Wednesday, December 30, 2015

Blog Post #101 : It's a big deal, ok?!

Aww MAN! I totally didn't even notice that my last post was my 100th blog post! Woohoo! Since I didn't post anything spectacular for my 100th post, because I didn't know about it, I felt like I needed to post something spectacular for this one, my 101st blog post. But I have no idea of what this spectacular thing will be. So I need to Google it or something.

******Post Google search*****

Ok. So it looks like everyone posts about what they have learned or how they have grown . I can do that....

What I've Learned in 101 Blog Posts

By Me

In the last 42 months I have learned a lot, not just about myself but also about my readers. I know I have about 35 or so loyal readers. I can't tell who is reading it but I have a good idea from the likes I get on Facebook when I post. So thank you, dear reader. Because of you, I keep writing this crap, whether people enjoy it or not. And as long as you continue to click on my links, I will continue to write it. We are a team and teamwork makes the dream work!

 I also know which posts have the highest number of hits, excluding my super clicked Pinterest angel wing post. And I would like to share these post with you now.

Church Camp -  About the time I went to church camp and things turned quickly inappropriate.

Transformation Tuesday - That time when I was really overly emotional & felt like people were judging unfairly so I wrote a post about the time it felt like my life was falling apart, I didn't care about anything, gained a bunch of weight and then lost it. Because, you know, it made sense at the time to give people more shit to judge me on.

What I learned at my 10 year high school reunion - When I felt all shitty about it, but then I felt better about it and then I found out pretty much everyone feels the same way! Magic!

Insignificant yet life altering traumas: Life Lessons - Inappropriate talk about body holes. 

Post Electolyptic Post -Politics and that time I was kidnapped by the government

New Year's Eve-hab - When I got drunk and had to go home before midnight and tried blaming it on a fake friend I called Coco.

Kitten Tales - The time I caught a feral kitten that turned out to be Satan incarnate

Yay! My Birthday Week! -  Pretty sure this is the link all those weird Russian IP addresses are hitting. Featuring me in old lady swimwear.

And the post that started it all, House Bunny: Not as Awesome as it Sounds

So there it is, whatever it is. It's been a good time. I've enjoyed it, hope you've enjoyed it. If I die, someone please be sure to read all of my posts out loud, with the cuss words intact and sound effects, at the funeral. I want to be remembered for who I really, truly was. Pure trash.

Monday, December 21, 2015

Ridiculous Christmas Gifts

Every year you see those commercials with the new cars & the big bows on top. I've always thought to myself, "Who the fuck does that? How do you just go out and buy a vehicle for someone?" Not only is it over the top but it seems really irresponsible too, which is why I did it. And here's how!

Now our old Impala, Vlad the Impaler, is an excellent work car. Besides the fact that only one the the window shield wipers worked and it smelled a little like gas, on the inside and the air conditioner had to be fixed a couple times, Vlad was alright.

Now for some backstory: When we went to go get a new vehicle for me, which was going to be a car, I decided it the ones we looked at were a little claustrophobic for me and I wanted more room for my independent critter control bidness activities, so I went with another SUV instead. What I didn't know was Husband had a plan in the back of his mind: I'd get a new car and then we would look at some used trucks for him. He never mentioned this, so of course I was all, "YEAH! NEW SUV! WITH ALL THE STUFF! AMBIENT LIGHTING! I'M A BALLLLLLAAAA. WHOOOPP!"

So what had happened was, we got me the fully loaded SUV with a payment that could easily cover the cost of both a new car and a used truck. Once again, this plan was not expressed to me until a few months later otherwise I would have taken the car and truck combo. Because I'm an asshole but not that big of an asshole.

And as you can tell, he puts my wants before his needs. So even though he had been actually looking for a used truck for a few months, I knew he would have put it off until Vlad started on fire or completely fell apart. He thinks things through, I force things until he gives in get shit done. It's our thing.

Then one Sunday, I'm driving home from the store and I go through a local car lot. Now finding a smallish truck is hard to do around here, they always seem to sell quickly, so I was super pumped when I saw they had a Chevy Colorado sitting out with a pretty low price tag. Being a rational person, I say nothing to Rob, set my alarm, get up early on Monday, walk into the dealership like a boss and say. "I wanna buy that truck for my husband! For Christmas! How do people do that?" The sales guy was like, "Uhh.. I don't know. Let me get my manager." And I'm like "ALRIGHT!" So he goes to get the manager and I start realizing I may have made a horrible mistake.

When the manager came out, we recognized each other as old classmates, we were all "Hey!" Not really essential to this story but it was neat. I felt super fucking grown up and cool.
So I look at the two guys and I say, "So I just thought this through, is this a mistake? Am I being ridiculous?" And they are like, "Yeah. Kind of. You should probably test drive it first..." Then I said, "Ok. Better idea, what if I test drive it to his work and just tell him I already bought it and if he is like, "WHAT THE HELL. WHY?!" I'll be all JK JK!" We all agreed that was the best plan.

The salesman was like, "Yo boss, do I let this crazy bitch just drive off with one of our vehicles with no adult supervision?" and old classmate was like, "Duhyeah! Give her one of those big bows too! CHRISTMAS!" So I drove the truck to his work, put the big bow on it and told him to come out.

"Surprise! I bought you this truck! Merry Christmas!"
"What?! What the bought it?"
"Well..errr..not all the way but if you want it you can have it! Do you want it?!"  Husband was obviously surprised and a little overwhelmed being forced to make a decision like that on a Monday morning. After a short test drive with an awful lot of muttered, "You're crazy"s and some deliberating he decided to give in to my heart felt plan and take the truck. After a few signatures, BOOM, done, Christmas truck.

So basically for Christmas, I gave my husband a truck payment. The gift that keeps on giving.

Wednesday, December 16, 2015

Let's be reasonable about this...

Once upon a time I was talking to my sister on the phone about nothing in particular, when I could hear my 7 year old niece scream something in the background to which my sister replied, "No one is sneaking in and cutting your underwear..." My niece had been putting on her pajamas and found a pair of her underwear that the elastic had worn out of and naturally assumed someone had broken into their house and cut her underwear.

She sounded crazy until I really thought about it. It probably didn't happen but it's completely possible. I mean weirder things have happened, right? What I didn't know was apparently when children have major freak outs about little things like this, you should not reply with, "That isn't what happened in this instance but I mean, it could happen. Chances are it's never going to happen to you but it's not outside the realm of possibility that someone could break into your house and cut your underwear." And definitely don't bring up examples like, "I swear one time I read about this guy getting sick and they later discovered someone had been sneaking into his house at night and putting arsenic, it's a type of poison, in his orange juice. It was slowly killing him. I don't think he died though. It might not have even really happened...but it could have."

This is exactly how I managed to piss a lawyer off so bad during jury selection that I was cut in the first round. "If you were shown evidence during a trial of a shoe print, of the exact brand and size of shoe as the suspect, in the victims yard...blah blah blah...would you find the defendant guilty?" "........No?" "Why not?"  "Because anyone could wear that exact shoe and exact size..." "What if the suspect had mud on the bottom of their shoe?" "" "What if there was a witness?" "....still no.." "So if all the evidence in the world pointed to the suspect and there was a witness and it was caught on camera and you were also there yourself, you still wouldn't find them guilty beyond a reasonable doubt?!"  To which I slammed my hand down, stood up and yelled, "NO! FOR I AM NOT A REASONABLE PERSON! THIS ENTIRE JUSTICE SYSTEM IS A GOVERNMENT CONSPIRACY TO DISTRACT US FROM THE TRUTH.  REPTILIAN HUMANOIDS ARE RUNNING THE WORLD AND VACCINATING US WITH MIND CONTROL SUBSTANCES."

At which point I was removed from the courtroom and taken to an undisclosed location for reprogramming by the evil lizard overlords. Which totally worked, I swear, I don't remember a thing. I'm especially not suspicious due to my always freezing cold extremities, constant urge to bask under heat lamps and inability to love.

So next time instead of lying to your child and telling them someone's not going to sneak into your house and cut their underwear, tell them the truth and also encourage them, "It doesn't look to me like someone snuck into our house and cut your underwear but that could happen, so always be alert. And with enough training from our reptilian overlords and you work really, really hard, you could be the person who sneaks in and cuts peoples underwear! Or even better, be the head of the reptilian humanoid breeding program! The possibilities are endless little one, I believe in you!"

man...I'm going to be the best fucking parent.

Tuesday, December 1, 2015

Crapting: Crafts for Regular People

I need more crafts tutorials up on here, which I have always kind of planned on doing, I just never get around to it. Or more truthfully, though my stuff looks good from a distance, when you look up close it's not exactly...well made, I guess? Some things turn out really cool, other things are more of a beauty in the eye of the beholder thing. 

So for my first installment of "Crapting: Crafts for Regular People," we will take a look at some of my paintings!
Acrylic on canvas
I do really like these ones and they were super simple to make. Just take a picture of your critter, print it out to whatever size you'd like the silhouette to be, trace around it, paint the background whatever you want and the silhouette whatever you want. I used acrylic paint because I don't understand how to use watercolor but really any paint would work. You can add patterns to where ever, decoupage flowers or some shit. Go crazy. It's your life. I also attempted to have each dog's paw print on there too. As you can see, the prints are a little sketchy thanks to all their paw fur and also because I was basically fingerprinting dogs. I did not take a picture of the white paint paw prints that were tracked through the house but I assure you, that shit was everywhere.

Acrylic on canvas
Ahh yes. My masterpiece. I painted this for my mom for Christmas one year. We went on a local "Yule Walk", basically you go to places around town that are all decorated for Christmas. My inspiration came from two things that evening. #1. The last stop we went to was the art museum and there was a picture of a figure in this shape in one of the paintings and we were like, "Whhhhhaaa." #2. It was super cold and my mom bundled herself up so much she looked strikingly like the guy from the painting while we walked around outside. So bada-bing bada-boom, added a wreath, threw in some familiar details from that night and made it amazing. Ta-da! Perfect gift!

Turns out I can't really think of any other paintings I've done besides random things at work. Pumpkins, windows, cardboard stand-ups. I'm alright but I'm definitely not great. I don't know how to do all the cool shading and texturing and shadowing. I'm sure if I actually tried to learn more or improve my technique I would be alright but like everything else in life, I completely lack the motivation to do that.

I guess if I had to pass along some advice it would be buy yourself some nice paintbrushes or ask someone to buy you nice brushes as a present. Nothing sucks more than trying to paint and having bristles come off onto your painting. And take care of them, don't let them get all shitty. Also if you shop at Hobby Lobby they tend to have some nice sales on canvas and nothing screams artist like painting with nice brushes on a canvas. So canvas, quality paintbrushes and a nice Van Dyke Brown, before you know it, you'll be arting all over the place.

Tuesday, November 17, 2015

OOOHH Dreeaamweeaver, I believe you can get me through the niii-IIGHT

Dreams are crazy. I don't feel like we can be blamed for what happens in our dreams, technically it's our dreamselves. I'm not just saying that due to the inappropriate dream I had last night or even from my early morning, groggy Facebook search of a featured player from my dream last night to which I thought to myself, " are really good looking..." which I then winked at myself and fell back asleep for a couple hours. But I will admit I started to feel a little bit guilty for my dreamactions between the 4th and 5th hit of the snooze button, that's usually about the time I gain some lucidity in the mornings.

On the one hand, dreamRachel should be allowed to do whatever she wants. I don't feel like our dreamselves should be held to any moral standard. We should be fully supportive of our dreamselves because they are basically us, just slightly blurrier. "Get it girl. You look real cute and there are no rules in dreamland."
On the other hand, in this specific instance, dreamRachel had to sit through several minutes of dreamSister yelling at me and calling me a whore. Which seems a little harsh considering I didn't even get past some light groping before we were rudely interrupted. Plus by the time this all happened dude was like, "Uhh....I'm going to go..." Which you can't really stop them at that point because then it's desperate and sad and weird so I was just like, "UGH. Fine. Bye. Maybe I'll see you later back on that beach outside with that angry restaurant owner in the cabana selling seashells. I guess."

So how can I feel bad about almost getting dreamlaid when I barely even got a foot on third base? I mean, my brain sent in my sister to break it up. If I wasn't such a stand up person, I'd almost argue that I should get at least a free pass for a hardcore make-out sesh in real life to make up for the fact that I'm constantly cock-blocking myself in my dreams. But that wouldn't be right...unless my husband would be ok with that...not saying I would but I mean, I guess if he was like, "Yeah, go for it" it would be rude to not do it, probably.

Anyways, my point is, we really can't be held responsible for what we do in our dreams, whether it be flying or heavy petting or street fighting but not being able to do any damage with our punches. So dream on little dreamers, embrace those few moments of pure, unadulterated freedom each night where you can do whatever you want and never have to worry about the repercussions. It's just a dream, unless you are awake, then that is real life and there are consequences.

Monday, November 16, 2015

Littlest Pet Shop of Horrors

Do you ever wondering if people who are really annoying realize just how incredibly annoying they are? We do.

We have this little pet/gardening supplies store in our town that I frequent to buy the house bun bun his pellets. He was about out so when I was off work last week I stopped by to pick some more up. Apparently they had just gotten a shipment of new fish in and they were getting everyone floated in their tanks and what not. I walk in, one of the guys greets me, asks if I need anything, I tell him no, just picking up some food and taking a look around. The other employees are clearly busy trying to put stuff away, the guy that greeted me goes into his office and answers the phone. So of course I start poking all the bunnies and taking to myself, "OOOOO SATINS! I wanna love you. Get in my purse, no one has to know.." "OOOOOO DUMBO RATS! Deeeguuuuuuuu" "OOOOO A GREEN-CHEEKED CONTURE! BIRDS."

I make my way over to the reptile area and I'm looking in all the cages, one of the employees sees me looking at a new snake and says, "We just got that guy in, he is a really cool green color." and I'm like "IS IT A GREEN VINE SNAKE?!" "Umm..not sure. He eats crickets though." "COOL. ARE THERE MORE GECKOS UNDER THAT HIDE?" "Uh yeah." He lifts up the log and I said, "COOL MORPHS! WOW! LOOK AT THAT BIG ONE! BLIZZARD MORPH?! COOL." Then he asks, "Do you want a gecko?" "YEAH. But I'm not allowed one -_-"

So I continued to walk around asking hypothetical questions and pointing out the different reptiles, "OOO ANOLES...OOO BEARDIE...OOO CRESTED!" Then I go back to check on the fish tanks, literally barreling through their boxes because I'm basically an unsupervised child at this point. "YOU GOT IN SOME PUFFERS! FIGURE EIGHT PUFFERS!! SPOTTEDS TOO!!!COOL." Then the very patient employee says, "Oh come here, you'll like these guys.." and walks me over to another tank with some Indian Dwarf puffers in it. "AWWWW. THEY ARE SO CUTE! IS THIS BRACKISH?! IS IT FRESH?! HEY YOU GOT ANOTHER SIDENECK TURTLE! WHAT KIND OF CAT (catfish) IS THIS?! red tail? I LOVE REDTAILS! THEY ARE MY FAVORITE SPECIES OF CATFISH!" Side Note* Red-tailed catfish get huge and should not really be sold as a hobby fish in a pet store.

I knew I was getting super annoying but I didn't care because animals. Finally, I went and checked out and they were happy to see me go. Also for the record, I am usually very against stores selling pets, especially rabbits, but this one is pretty good as far as care goes. I used to go in all the time and yell at them about whoever they bought bunnies from weaning the babies too quickly but I noticed they are doing a lot better about it. Yes, I'm that crazy lady. My husband refuses to go in the store with me anymore because of my behavior.

Thursday, November 5, 2015

I'm Just A Teenage Dirtbag, Baby

When I was a teenager, I was an asshole.

"Oh you, everyone is an asshole when they are younger." No, I mean I was a huge, f-ing asshole. For literally no reason except for the fact I could be an asshole. I would get ridiculously mad over little things, like my mom asking me to do something like do the dishes. Sometimes I wouldn't even need a reason, I was just mad..and sad..and every single other emotion all at the same time. It was a hurricane of teen angst. Even now, when I look back on it, I can't think of a single thing I could say to teen me that would have made me calm the shit down. And frankly I can't think of a single thing teen me could say to adult me that would prevent adult me from beating teen me's ass. If I could go back in time, walk up and just sucker punch teenage me, I would do it in a heartbeat. I wouldn't even care if I ended up in jail, which would be bullshit anyways, beating the crap out of your younger self after all the effort time travel takes shouldn't be against the law in any timeline.

I can picture that interaction.
Adult me- "Hey asshole. *sucker punch*"
Teen me- "You f-ing bitch, what the hell?!"
*Struggle, struggle, struggle..fist fight...I sit on teen me*
Adult me- "Listen up you little fucker, I'm you from the future. You need to knock this 'I think I'm a badass' shit off right now or so help me God I will ruin your life."
Teen me- "Well I've got a real smart mouth and act like I have my period 24/7 and I hate everything."
Adult me- "Yeah, and I came all the way back in time to slap you in that smart mouth of yours, you little emo piece of shit. What the hell is wrong with you? Because I try to think back to what was so bad in our life that you felt the need to constantly be a dick and I can't figure it out. Honestly, I don't even care, just knock it off."
Teen me- "Well I'm not EVER going to stop being a smart ass. You can't tell me what to do anyways. You don't even technically exist yet. Plus you look like you have your shit together. I mean you managed to care enough to find a time machine and come back here to teach me a lesson. Do we end up in prison? Why you gotta be all up in my business?"
Adult me- "Uh, well, no.. no we don't end up in prison. I mean, like life is pretty good. We have a good job, a great family, a house, nice car.. there is this thing called Amazon Prime that we order whatever the hell we want and get it in like two days. Our husband doesn't even care that we spent like $30 in juggling paraphernalia last month..."
Teen me- "Then why the hell are you here? If shit worked out so well, why are you sitting on me?........Oh fuck.. are..are we dying? ARE WE FUCKING DYING?! Oh God, what is it? Are you addicted to prescription pills or something? WHAT DID YOU DO, FUTURE ME?!"
Adult me- "Jesus spaz, calm down. We aren't fucking dying. I dunno, I guess I just don't like you that much. I mean, not that I didn't learn anything. You are going to do a lot of stupid shit but we'll learn some valuable life lessons from it. I guess just tone it down a little. At least be nicer to our family. Stop being such a dick to Mom, help out around the house a little. Do some homework once in awhile. Don't take anything for granted and talk to your great grandmother more."
Teen me- "Ok! Whatever! Now leave me alone I'm going to go listen to Blink 182, circle things I want in my Delia*s catalog and then write all over my bedroom wall to express my constant sorrow because NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ME."

 Yep. Sounds accurate.

Friday, October 30, 2015

Stolen Office Supplies

It's the day before Halloween and my blog is getting a bunch of hits from Pinterest again. To keep with my creative streak, I present all the shit I have told my co-workers I stole from work and what I did with it:

1. Hundreds of gallons of water from the water cooler to fill my exotic koi fish pond.
2. All the white-out and I used it to paint my house. When they asked how the white-out doesn't wash off in the rain..
3. Rolls and rolls of book tape that I used to shittily laminate my entire house. It's kind of like thicker clear packing tape but it says book tape so it's more expensive.
4. Black sharpies. For touching up the black shutters on my house. Not for butt stuff, you perv.
5. Toilet paper. This one is for butt stuff.
6. One year we had a bunch of DVDs stolen from their cases. I told them it was me and I have an expansive collection if anyone ever wants to come over and "Stolen dvd and chill". Wink wink.
7. Lots and lots of paperclips. I melted them down and made them into new gutters.
8. Binder clips. They hold up my shower curtain.

Lately I've been hoarding rubber bands, I'm planning on weaving them together and making a trampoline.

Anytime something goes missing, I claim to have stolen it. In retrospect this is probably a really stupid idea but whatever. If people take me seriously, that's their issue. And if I get framed for theft by a rouge co-worker and go to prison, that's between me, the state and my new prison wife, Big Deborah.

Thursday, October 29, 2015

Save the Drama

I think the worst people in the world are the ones who gossip and lie about other people in hopes to get them ahead somehow or make them look like they are trustworthy. If you spend hours of your day, gossiping and telling half truths or even just stating things way out of context because you know it will sound a lot worse, please do everyone a favor and go somewhere. Just go, get on outta here.

To be clear, I don't mean the occasional, "OH MY GOD. I can NOT stand so-and-so. They are completely ridiculous. I told her that I wouldn't be able to meet up later because my boss is making me stay late to work on a special project and she hung up on me. Now she won't return any of my texts or calls because she's upset with me. I can't just leave and I don't why she doesn't get it." There is a huge, HUGE between venting or saying something that actually took place and the shit I'm talking about.

For instance, say you had something come up at work:
You - "Hey, I am so bummed. You know how we are already super short handed at work? Well Jillian quit and Todd had emergency brain surgery. I know I promised to hang out all day with you on your birthday and go to the spa and shit but I wanted to warn you I *might* have to work for a few hours. It's not for sure yet, they were going to look at the schedule and try to figure something out. They know I've have a request in for taking that day off for months and they are really good and making sure we get the days off we ask for. It's probably not even going to affect my schedule, I just brought it up on the very super slim chance, everyone else dies and I have to work."

A normal person might remark: " Man that sucks but I totally understand. We will just hope for the best! Worse case scenario we can always meet up once you're off!"

You - "Like I said, honestly I probably won't even have to go in. Doug has been looking for extra hours and Tiffany is going on vacation soon and wanted some extra cash. I just wanted to let you know so I don't disappoint you. I'll let you know what's up as soon as they tell me!"

Normal person - "It's cool, man! Don't worry about it! I know you've been stressed out lately with everything going on. I can't wait to see you! Call me and let me know what's up, I have to go Heimlich Maneuver this guy choking on a hot dog."

Then you have this person:

You - "....everyone else dies and I have to work."


You - "Woah! Like I said, I probably won't even have to go in! There are two other people who want the hours. I just wanted to bring it up in case something weird happens and they need me."


And that's when someone gets a round house kick to the face.

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Transformation Tuesday

So I posted this picture to Facebook last Tuesday for Transformation Tuesday:

April 29, 2014 to October 6, 2015

Because I've been working really hard to lose weight for the last 16 or so months. Being the Negative Yet Realistic Rachel I am, I'm sure there are plenty of people who look at this and think, "Yo bitch, it's nothing special that you lost a bunch of weight you should have never gained in the first place. There is no reason to applaud you." To those people I say, "Fuck you" and also "Yeah, you're completely right." It's true, I NEVER should have allowed myself to gain that much weight. I wasn't disabled, I didn't have a pregnancy, there was absolutely no reason what so ever I should have gained that much weight. I have no excuse for why but this is the how:

June 2013 - We finally decided we would have a baby so I quit taking my birth control and started preparing. So exciting!
August 2013 - First month of actually trying to conceive.
September 2013 - Didn't work. Sad but that's ok! Maybe it will just take a couple months for my body to get back to normal after years of birth control. Let's try again!
October 2013 - Nope. Maybe I just needed to even out my hormones a little longer.
November 2013 - Another negative. Went to a baby seminar, felt stupid but won a baby bathtub. There was still hope at this point.
December 2013 - October 2014 - Still nothing. Starting to think something isn't right so we make an appointment with an OB/GYN. During this time, I went through all the emotions. Every month I would go from hopefully to devastated. It was getting to be too much. At the doctor's we did one test on me, one test on husband. Our 3rd and last appointment, the doctor told us there was nothing they could do here for us, referred us to a fertility clinic and thanked us for coming. He told us to come back if we got pregnant.

I don't remember when it started, maybe some point in spring 2013, I pretty much just slowly got to the point where I stopped caring, I became super destructive and just didn't give a shit what happened to me. I didn't care about anything, I just wanted to feel good or numb or anything other than sad. I just wanted to sleep, eat, party, repeat. (To be fair, those are still in my top five activities) But instead of moderation or control I did these things with reckless abandon. I was selfish and I saw nothing wrong with that behavior.

Moral of the story: I obviously didn't handle shit well. I know that, I live with those consequences every day. Every time I put on my clothes, every time I look in the mirror. I know it was stupid, believe me. But it happened and the only thing I can do at this point is try to fix it. Which is I'm doing.

Monday, September 14, 2015

What's Up Pussy Cat?

My sister and our friend were watching the show "Brain Games" one night when I wandered in to tell them my recent embarrassing story. I was scroll through Facebook and saw a bowl of soup:

So I was like "THIS SOUP LOOKS GOOD!" 

 It was freaking cat food. Rob thought it was hilarious. So I had to go tell them my story and I interrupted their show. They asked if I wanted to stay and watch so I did. The show is interactive and one of the quizzes or whatever was this:
Three questions. Answer quickly and out loud. 
 How often do you exercise? "Never"
What was your high school GPA? "Probably like 1.5"
How tall are you? "5'10" or so"

I answer the questions out loud and then the show goes on to say, "Now I want you to ask yourself and be honest. Did you over exaggerate or inflate your answers to any of these three questions? If you did, you're not alone!"

No. Actually I didn't inflate my answers. They were completely honest. Brutally honest. I nearly made myself cry. I think this tells you a lot about my character. Honest to a fault and would probably eat that cat food. Next time I go on an interview I am totally telling this story and the interviewer will probably give me their job.

Friday, August 28, 2015

Book Reviews For Honest People: Attachments

I just, literally JUST, (two months ago) finished this book Attachments by Rainbow Rowell. It was actually quite good, for what I would consider an easy read.  The reason why I felt I NEEDED to blog about it is because I had an epiphany just as I finished it.
Ok, so there are two story lines happening throughout this book, it goes back and forth between each one which is the type of style I LOVE. It's what I would kind of call a rom-com/chick lit which I'm not usually into, or allowed to be into. As it was said in our pre-marriage counseling session AND I QUOTE, "She has an unrealistic standard of what a relationship is.." - Rob "Always be hatin" Lavender. Whatever, so maybe I would like for my life to play out like a romantic comedy, sue me.

Regardless, one story line follows Lincoln, the man character who sounds like a huge nerd and works in IT for a newspaper, but more like a "technology security" type position. The second story line follows two ladies who work for the same newspaper and all of their story is written in an emailing each other format, Beth and Jennifer. So Lincoln gets this job and a part of it is anytime an email gets flagged due to trigger words like sex, secret, etc. it goes to a folder and he has to check it and if it is inappropriate or personal, he has to send them a warning to stop. He starts reading these interactions between Beth and Jennifer, which are all personal emails between friends and decides not to send them any warnings because he thinks they are nice people and whatever. Well he keeps reading their flagged emails and learns all this personal stuff about them and starts to really like Beth even though she has a boyfriend. Keep in mind, he is reading their personal emails to each other. At one point he even goes up and is creeping around Beth's desk and going to her boyfriend's shows (he is a musician).

All this very, VERY sketchy behavior but just as the reader starts to think "uhhhhhhhhhh......this Lincoln guy is a freaking weirdo stalker" we find out that actually even though he still lives with his mom, works in IT, plays Dungeons and Dragons when he isn't just staying home being a loner, Lincoln is apparently smokin' hot and all big and muscular, testosterone pumping through him with his chiseled jaw and devastatingly good looks. Like magic, he goes from complete psycho to "OMG, like it's totally ok that he is totally invading their privacy and whatever. *Sigh* I bet he has a great ass. Oh! He just joined the gym. <insert impure thoughts of beads of sweat slowly dripping down Lincoln's perfectly formed body. Flowing down the ripple of his 6 pack and melting into the waistband of this tight, red boxer briefs.> (This is actually a very tame book, I just added all the pervy parts in my own mind because I'm deviant like that...)

Why? Why is this beardo behavior suddenly acceptable just because we find out this character is a modern day Adonis? Because when it comes down to it we are all shallow assholes and (most of the time) it's is easier to forgive bad behavior if the person is good looking. Shame on you, society. Ya'll need to strip down and get to steppin. SHAME..SHAME..SHAME..*rings bell*

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

That Time Chicago Turned Me Emo.

Chicago is great. There is always something to do, the museums, aquarium and the planetarium are awesome, food everywhere, sports, anything you could possibly think of to eat, see or do can come to fruition in Chicago.
That being said, enjoy this life lesson I picked up while visiting the Adler Planetarium.

On day 4 of our vacation, we went to the Adler Planetarium. This was on a Saturday so it was a little busy but nothing too crazy. We got to Adler about noon and with our admission we were able to choose a couple shows to watch while we were there. So we pick a couple, the first one being at 12:45, 45 minutes after our arrival. It was called "Welcome To The Universe" and at the beginning it seemed pretty awesome. Looked at the Earth, they outlined all the orbit paths of the various satellites, then they backed out to our solar system, then our galaxy. It was about this point when I stopped hearing the actual narrator and began hearing my own commentary which went something like this:

"Yeah, you see that shit? Do you realize how insignificant your life is? NOTHING MATTERS! To this universe, you are literally nothing. Earth, in it's entirety, is nothing, your solar system is nothing, hell your galaxy is nothing. In 2 billion or so years, the Milky Way galaxy and Andromeda galaxy are set to collide. IN 2 BILLION YEARS. Long after everyone is dead and gone, the universe will continue to be. So the Earth and it's people and all that you stand for, doesn't matter. The universe is the ultimate honey badger, it gives literally zero fucks. If all life on Earth ended right now, doesn't matter. Also, you are an alien."

There I am, in the throes of an existential crisis, wearing 3D glasses. If that's not a damn good metaphor for my life I don't know what is. I can solidly say I have never had a 30 minute film make me feel so insignificant in my entire life. And they have a guy who sits behind the audience narrating the whole time while running the film. I can't even imagine how that guy feels everyday after work. Maybe he does it so much that the words just don't affect him anymore. Or he has some serious, life affirming mantra he repeats regularly.

As if that wasn't enough, my mind decided to think back to the previous day at the Field Museum. Specifically to the exhibit that featured a timeline of all the mass extinctions. Seems to me we are due one any day now, in fact some scientists believe that we are already on the brink of the sixth mass extinction. "We’re currently experiencing the worst spate of species die-offs since the loss of the dinosaurs 65 million years ago." - The Center for Biological Diversity. So what's causing this? It's us. "99 percent of currently threatened species are at risk from human activities." Way to go humans, you dicks.

I have to say besides all that, it was a great trip. We did a bunch of stuff, saw a lot of things. I highly recommend visiting Chicago. The whole trip was super fun. Also Cirque Du Soleil's Kurios was probably the coolest thing I have ever seen in my entire life.

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

He Ain't Heavy....

Before I begin I want to say that I love my boy, I can't imagine life without him. I would go to the ends of the Earth for him but I have to admit, being seen in public with him is kind of embarrassing. My name is Rachel and I have a fat, dramatic dog.

I know it's my own fault, I need to walk him more but there is a very good reason I don't. When we first got Rolo, we lived in a townhouse with no backyard. So to take him out to potty we would leash him and walk him around the little parking lot, grassy area and wait for him to take poos. We also walked a lot more back then so he was getting pretty good on a leash. When we bought a house we made sure it had a nice big backyard for him to run around in. This slightly backfired when Rolo decided he hated grass. Soon after we moved in, I tricked Rob into adopting a second dog. Bella taught Rolo how to go potty and play in the grass and everything was great.Then we got Saffy because I mean what's one more, amiright?

Fenced in yard = less walks (because we are mean like that). Less walks = Fat dogs and fat Rachels. So I decided I need to start walking these granimals again. I quickly learned that there is no way I could possibly walk all three hellhounds at the same time so I started walking them separately.  Another side effect of not taking Rolo on walks was his new inability to walk on a leash properly. Instead he likes to choke himself the entire way, stopping occasionally to hack and gag all over the place. Got a harness, still managed to choke himself.
Last fall we got another new harness that goes around his nose so if he pulls, it pulls his muzzle towards his chest so he'll stop. Rolo decided that he didn't like that so he stopped using his front legs. Just went limp, laid his face on the ground sideways and walked with his back legs to make it appear I was dragging him through the neighborhood like a terrible person. Then he found a field of dried grass clipping which he proceeded to drag his face through, setting off his allergies. And of course he wants to poop in everyone's yard, so when I stopped to pick that up, he fell over onto his side with a crazy look in his eye and refused to get up and walk. Finally I thought fuck it, I'll pick him up. There I was, carrying a pudgy, red-eyed, hacking terrier 3 blocks home. And he loved every damn minute of it.

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Losing My Chicago Virginity

Quick post while we're on the road. I'm back for now, I'm sorry I left you but there was some stuff and then some other stuff but I'm back so weehaw!
We are actually en route to the Windy City as I type this. It's 5:59am and the sky is insanely gorgeous, it almost makes me want to get up this early every morning. Almost..
We've been "planning" this trip for months and by planning I mean talking about planning it but never actually sitting down to do it. We know some of the stuff we want to do but have yet to nail down our exact itinerary. Since apparently everyone has been to Chicago but us, we have had quite a few people suggest different things which is awesome because I feel like I totally dropped the ball on this trip. Usually I have everything scheduled, down to baby powder application stops so the chaffing doesn't get too out of control. Lately I've embraced the f-it attitude, just go with the flow and we'll end up wherever we end up. But yet again, my laziness has come back to bite me in the ass.
My good friend at work recently took a trip to Chicago and suggested a hotel out in one of the suburbs which sounded really nice. Free parking, near the train station, we can jump on and ride to downtown in about 40 minutes or so. Sounds great right? So I tell the husband, we book the hotel. Look at us, all proactive and shit.
Literally last night, as we are driving home from saying goodbye to my sister and niece, the mention of this train comes up. If you know me AT ALL, you are currently thinking to yourself "......biitchh..." because during this ENTIRE PLANNING PROCESS I FAILED TO CONNECT THE DOTS THAT I WILL HAVE TO RIDE A G-D DAMN TRAIN. I am terrified of freaking trains, so husband brings up the trains and I'm like "WOAH WOAH WOAH...Train? An actual train? Like the things that kill people" I don't know how the hell I managed to talk about this freaking hotel and taking the freaking train into downtown for MONTHS and it never occurred to me that I would actually have to take a death ride on said train. So I start freaking out asking particulars on exactly what kind of train this is, are you sure it's not like a tram, maybe one of those things you ride at zoos? He starts googling Chicago train videos, shows me one THAT RUNS IN THE MEDIAN OF A INTERSTATE, so now the fear has fully evolved into cold sweats and terror eyes. In an attempt to, what I assume was comfort me, he says "You are wayyyy more likely to die in a car than on a train...." Soooo in an instant, our fun family vacation quickly turned into a game of minesweeper, no one wins. I'm sure it will be fine and I'm sure I'm over reacting. But just in case, I want to let those who know my funeral plans that I thought about it, the airhorn remix into Straight Outta Compton might be too much if my death is really tragic but I want at least one airhorn in at least one song. Just a quick one, wah wahhh, just sneak it in.
I'll take pictures. Also I love you all and wish you were here.

Monday, July 13, 2015

I Like Old Men

Last night, and by last night I mean like 2 weeks ago, we were driving home and we passed the tennis courts on our side of town. There were a bunch of guys playing tennis, all sweaty and such and I found myself doing a double take to get another look at one of the bunch.  In the sea of hard bodies and toned calves, there he was, an Adonis among men, his gray hair catching the sun just right. "Hot daammnnn, silver fox!" I said just before remembering Rob was in the car with me, "The other day Lynsey (mah bff) asked if it's weird she's starting to think older guys are hot. I told her I didn't think it was weird because I definitely think older guys are hot. I really think we are starting to mature and realize what's important in life, like money and nice houses. It's like DAMMNN. You look well established as heelllllllll. I bet you get approved for loans INSTANTLY.  You're credit score is probably real high!"
Rob looked at me for a second and said, "I bet that Toyota of yours is paid OFF!" <---- That's how I know it's meant to be. He just gets me. Of course I yelled in reply, "HIGHLANDER MOTHA FLUCKAAAA!"

Maybe it's not just me, maybe all the hot guys from my youth are just aging really, really well. Like really well......yes.

That's what I love about these retirement community guys, man. I get older, they stay the saaame age....

 Ok not that old...I crossed a line. I apologize. But seriously, older dudes, feel free to take your nightly after dinner walks passed my place.... ;)

Thursday, June 18, 2015

The Goose Story

One time my friend at work was talking about getting a gosling, naming it Ryan and letting it live in her pocket. Yes, she and I are probably soulmates. This reminded me of the goose story.

When I was a child, we lived on an acreage. On our acreage was our house, it was actually an underground house.
Artist Sketch

(After I made that beautiful sketch I found this picture. This was after we abandoned it for a few years so the windows are boarded up and it looks like crap but you get the idea.)
Side note: apparently I am an amazingly accurate artist.

So one day my mom was home, cleaning the house with the windows open. As you can see the windows are at ground level. No screens of course, that way we didn't have to use the stairs, we would just jump in and out of them. While she was cleaning, she heard a crazy  murder noise outside and saw that our dog was attacking a Canadian goose out in the yard. Being a hero, she ran out to get the dog away from the goose. She was chasing the dog away and the goose escaped. Not seeing it anywhere she was all *shoulder shrug* "Meh!" and returned to the house. When she got inside she found the goose had gotten inside by jumping through the window and was FREAKING out, which is to be expected I guess. Eventually she was able to get it out of the house but it was injured so it couldn't fly away. So it just hung out by the apple tree, chillin'.

Once we got home we decided to net the thing. Basically we ran around screaming like banshees taking turns throwing some kind of definitely not a goose net thing over it while it hissed and tried to bite us. Finally we got the hammock or what ever the hell we were using on the goose and I tackled it to the ground like Steve Irwin tackles crocodiles in heaven. We put it in the box and planned on taking it this pond area in town where all the other geese hang out. I think we assumed one of the other geese was a goose shaman and would be able to magically heal it's broken ass wing. None of what we did that day made any god damn sense. We dropped my little sister off at my mom's boyfriend's house and heading to the pond to reunite it with it's family. By the time we got there it was already dead. It had been dead for a while. THEEE END!

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

You Are What You Pretend To Be..Even a Unicorn!

I basically had the best weekend ever. Our story begins on Saturday when I walked into Kohl's and found the mecca of Peter Pan collar tops. I've literally been searching for several weeks for these fancy blouses so it was a very dramatic moment. Then on Saturday night I hung out with some pretty cool folks which was alright for the most part and THEN! ON SUNDAY! We went to Wizard World Comic Con and it was THE BEST. I had so much fun. We saw some awesome artists, I got to meet Jason Mewes, took some selfies together and got an autograph, bought a lot of cool art prints and stuff, looked deep into my soul and discovered an embarrassing passion, paid $4 for a small powerade, you know all the normal things one does while at a convention.
 Fine. I'll say it. I'm only 93% ashamed to admit it. I enjoy making costumes and wearing them, on Halloween... and also to other events such as Comic Con. It was super fun and an excellent creative outlet for me. I will not use the term "cosplay" when referring to myself because that's super lame. I just like to dress up in costumes. It's not a big deal, I DON'T WANNA TALK ABOUT IT. I'm not a weird cosplayer...... that's what I kept telling myself when I was in the bathroom at the convention center adjusting my tail and applying more purple lipstick...

Yes. I know I'm a giant nerd, I figured that out this morning when I was almost late for work because I was trying to adjust the way my new Jurassic Park employee badge was hanging from my rear view mirror. And it was set in stone when I was explaining to my co-worker that I hung it up there so it would look like I actually work there and have to show it when I drive up to get into the facility. Safety rules and precautions be damned, looking like I am a certified dino park ranger is totally worth the obstruction of my vision while driving. 

I'm just really embarrassed by the whole thing and asking myself what brought me to this point. I imagine this is the same feeling parents feel when they find out their teenage son had been collecting strands of hair he finds around and has turned them into a softball size hairball. With a face. Like I'm not really ok with it but I'm trying to understand and keep an open mind.

Here's a picture of my cospla...costume.
Husband and I getting our pose on

Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Nice Ads: You been working out?

First of all, I want to say thank you to all those who view my blog! Whether you like me or hate me, I appreciate the dedication to whichever side of the cause you are on. I can't say it enough how sincerely grateful I am that people actually read this crap. Truly grateful. I love you all.

Secondly, now that Google finally approved my blog to display ads, as shitty as they might be at times, I am proud to announce my blog has finally gotten off it's lazy ass and starting pulling it's weight around here. Yes, that's right, my blog has made me money. This cash cow has raked me in a whole $1.16 in the last two months. I'm thinking about quitting my job. Actually, I find the ads a little annoying (not you Amazon Kindle, we cool) but I figure if I keep my chin up maybe someday they will be better. Like right now, as I am typing this, the ad displayed is a poor quality, probably stolen off someone's old MySpace page picture of a very respectable woman dressed like a skank with the caption "Get a Girlfriend now" in a generic font. Full of class, just like myself.

I was kind of upset when I realized the ads I was so thrilled to get ended up being a bunch of weird, phishy looking dating sites and "talk to women near you" banners. Apparently they feel those ads are relevant to my blog..perhaps it is time for me to self-reflect on the content I am posting. I'm working on getting those ads changed but until then try to restrain yourself from clicking them. Sure I will make like 5 cents if you do but it's really, really not worth it to me. Feel free to click away if the Amazon Kindle guy comes back or any other legitimate looking ad. Other than that, just steer clear. Especially if you are a relative and are just going to end up calling me and asking "Can you come look at my computer?! IT'S acting WEIRD..." Yeah well, don't click on my shitty ads. Life lessons.

30 seconds later
Update: Hahahaha. Funny story. So I published this post and viewed it so I could share it to Facebook, as one does, when I realized I'm a total fucking idiot. Obviously, AdSense is one of those things that pulls your search history for what ads to display. When I pulled my blog up on my phone it displayed an ad for Comic Con and clothing store. Clearly the weird hot singles and get a Girlfriend dressed like a skank ads are targeting my laptop history. I thought to myself "MY HUSBAND HAS GOT SOME MOTHER PLUCKING EXPLAINING TO DO." Then I remembered he uses his own laptop and I had a flashback to one of my late night pursuing of those creepy Craigslist personal ads. Yes, I admit it, sometimes I look at those creepy ads in hopes of snapchatting some really great pictures to my bestie. DON'T JUDGE ME.
Honestly I can't believe I'm such an idiot. I was blinding by my new-found fortune. I'm still posting this and feel free to give me shit about it forever and ever.

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

She Works Hard For The Money

I try to keep my work life and my personal life separate. If you ever come in and see me at work, you may notice I look like a deer in headlights and our conversation will be very short. It's not that I don't like you or that I don't want to talk to you, sometimes I just feel like I am being watched and my every move is being monitored. You know, just your everyday, run of the mill, non-paranoid thoughts. No biggie.*Puts on tinfoil hat*

Same thing goes if I see regulars outside of work. Most of the time they don't really recognize me out of context but once in awhile I get someone really hellbent on figuring it out. A couple weekends ago I stopped by to watch my sister do karaoke and I sang a couple songs with her. Throughout the maybe hour or two I was there, this guy kept coming up to me saying, " I know you! How do I know you?! Hey guys, how do I know her?" I kept telling him I didn't know what he was talking about and he was confusing me with someone else. I was literally seconds away from putting on a fake (and unconvincingly terrible) Russian accent and yelling random words at him in an attempt to hid my true identity. What I thought this would accomplish, I have no idea. It was definitely one of those "It's so crazy, it might just work!" moments.

Eventually my personal life does tend to seep into my work life. Sometimes I meet people at work who I think are really cool and I talk to them about my real life. Or I'll talk about my weekend shenanigans. I just don't want people to walk in and and start running their mouths in front of my bosses like "HEY! Nice snapchat of you peeing on a gravel road!" or "HEY! Remember that time I saw you at that concert screaming World Star Hip Hop while that guy was being arrested!?" or "HEY! Was that you making out with a cardboard stand up of Zachary Quinto? You know he's gay in real life right?" Yeah I do know. How about you worry about your own life and leave me and Sylar alone in our forbidden love!

Quit calling me out in front of my work peeps, yo. Respect the code! Being told my every personal thought and action, such as adventures in anal suppositories, passing out on New Year's before 11:00pm in my friend's bathroom and my part-time dressing up like a man by the name of Dick Cockburn, even when you don't want to know and you never asked for this life.. is a PRIVILEGE! One I will not revoke but if you come in talking that shit, I will tp your house. Me, cardboard Sylar and all my awkward papercuts.

Saturday, May 16, 2015

Kids - Tiny Jerks in Cute Packaging

Kids are assholes. Ok or maybe adults are just overly sensitive to the innocent questions children sometime ask. Or remarks they make because they just don't realize it might be hurtful. Even their compliments can come off as rude. But they're kids, they don't understand. To kids, adults seem like superheros. They can do everything and are strong & smart.  Basically they are invincible. They don't understand that adults have feelings can be hurt just as easily as their own. Eventually kids grow up and believe me, once they realize their mistake, they feel like total dicks.
Like the time I was super, really sure I hated meatloaf. Probably because whenever my mom made it, she overloaded it with onions and I REALLY hated onions. Naturally I didn't want anything to do with it but my aunt made it for us and I asked over and over to just try it. So finally I caved and surprisingly, I really liked it! I was so pleased with this wonderful meatloaf and how it didn't taste like ass onions, I exclaimed, "Hey!! I like this! It just tastes like hamburger but with lots of ketchup!" I don't remember exactly what occurred next but my years of crushing guilt tell me it wasn't pleasant. To a kid, that statement makes completely sense, I thought it was going to be bad but it wasn't so I likened to something that tasted good. According to my underdeveloped palate, hamburger and ketchup was fucking awesome and out of the maybe 25 flavor combinations I was aware of at that point in life, one of them being dog shit, it seemed like the most accurate description.

I can think of a hundred asshole things I did and said as a kid and apparently it all came back ten fold in my niece. I can handle the occasionally "Why do your legs have all those bumps?" or "AUNTIE! You and her have the same eyebrows!" As she points to the TV showing Joan Crawford in Mommie Dearest.
Touché child, touché

But nothing, NOTHING had prepared me for the talk my sister had with me the other day. She sat me down and said, "I have to tell you something. The other day, we were playing the Wii and Ellie said she wanted to change her character name. Because she doesn't want to be Squid anymore. And she said she doesn't want you to call her that anymore either."

I could literally feel my heart breaking in my chest. I don't know if I have ever felt that level of devastation in my entire life. She has been my Squid forever. My Squid, my little bug, ripped out my heart and stomped on it. I know she has no idea but it still hurts. Damn kids.

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Conversations with Rob: Butt What?

We were in the car the other evening having a conversation about dinner. I can't remember exactly the conversation but I think I said something about mashed potatoes and he replied with singing the phrase, "Put a potato, in your butt..." I gave him a look of "WTF" and he says, "What? It's an Eddie Murphy song..." Being the annoyance I am I told him, "No. That's Butters' song." This threw Rob into a frenzy and after a short rant he began feverishly searching on YouTube for the recording while I tried to hurry and get home so I could jump out of the car before he could prove me wrong. He finally gets it pulled up on his phone as we hit the driveway but alas, it's a super long intro. We are now in a sitoff in the car, I slowly turn off the car and undo my seat belt. All the while he is saying "NO..NO.....NO... YOU STAY. YOU LISTEN." I slowly reach back, grab my purse and pull my hand on the door handle. Right as I open the door, the lyrics kick in. I run to the front door, while he is celebrating his victory to the soundtrack of "Boogie in Your Butt" by Eddie Murphy. Also, we just got new phones and they play music super, SUPER loud. He is essentially walking towards me with a tiny, super sonic bombox held up to the heavens blasting the lyrics "Put a c-lock, in your butt..put a big rock, in your butt!" Anyone within a block radius is enjoying the sweet sounds of Donkey from Shrek singing about putting everyday objects in butts.
To make it more awkward, while I'm trying to unlock the front door, which is suddenly impossible to do, he decides to announce to the neighborhood, "THIS IS THE KIND OF MUSIC SHE LISTENS TO. SHE'S A FREAK!" All while pointing at me and giving me a disapproving look.

Monday, April 27, 2015

I'm Old & Reckless

I figured since I have nothing better to do and plenty of time on my hands, that I would re-enroll in school and start working towards a degree to have some kind of backup plan, just in case. Why not right?  Then I realized, after talking an adviser on the phone, that the college admissions officers are younger than I am. I FEEL LIKE SUCH AN OLD CREEPY PERSON. Ok they aren't THAT much younger than I am but I know for a fact one of them graduated high school the year after me.

I'm already feeling old as fuck while at work and my mom comes in to hit up the used bookstore. I go to find her to say "what up" and the volunteer tells us that "I would have thought you were sisters, not mother & daughter!" My mom is flattered and I'm horrified (no offense to my mom, she does look really young).

I spent the next 25 minutes holding back tears as I whispered to myself, "I never even got to be on Singled Out...." This is my life.

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Conversations with Rob: Part 2

Me- "....So I stalked her Facebook page and he doesn't even look the same! I guess you look really different in our wedding pictures. You look REALLY young in ours. You are REALLY gray now."

Rob-"Yeah. You did that to me. Just like Obama went gray, after being in the White House for 8 years."

Me - "........."

Rob- ".............." *paired with a sassy look.*

Me - "Touche. Thanks Obama."

For the record, his hair was way darker in our wedding pictures because I "Just For Men"ned it a few days beforehand.

While I'm on the subject, today marks 10 years together for Rob and I. It's been an interesting decade, we've made good memories and not so good memories. We have created a great life together, despite my antics. I've learned a lot in the last 10 years and I'm so thankful that I've had someone like Rob by my side for the journey.

Friday, April 17, 2015

Love in the Time of Tetris

I play video games. My most prized possession is probably my NES. Before you get any ideas like "Cool! We should totally game together" here is what will happen. I will hog the controller for hours before begrudgingly allow you to play ONE GAME while I sit behind you making noises and muttering under my breath about all your "bad moves bro" and "you dumb motherfucker". And if you mess up my game by breathing too loudly, I will fight you. Ask my sister, even the mention of Donkey Kong brings terror to her eyes and makes her scar hurt, real Harry Potter shite.

But this isn't about me and my bad cattitude, this is about me making you a better Tetris player. So here are some tips:

Center up bitches. Don't sit off to the side, you need to be dead center to judge where the pieces are going to fall.

NEVER build so you are relying on more than one long straight piece, or the I "Tetrimino" at a time. Because you're lucky if you get one when you need it, let alone two.

When you clear four lines at once, it's called a Tetris. Some people like to build up in anticipation of getting an "I" because getting a Tetris is worth more points. Personally, I use the build up strategy through level 6 then it's about just clearing lines for me.

Don't be afraid to lay down an "I" horizontally, especially in high levels where time is not on your side and height is the enemy.

Higher Levels
Once you hit level 8, shit gets real. Speed picks up and you get nervous. I use my peripheral vision to see what piece is coming and plan ahead. DO NOT OVER ROTATE YOUR PIECES, by this level you should know what each piece looks like in each stage of rotation, figure out in your head where it's going to fit before it even drops. That way you can line it up and while it's falling into place you can plan your next piece. Don't second guess yourself, don't change destinations halfway through the turn. This will kill you.
DO NOT HARD DROP. Hard drop is when you hold the down arrow and it increases the piece speed. This is just asking for trouble past level 7.

Those are some of the most important things I can think of, I'm sure there are more but you don't get to know all my secrets. And if you ever want to be screamed at while not being allowed to have a turn, come on over sometime! I love having someone to punch after I rage quit.

Friday, April 10, 2015

Conversations with Rob

In our endeavor to find a treat all the dogs will enjoy, we have been purchasing a variety for them to sample. The other day we received a pack of Himalayan Dog Chews, $9.07 This is the conversation that occurred soon after.

Me-"Bahh. I gotta go back to work, watch them with their  treats. None of them are actually eating them, they are just guarding them. Bella is an asshole."

R- "I'm going to eat them."

Me- "Gross. Don't eat them."

R-"People eat them. I'm going to eat them. They are safe for human consumption. Sherpas eat them"

Me-"Don't eat them, SOME of them are safe for human consumptions. Those specifically, probably are not. Don't eat them, you're not a sherpa."

R- "PSHH. I'm a sherpa!"

Me- "You're not a sherpa."

R- "Yeah I am. I'm a sherpa."

Me- "You're not a sherpa, don't eat them."

R- "UMMMMMM...Pretty SHERpa am....."

Me- "......"

R- "BUK YUK BUK YUK YUK *muppet laugh*"

Me- "Jesus Christ, I'M GOING BACK TO WORK! loveyoubye." *walks out door**comes back in* "That was really funny." *leaves again*

Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Animal Control

There is something you should know about me, I have a habit of picking up stray animals. In fact, the last time I picked up two dogs the animal control guy gave me a leash to keep in my car. I almost always have a leash in my car but I took two of them out just a week or two before, so he offered me one to leave in there, you know, for all the stray dog catching I do. I have been around animals my entire life. I can tell by their body language how they are feeling, I don't lack common sense and I'd never full on approach an animal if I felt like I was putting myself in unnecessary danger. Unless I looked into it's eyes and could see the good in it. Much like those women who fall in love with serial killers spending life in prison. LET ME FIX YOU!

I had the leash in my car and I thought to myself "HEY. This is great for dogs...but what about the other critters?" Of course! I'll throw the rabbit's carrier in there too, Magnus won't mind. I rolled around town for a couple weeks with my carrier and leash until the husband needed to use the vehicle. Let's just say he was NOT on board with my idea of outfitting the unlimited (my Ford Escape) with all my critter control tools. I also told him that he couldn't be my deputy and assigned him to evidence collection and hazmat crew. Basically his job is cleaning up any poop accidents. He immediately resigned and told me to take the carrier out of the blankity-blank car.

Low and behold, last week I was tagged in a post asking if my rabbit was out running around a neighborhood a few blocks from me. It was not Mags, he was safe and cozy in the house, it was another pet bunny that had either escaped of been "freed". So I took it upon myself to save this rabbit's life. I messaged the person who posted the initial picture but by that time it had run off and hid. Two days later I received a pm that it came back. My niece and I jumped in the critter control vehicle when I got off work and off we went wabbit huntin'. By some miracle, I had the rabbit caught and secured in about 15 minutes. It went waayyy better than anyone ever imagined. Everyone came out unscathed and Ellie and I looked as professionally badass as a 7 year old in cowboy boots and a 28 year old in a TMNT shirt running around with a banana singing "Bad bun, bad bun. Whatcha gon doo, whatcha gon do when dey come fa you.." softly under their breath could possibly look. Yes, rabbits love bananas and yes I wear my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt A LOT and yes I like having a soundtrack to go with everything I do.

I dropped off my deputy at her house and headed back to headquarters with the new little fella. Yes, it is definitely a boy. He had very prominent testicles. I made him up some temporary housing to chill in for a couple days until we found the owner or I could take him to a rescue. I did get a ton of judgmental looks from everyone in the household. I don't know why, bringing in stray, possibly diseased animals seems like a brilliant idea. Plus it's not like I was confident I would catch the thing. I mean it's an damn rabbit, who in the hell catches an effing rabbit? I just figured I'd give it a go so I could feel less guilty when I passed it on the way to work sometime the following week, dead in the middle of the road. I was just as surprised as anyone that I actually caught him. Considering how thin he was, he probably just didn't have it in him to fight me off. That and rabies.

A couple things I learned during this rabbit saving adventure:

#1. Not all rabbits are fluffy little clouds of fur like Magnus. Granted this stranger danger rabbit was pretty dirty from being out in the wilderness but even his little head furs are much coarser than Maggie's.

#2. If they aren't raised with dogs from 6 weeks old, they are terrified of them. Obviously I knew this but when my dogs came trotting down the stairs to check things out, I was not expecting this rabbit to go full on boxing stance and try to fight me while I was changing his water. Everyone is so use to our little chillaxin' bunny that even the dogs were like "WTF?! Why is this guy freaking out?!"

#3. Rabbits are not like dogs. Out of curiosity, I took Mags downstairs to observe the other rabbit, just to see what would happen. I figured it would be fine since they were separated by the cage and I would make sure my house bunny didn't get close to or touch anything near the outdoor bunny's cage, for health reasons. Well, didn't really have to worry because they barely even made eye contact before Magnus realized he's never explored the basement and took off to see what he could find. Neither rabbit could care less about the other one.

Something I have definitely realized is what an awesome rabbit I have in Magnus, not that there is anything wrong with the found bunny, he just isn't my baby. The new bunny is now safe at the Animal Rescue League, awaiting his new home. I hope he finds someone to love him as much as I love my little punkin.

Also I couldn't outright cry when dropping him off, I had an audience of my bestie, her daughter and my niece and I was trying to use it as a learning experience for the little girls that we were doing a very good thing for da bun. Believe me, if those kids weren't there I would have been a blubbering fool. Full on, curled up on the ground while using my legs to spin myself in a circle while ugly crying. The pain was real.

Monday, March 23, 2015

Major Events

Yes, I'm slacking on the posting but I have a legitimate reason. I've decided to quit my job, sell my belongings and move out to LA to follow my dreams of being an actor. I'm leaving my friends and family in hopes to become a star. Do I feel bad? A little but I've decided that I can't live my life for everyone around me anymore, I have to live it for me. You one get one life and sometimes you have to make hard decisions.  It's time for me to be selfish and just do it........

is what I would say if I ever decided to do that. I'm not 100% on the wording but that's what I've been busy doing. Making up fake speeches in case I ever have to make a major announcement in my life. Here is another one:

Ahem, excuse me everyone I have an announcement. After much consideration and self reflection, I have decided to join the Church of Scientology. My very good friend, John Travolta has committed his time to helping me in my conversion. I am excited to be working under world-renowned Dr. Bunsen Honeydew and his assistant, Beaker in their ongoing endeavor to finally prove that...what? What do you mean that's not what Scientology is...It's what?! That doesn't even make any sense. L. Ron who? Oh yeah that sci-fi author..The leader?! What do you mean "leader", like department head? Well yeah, I mean I thought the church part seemed a little weird but....Oh shit. Ok...yeah..yeah I didn't know that at all. This was a mistake. I was thinking it was something completely different. Ok, I need a minute to figure some shit out....

Then there is my retirement speech:

Thank you all for being here today, I am truly honored and grateful. If you would have told me 103 years ago when I first started at the library that someday I would be owing my great success to my Persian Mechacat boss after a simple mistake in a lab caused millions of tainted vials of cat vaccines to be shipped and administered to millions of felines all over the world, causing them to quickly evolve into hyper intelligent beings who then took control of all the major financial markets, ceasing economic struggle, creating jobs and masterfully overseeing this globalized, yet surprisingly well functioning, ultra safe world of ours, I would have laughed and said, "Without thumbs?!" and you would have replied, "No, the whole evolution thing gave them thumbs.." which I would retort, "Oh duh. Sorry. I am really, REALLY hungover this morning." Which is why I'd like to dedicate this toast to you, Doctor Maurice Fluffybottom. Your understanding, compassion and strong work ethic has always encouraged me to do my best. You have never hesitated to roll up your tiny, cat sleeves and jump in when we needed help. You have been a champion for the human and feline right to information and intellectual freedoms across the territory. You are truly a gentlecat and a scholar...

I also started writing one


I'm not sure in what context I'll use that one for. Maybe like a birthday party or something. So yeah, as you can see, I've been pretty busy with that so not a lot of time for blogging. Hopefully I'll get back into a normal routine here soon.

Monday, March 2, 2015

I'm not pregnant. But that might not be all that bad.

Because I am nosy myself, I have a natural sympathy for all those other people out there who like knowing what other people have going on in their lives, I'm going to update you quickly on our whole pregnancy journey. There isn't really one. We both did minor testing with the OB/GYN here and found out we had issues. He told us he unfortunately couldn't do anything else for us at this point and we should head down to the fertility clinic and see what they say. I printed off some of the initial paperwork for the consultation, which included an insurance questionnaire to find out what is covered and what isn't. Our insurance covers very little, as in absolutely none of the actual procedures. And although we might have the money to start the process, we won't have the money to continue it. So we rather just back burner it at this point.
This is my my explanation on why we are currently paused in our epic battle of procreation. Now for the part where we pretend not to be bitter and I try to uplift everyone's spirits with humor.

Not getting immediately pregnant has come with a few benefits, believe it our not. What most men don't understand, at least speaking from my own experience of owning lady bits and pretty much being a medical professional, is that the yearning to become a mother comes deep down from our hormonal uteruses. I like to call it the H-hole. It's like a black hole but shoots out feelings. This is the same place that makes me attempt to rip the refrigerator door off a couple times a month because I wanted cereal but some IDIOT drank all the god damn milk. See me, over there crying because my pants look too short on me today? Blame my H-Hole.That death glare I'm giving the 76 year old lady at Target because even though I wasn't going to buy that shirt I was looking at it with my eyes from 7 aisles over so technically it already belongs to me? Thanks a lot, H-hole.

Having to really work at something tends to give you a lot of time to think decisions through. After several months, much of the emotions start to give way to actual reasoning. Kids are a huge responsibility. You are in charge of raising a human being and keeping them alive and in decent condition. And here is the kicker, just because they turn 12 (or 18 or whatever) doesn't mean you can stop being a parent. Personally I don't know if I want to be the subject of some internally shattered, yet devastatingly good looking adult's therapy session and knowing who I am, it's a possibility that will be the case if I have a child. I tend to teeter right on the edge of sanity and some of the things I do even catch me off guard. I really don't need a little, tiny shadow running around lighting little, tiny fires next to my great big ones. Even if that does sound super fun and we would be best friends.

Kids are expensive as FUUUUUUdge. Quality fudge. Know what's even more expensive? Paying upwards of $16,000 for IVF just to try having one. If the thought of paying $40 for a bag of fancy dog food makes my eye twitch when my dogs stare and bark at me just to be jerks, I can't imagine the passive aggressive shit I would unleash on an ungrateful 15 year old who thinks they can tell me what to do in my own house. I'd immediately slip an invoice under their door... first payments due on the 15th jackass. Better keep up on it too, I will send my own child to collections to prove a point, I am not that mature. Yeah, you better go find Dad.

Not only am I unreasonable, I'm also sensitive. One morning my niece was telling me about another kid at school who was being mean to her. In the five blocks it took to drive her to school, I had already decided to quit my job and homeschool her but not until after I stormed in the school and chewed out the principal for not doing their job and allowing this heinous bullying to happen. After worrying all day, I stopped by my sister's after work and showed Ellie my phone, "Is this the girl?!" "Yeah" she replied. Good, I thought, because I tracked down her, her mom, her grandma (on both sides) and have already memorized their addresses and phone numbers. With tears in my eyes, I rose my fist to the heavens and shouted, "DON'T WORRY SQUID! I WILL AVENGE YOUR HONOR!!" and she says, "It's ok Auntie, we're friends now. We played at recess." .............WHAT KIND OF SICK MIND GAMES DO YOU FIRST GRADERS PLAY THESE DAYS?! Hours earlier I was fully prepared to go to prison over this shit and now you're friends??! I preemptively joined a gang for you!!! Do you know how hard it is to find a legitimate gang with a heavy focus on philanthropy yet still has mad street cred in our area?! I only had like two to choose from.

Kids are super frustrating. I think back to when Ellie was just a little bug. She was adorable but she could be so, so naughty. Like running off in a store and hiding behind the toilet paper.... or crying over every little thing that happened, good or bad. Or the entire summer when she repeatedly would only eat the frosting off the tops of cupcakes and throw the rest in the trash.
"Ok, if I give you this cupcake do you PROMISE that you won't just lick the frosting off and throw the rest away?"
"Ok..remember you promised..."
"I prooomiiissse...." in her squeaky, little singsong voice.
Hands her cupcake, she licks all the frosting off, gets all squinty eyed and says, "IIII don't think I like this...." throws in trash.

She was literally banned from eating any cupcakes, cookies or whatever else had frosting on it for like a year. We still don't trust her completely.

But damn was she cute. Look at that little arctic seal baby. Awwww. She's older now but still as cute with the added bonus of the funny things she says. I love her so much.

So that's it. I promise to make these posts shorter some day.

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

THE Blog Post.

Every time I log into Blogger, I get excited to see how many "hits" my blog has gotten since the previous login, about 15 minutes prior. What can I say, I like feeling special.

Well in the last few months, I've had one of my blog posts gain momentum on Pinterest. It's the one explaining the Father's Day post picture which I also happen to brag about my sweet crafting skills when I made those bad ass angel wings for a bachelorette party. This post. So I noticed a bunch of traffic from Pinterest and did a quick edit to explain how I made them because apparently people wanted an actual tutorial and not just pictures of me drunk performing an exorcism. Psssh. Who wouldn't want that? Weirdos.

At first it was cool because I was like, "What what! Pinterest famous! #blessed" but now I just feel used. Like a dirty, angel wing harlot. They didn't want me, they just wanted my angel wings. They don't even click around to humor me just wham, bam, thank you ma'am. One and done. Needless to say, my feelings are somewhat hurt and I am now dealing with a deep, internal struggle. Do I keep doing what I do, writing sporadic attempts at humor with no regard to what the public wants? Or do I give into society and begin only showcasing my amazing, yet boring craft skills in return for riches and fame?

By the lack of crafts in this post, you can see I clearly have chosen myself over the masses. I will stick to entertaining myself and the few of you that still read this, which thanks to Facebook's shitty pick and choose method of showing only certain posts, my reader numbers are slowly dwindling to only those dedicated followers. It doesn't deter me from writing at all, I do it mostly to get my thoughts out there and ruin any chance I will ever have at running for office. I mean, I definitely would be overjoyed if I could somehow make a living doing this. There is nothing I would like more than to bang out a couple blog posts a week, maybe get a book deal and sit at home the rest of the time hanging out with the dogs and rabbit and tv. Seeing as though I can't even get Google AdSense to approve my application WHICH I FILLED OUT MONTHS AGO, I don't see that happening anytime soon. I'm guessing it has to do with most of this blog's lack of relevant content. I don't even know what I would have ads for. Maybe suppositories and human rabies vaccines? Any kind of rehab center? Cereal would make sense, because I fcking love cereal? I'm sure we could brainstorm and figure something out Google. Hit me back, yo.

For now I'll just have my Pinterest fame. Oh and also my couple weeks of hometown fame, since I was on the cover of a local magazine recently and mailed out to thousands of homes, looking like a giant compared to my co-cover models aka my co-workers. So I MS Paint fixed it so I look like a normal sized person...
Identities have been changed to protect the innocent
Thanks for reading, my true friends and one or two enemies.

Thursday, February 12, 2015


*sigh* Oh Vegas. You fickle bitch, I hate you but I love you. There are a lot of reasons to want to go to Las Vegas, it's warm there, there is a lot to do and see, it just seems like it would be a really fun time. Have a few drinks, hang out at the pool, hit da clubs. Maybe take in a show, enjoy the night life, be one with the magical mistress that is Vegas. Hell just typing that makes me want to go there again! But, wait....what is this? This Harry Potter like throbbing scar on my heart?'s coming back to me.....

1. There are a lot, A LOT of freaking people. We went during the week and there was people everywhere. I can't even imagine what a weekend is like.

2. Whenever you read a review of Vegas, you will see "Be ready to walk a lot" they actually mean "LEGS FEET DEAD ARGH WALKING". Our hotel was 120 acres. ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY ACRES. That's not a typo. The first night we got there, we walked around the hotel and basically got lost. I can't even imagine being completely party rocked trying to figure that shit out. That's how homeless people happen, they come to Vegas, walk around until their legs can't take it and just sit down and stay there. This is where I live now.

3. It's time consuming. It takes forever to get anywhere. Plan to leave early to get to your destination, if you can make it there before your inner thighs chaff off and you die.

3. Part 2: ALSO travel time is drastically different. Iowa time is "Hey that town is 60 miles away, it will take us about 60 minutes to get there." L.A. time is "Hey that town is 40 miles away, it will take an hour." Vegas time is "Hey that hotel is across the street. By the time we get there, we will have watched our children grow up, get married, have kids of their own and we will have died of old age. Maybe we should just stay on this side of the street."

4. There is no sense of clock time what so ever. Time doesn't exist. We walked through casino after casino in a Vegas induced fun coma and eventually looked at our phones. Holy shit it's 3:00 am. I'M GOING TO LIVE FOREVER.

5. Be prepared for a major dose of reality. We were at a casino, having fun playing the penny slots, like a boss, and I looked over at saw this guy, this drunk, sad guy just losing and losing. Not having fun, just losing all his money. Gambling is a terrible addiction. There were also a lot of people who clearly had drug problems. All of them were well dressed, good looking people. They were the cool kids, they were supposed to be..I dunno, cool.  But it wasn't cool, it was sad. Cocaine. It's a hell of a drug, apparently.

So why would I ever feel the need to go back to such a dismal, unfortunate place? Well come to find out, everyone there is just little psychotic which means I fit in perfectly. It's like my mothership, I probably could have just chilled on Fremont Street listening to music all night if not for the most terrifying Elmo I'd ever seen.

Who knows, maybe one day, when you finally make it across the street to the MGM, you'll look down the strip and see the silhouette of a chubby, crazy haired lady holding a rabbit on a rascal, gently flicking a stack of escort for hire cards, rolling into the sunset. And you'll turn to your great grandchild and say, "I knew her...I read her blog once...."

Sunday, February 1, 2015

Disaster Prevention

You know when you do something and you are amazed it didn't end in a complete and utter disaster. And then you think to yourself, "Holy shit. That was way too freaking close. I better never do that again." Or maybe you almost do something and your heart drops to the ground and then you realize it didn't happen and you're relieved but still a little terrified. Yeah, that happens to me a lot, but I never seem to learn my lesson or take any steps to prevent the catastrophe that will definitely someday happen. So to salute those who are proactive in their life choices, I decided to share some of the huge mistakes I know are going to happen someday in my own life.

Texting my friends. I frequently screenshot stupid things I see on Facebook. It could be someone I know, a complete stranger, whatever. Then I take these screenshots and send them to my friend. Sometimes boldly circling whatever ridiculous thing made me screenshot it in the first place and I might even throw a mean ass comment on there too. Well if you are familiar at all with cellular smartphones, you'll know that to send it you can just tap that little sideways V thing, the "share" symbol and hit text message. Well when you hit the share icon, a list of a bunch of apps pops up and you sometimes have to swipe down to get the the little text icon. I just KNOW in my heart, my cold, cruel, black heart that someday I am going to fuck up and hit either the Facebook or Pinterest or some other social media app and send that shit right into the world wide web. Everyone will know what a monster I really am and I will go back to only having 3 real life friends and I'll stop getting hella likes on my cool Facebook statuses. Which would make me sad. But more than that I would probably really hurt someone's feelings, which I don't want to do. That would also make me sad. (I understand I should just not say mean things at all and this would solve my problem but sometimes people are stupid and I need to share that with someone)

Snapchat. I think I have mentioned this before, I take some....interesting... snaps sometimes to send to my very close, very dear friends. But I am terrified one day I will accidentally send something completely inappropriate and mentally scaring to someone else on my list. I have actually sent a lot of snaps to the wrong people so this is "the most likely to happen" scenario. 10 seconds doesn't seem like that long, but believe me, it's long enough to make a terrible impact. TRUST.

Facebook. Specifically when I had myself as an admin for my work's Facebook page. When you are a page admin, you can choose to "use Facebook as" either your own account or your page account. I can totally see myself accidentally uploading a picture or posting a status on the wrong page and having a long and awkward talk with my boss and HR about appropriate social media behavior. This one I actually was proactive with and deleted myself as an admin. Look at me, making good choices. So proud.

Emotional driving. If I'm upset and I think for some reason I should be on the road, it's not good. I was really upset a couple weeks ago and was trying to drive, while ugly crying, nearly taking out several other vehicles and pedestrians. OBVIOUSLY it was their fault for being on the road when I was clearly so upset. It was bad. I couldn't see, my brain forgot how to use pedals, driving with reckless abandon because I didn't care what happened. I know I'm selfish but I promise next time I'll just pull over and cry like a freak outside someone's residence while they watch from their picture window and tell their children to "go hide, there's a crazy person/raccoon hybrid sobbing in our driveway."

Searching weird stuff on the Internet. Even though I know everyone does this, I still feel like the worse thing that could ever happen is if your search history suddenly went public. Sure, we would all be unable to look each other in the eye for a few days but I feel like it would be several weeks...months before anyone would talk to me again. For example, a few months ago the husband and I went out to dinner and a concert with my bestie and her husband. The conversation turned slightly awkward when somehow cannibalism was brought up and I immediately began reciting what I had read humans tasted like. Apparently googling "what does human flesh taste like?" is not as common as I had assumed it would be. Answer: The taste has been compared to pork, only stronger. Other say it's closest to veal. At first, they thought I was kind of joking but then realized that I was serious and I felt a little uneasy, "You've...uhh..never googled it before?" I google a lot. And I frequent a website filled with user submitted content, if you just keep clicking you are bound to come across things that will amaze and disgust you. Such is life.

My lack of filter. I say a lot of weird, inappropriate shit. Then everyone gets uncomfortable and my brain is like, "Maybe you should follow that up with something even more weird and inappropriate so they realize it wasn't as bad as it could have been!" That sounds I go! And then I lose friends and any hint of respect they once had for me. I was watching Downton Abbey the other day and Lady Grantham said "Sybil, vulgarity is no substitute for wit." I just sat on the couch thinking "Daammnnn...Professor McGonagall just took me to school, son!"

I'll work on this in moderation. If I go cold turkey, my banter will be limited to a series of grunts and me pointing at things with a sad, defeated look on my face. I just have a vision of me being handcuffed, pleading, "It was a joke! I was kidding! There's actually only 3 bodies buried in my backyard! Har har har. I'm sorry I can't stop. I don't know what's wrong with me." As I am shown into the back of a police car.
So as you can see, my terrible decisions will someday lead to my imprisonment, life as a social pariah or death. I should probably be more concerned but my exaggerated sense of well being reminds me nothing bad can ever happen to me. Horray!
Thanks for reading, I appreciate you and I think you're very nice.