire Christian Grey. Steele is required by Grey to sign a contract allowing him complete control over her life. As she gets to know him she learns that his sexual tastes involve bondage, domination and sadism, and that childhood abuse left him a deeply damaged individual. In order to be his partner she agrees to experiment with BDSM, but struggles to reconcile who she is (a virgin who has never previously had a boyfriend) with who Christian wants her to be: his submissive to do with as he pleases in his “Red Room of Pain.”

....yeah....And this is a bestseller, y'all. I've lost almost all faith in humanity. I might post sometime this weekend as to why I haven't lost complete faith. Yet.

THE RED ROOM OF PAIN!!! Also? Don't do an image search for 'Uterus". Just...don't. Trust me.

And then I met a weasel wearing an apron.

They were nice enough to post an arrow to direct me where to sit. It's totally legit. You can see it's shadow on the wall.

I just came across this picture from Jenny Lawson's book signing at the Blue Willow Bookshop in the Memorial area. I was not playing around...I got there super early and made sure I was right up front. Mission: Accomplished. I was hoping to get a picture with her, but Jenny, or her assistant, or Jenny's husband, Victor, forgot that she had a flight at 9 pm (to be honest, it was probably Victor) so they rushed us through the line. I did however get her to sign my book and the bookmark that I made while I was
waiting.

This is Juanita...well a bookmark version of her. The real her is pictured below.

Property of thebloggess.com and Jenny Lawson. I don't want her sending her army of taxidermied animals to eat my face and/or haunt my dreams.

It speaks and writes correctly or else it gets the hose again...

Seriously…what has happened to us? No one can be bothered to speak and spell correctly anymore. I wasn’t aware there was an ‘F’ in ‘birthday’ and ‘mouth’….and ‘teeth’. Oh wait, that’s right…because there isn’t!! And did you see what I did there? I used the correct “there/their/they’re”. It’s really not that hard, I promise. I know you think your brain is going to explode because you’re not used to using the sophisticated rules of the English language properly (or at all, for that matter), but I assure you, your empty brain is in no danger of suddenly bursting into flames. Actually, it’s quite the opposite; if you start speaking and writing correctly I probably won’t set you on fire. I say probably only because honestly, you’ve already done a lot of damage. So much so that I might not be able to stop myself.

That or I'll send him to your job to dance around you like this all day...Don't look at me like that; you do it to yourself.

Like I've said in the past, I’m no longer claiming the status of grammar Nazi because it’s too much pressure. I know this may come as a shock to many of you, but I make mistakes too. I will occasionally ‘eff up’, and I don’t want all 5 of you demanding that the streets run red with my blood. Because to be honest, I don’t have enough blood for that. It’s like you guys don’t even know how the human body works. Really, I’m looking out for you guys; I don’t want y’all to get bent out of shape because y’all were planning on flooding the streets with my copious amounts of blood, and only end up with enough for a comparatively tiny stream of blood. If anything, you guys should be thanking me.

You’re welcome.

Anyway, that’s not the point. My point was that we all make mistakes. We are educated in the ways of the English language and use it freely. Good for us! We also mess up sometimes when we’re flustered or in a rush. It happens. This post is not for those people. This post is for the people who talk like they have a goddamn mouth full of mush, and for the people who type lyk dis XD!!!!!!!!! <3333333

….I don’t think you even realize how close you come to me setting you on fire. Especially the people that I know personally. The fuck, y’all??

Every time I see someone type some stupid-ass bullshit like this:

"Hey sis how u an lil man doin????? Me an tha babies doin fine i ask them who u was they said thats TT *** smh dey dont forget nobody we miss yall an also we enjoyed yall when yall was down here hope to see yall soon!!!!"

I want to put my fist through my computer. What the….fuck w-…was that even English??

Say 'birfday' again. Say 'birfday' again, I dare you, I double dare you motherfucker, say 'birfday' one more Goddamn time!

And somehow I'm Samuel L. Jackson again for this story. This shouldn't surprise anyone.

Missing: My motivation

Bad news, y’all…I lost my motivation. Like, I can’t find it anywhere. I’ve even looked in the freezer because the freezer is kind of like Narnia. You never know what you might find in there. Holy crap, I totally figured out where the entrance to Narnia is in my apartment. Actually I have two: the freezer (obviously) and the dryer. I would say I probably have an entrance in my closet as well, but my closets are tiny and Narnia wouldn’t fit….yet somehow my freezer and dryer are able to hold Narnia within them. Interesting.

I don’t know how Narnia works.

Related note: I think Mary Poppin’s purse (or would it be Poppins’? Apparently I don’t know how fictional characters’ names work either) also contains Narnia within it. And it’s infinitely smaller than my tiny, hobbit-sized closets. And it’s portable. Two things:

1)Why the fuck does she get magical powers AND a portable Narnia?? Because she’s played by Julie Andrews, and clearly Jules sold her soul to the devil. What a bitch. The hills are alive with the sound of music. And the screams of the innocent.

2)The smaller the object, the more likely you are to find Narnia. So ladies, when gift giving time comes around, don’t be upset with your guy because that tiny jewelry box contains earrings and not a ring. Get upset because it contains earrings and not Narnia. Scratch that…get upset because the tiny box doesn’t contain earrings AND Narnia.

….I clearly don’t know how Narnia works. Or Mary Poppins. Or Julie Andrews. Or freezers. Or closets. Or dryers. Or gift giving.

Seriously y'all...how have I made it this far in life? 

This is probably where the moths come from too. Narnia moths are the worst.