Saturday, September 3, 2011

In other news, my life is still ridiculous...

Psst... I moved.

Also, I blogged. See you on the other site?

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

I'm not really sure why I thought this was a good idea

BUT. At some point between 11PM and 1 AM, I decided "you know what I need? I need more distractions! I need MORE WORK TO DO! I need my own website!"

And so. Here it is: Check me out at my new place.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Why do people go to BlogHer? {The picture heavy addition}

Somebody asked me why I go to BlogHer. I go for some of the same reasons that most people go. To network, my blog is tiny, but I love it. This year, I even went to a session or two. AND, I went to the convention hall. While I am not REALLY the kind of blogger that this event markets to (I'm not having another baby, not even for more swag), there were companies whose products I was actually interested in.

But for me, it's also about:
 Taking awkward pictures with friends that I haven't seen in a while.

And dancing so long/hard that I had to take off my fabulous (hot pink) shoes. (Pro tip: If you're going to wear  4 and 1/2 inch heels, MAKE SURE YOU BREAK THEM IN FIRST)

And sometimes it IS about cake. Fabulous, awesome, SPARKLECORN cake!
I wore this special for @emmiej
And wearing shirts that say FUCK, that end up disqualifying me from taping a 2 minute video from Hillshire Farms because APPARENTLY my shirt is inappropriate, and they like to keep it PG-13.

 It's about Aiming Low parties, where they have those words that you can put together to say weird things. (My contribution: This isn't about chest hair. Which. OBVIOUSLY. Hopefully the lady bloggers at BlogHer weren't having TOO many issues with chest hair)
It's about taking pictures of the random things you find because I DON'T CARE WHO YOU ARE, THIS IS FUNNY. (And she was too. And nice. Apparently there are REALLY nice people in Arizona, not just tumbleweeds.)

It's about dragging newbies along for the ride, and forcing them to get a twitter handle, and then telling them that HAI, I'm a blogger. All pictures that I take run the risk of being posted on the internet.

And about the end of the weekend, where after a weekend of hanging with all the friends who live in your computer, you have these stickers to show for it (FYI: Both penis stickers were given to me. They are both true. But. So is the one that says I'm awesome. Because I totally am.)

And it's about already planning next year's trip, to do it all over again. Hilton, I hope you're ready.

Sunday, July 31, 2011

A Moment with The Brat

Me: I'm on the way to the commissary. You want anything?

Brat: Can you bring me back some mandingo cherries?

Me: *blink*  Umm...NO. But I can bring you some MARASCHINO cherries. I'm pretty sure your dad doesn't want me to bring back any mandingos. 

The Man: Not at all.

Me: Also, Brat? When you get a chance, google mandingo.

I swear to you, these are REAL CONVERSATIONS that happen in my house.

**Also? I texted this conversation to her aunts, while laughing so hard I cried.

***But then I thought that this was too funny not to share. So here you go. 

****You're welcome.

Friday, July 29, 2011

In case I never told you

It was fun.
I loved hanging out with you, giggling over inside jokes, doing ridiculous things like headstands in hotel rooms. Oscar Movie Madness, and happy hours, and Vegas trips. Loud ghetto laughs at inappropriate moments, Super Secret Trips of Awesome, surprise parties, BBQ's, karaoke, and marathon movie nights. Just Dance competitions, 2AM texts, and I Spy. Picture booths, water gun wars, and concerts. Helping me get pictures with rock stars. ESPECIALLY THIS.

Thank you.
For not judging me. Much. Even when I was obnoxious. Or weird. For lending me money, helping me clean. For your helpful assvice. For giving me a shoulder to cry on, or crying with me, when I needed it. For just being there when I didn't want to talk. For knowing when I needed what. For being honest with me. For sticking up for me when I couldn't/didn't do it for myself. For standing behind me looking all menacing and shit when I started popping off at the mouth. For loving me.

I'm sorry.
For hurting your feelings. Sometimes, I don't think before I speak. OR. I can be too blunt. Or mean, impatient, inconsiderate. I'm human. For getting so caught up in my life that I didn't call to see if you were okay. Or if you needed me. I can be selfish, and easily distracted. I wish that I had spent more time with you. I wish that I could take back that thing I said/did that hurt you.

I am blessed to have family and friends such as you. I have known you forever, and not quite as long. I met you when I was 5 years old, at work, walking to the bus stop, randomly, over the internets. I didn't know how fast we would click, how easily we would fall into friendship, how tightly we would hold on to each other. But I'm glad we did. I love you for loving me the way I am, for being able to read me like a book even when I haven't said a word. For being able to cheer me up when I haz a sad. For telling me things I need to hear, whether or not I wanted to hear them, sometimes without you even knowing it. I love you for being you.

If I never get the chance to say good-bye to you. I just wanted you to know today.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

You need to fill in your own blanks

People are always asking me what I do when I go to Vegas, because every single time I go, I always have THE BEST. TIME. EVER. So may I present to you, my Saturday in Vegas. With all the stuff that's fit to print.


Me and the two ladies I went to Vegas with had massages scheduled at Reliquary Spa at Hard Rock. We got an excellent deal on TravelZoo. It came with additional body scrub. Ladies, (and gentlemen, if you like to get massages), GET THE BODY SCRUB. It was awesome, I felt all buffed and polished before she massaged all my knots and aches and pains. I forgot to bring a bathing suit, BUT. Luckily there was a bathing suit optional/ women only section that had a wet sauna and a jacuzzi, both of which I partook. Several hours later, when we finally left the spa area we went over to Johnny Smalls for tapas. I should mention, this is the PERFECT PLACE FOR ME TO EAT. Because I can never finish a plate of food. I got to try a little bit of everything without having to commit to a whole meal.

After which, we finally threw on our suits and headed down to the pool for some fun in the sun. We spent a few hours hanging out before we decided to change into our fancy night clothes and hit the casino for dinner/gambling/more drinking.

My friend found out a friend of hers was in Vegas the same weekend we were, so we met them at Blush, at the Wynn. We hung out with my friend's friends (who for the remainder of this post will be known as MFF). Who had a table. One of the friend had fallen asleep. And then he woke up and ______________. A lot. And then he _____________again. And then we did some dancing, and had a few drinks. And then ______________________. And then the waitress came over and she ______________________.  And told us_____________.

So we all piled into cabs and went to __________. More table service. More bottles of Vodka. More shots. And then___________________asked if MFF _____________ . So we (the girls & I) went upstairs to ___________. (!) OMG, you guys ______________________________________! And then _______________________________________________________. MFFs _________________. And we  _____________________________________________. 

After that we (the girls & I) went/ stumbled back to our room at The Hard Rock (which, you guys, I upgraded to a fancier room.. And the view was AWESOME.) around 5AM. But I was hungry so I _______________________, while they _______________________. Around 6AM, I saw the sun rising, so  I went to bed.   Because in a few hours, we were going to get up and _____________.

Yeah, there's not a lot that's fit to print, is there? What do you want from me, people? What happens in Vegas is supposed to STAY in Vegas. I can't very well, fill in ALL the blanks.

At least you know I had a good time at the Spa.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

And this is why I need to never be single

I went out with my cousin last night.

I hadn't really planned on it. I had actually planned to go home, and you know... be responsible and study. BUT. I was going to a place called Big Wangs. Who turns down going to Big Wangs? Not me, apparently.

It was fun. She works with cops, and they were a nice bunch. I didn't want to say "Fuck the Police" not even once.

She's single. And I'm not. WHICH. I DO NOT HAVE A PROBLEM WITH. I feel like that needs to be said in all caps, in case anyone is not paying attention. I mostly like my husband. But even when I don't, I still want him around.

Anyhoots. Back to my story. So we have some drinks, eat some wings (and hot DAMN, they were good!). One of the guys bought a round of drinks for the table. The cousin was being chatted up, so I was playing wingman...talking to the drinkbuyer guy. When not texting pictures of my ridiculousness.

It should be noted that I don't see myself as irresistible. Nor do I assume that every guy that talks to me is trying to get into my pants.

Drinkbuyer guy wants to know what I'm taking pictures of, and I show him. Because, why not? Pictures of my drinks, gratuitous pictures of myself, random look-at-my-cute-baby-kitties pictures. Whatever. Like you don't take pictures of your pets. So then he asks if I have any other pictures? Nope. Just got a new memory card.

I think I missed what he was actually asking for...

Because THEN he says, why don't you go into the bathroom and take some pictures?


Uhh...the fuck? Hell no. What's wrong with you?

Apparently THAT was offensive. Because then he told me I should go home to my husband. Um. I will. Don't worry.

Which leads me to ask...WTF is wrong with people? Why would a perfect stranger think it's okay to ask somebody they just met who wasn't even pretending to be interested, AND, told you she was married... AND? Doesn't seem like some Slutty McSkankypants, to go into a sports bar bathroom and take sexytime pictures for random dude, i.e. NOT HER HUSBAND? I mean, yes, I've been married a REALLY. LONG. TIME. But...why is this okay?

My assumptions for these types of situations is that it must have worked at some point with somebody (and if I ever find out who, I will kick her right in the taco), because why else would he ask? I know what they say about assuming, but still.

How about instead of asking strangers to show you pictures of their chocha, you find an AVAILABLE woman, and get to know her, and take her on dates and shit (because bitches like dates and shit), and THEN, after you and she are in some sort of relationship, you tell your SIGNIFICANT OTHER TYPE PERSON to go into random sports bar bathroom and take sexytime pictures? Because then it's you keeping spice in your relationship! And being adventurous!

Not pervy and weird. Or assholey and gross. Or any of the other thousand of offensive adjectives that was.