Wednesday, September 29, 2010

The Pubeard

I coined a new word today and was so pleased with myself I submitted it to Urban Dictionary:

Submission under review

Your entry is under review by editors.
When a dude grows a beard, but it really just ends up looking scraggly and nasty, as if he had 
grown pubes on his chin instead of a manly beard. (Pronounced: pew-beard)
Dude, did you see the pubeard on John? He needs to shave that nasty shit right now!
tags: [pubes], [beard], [scraggly], [chin hair]
I want to include a picture of the beard that inspired it but I have a feeling it might get back to him so I will not. Just Google 'pubes for beard' if you want a visual. 

Happy Hump Day! 

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Ways I Could Have Been a Child Prodigy

Justin and I are a bit out of touch when it comes to things on tv because we don't have cable. We were paying all this money for something we never used, so we canceled it. Therefore we're not privy to all the latest tv shows and reality star sensations (I still have only seen one clip from Jersey Shore - Snooki getting punched in the face).

However, Justin regularly trolls youtube for good videos, and he showed me the video below of a little girl named Jackie Evancho. If you already have heard of her, then good for you. But if you haven't heard her sing, watch this video:

That is insane. Crazy insane. Howie creepily asks her in one of the clips I saw if she "swallowed an adult." I get what he's asking here, but perhaps he could have phrased differently....? Anyway, she's incredible and I'm so jealous... I've always wanted to be able to sing.

But she got me thinking - if I were to be a child prodigy, what would I have been prodigious at? I came up with the following:

AMOUNT OF TIME SPENT SLEEPING - My mom says I was probably the only child who would sleep until noon on Christmas Day if she let me.

Justin is the only person I know who can sleep more than me

AMOUNT OF FOOD THAT I COULD EAT - And it led to childhood obesity. Yay!
I still look like that when I eat

TIME SPENT DIGGING FOR GOLD - And then I wiped my finger on my bed.
My mom permed my bangs when I was little. It looked effing retarded.

LENGTH AND TONE OF BURP -I practiced my burps so that I could stretch them out and make them as loud as possible because my mom hated it. My dad still tells me he regrets teaching me how to burp on command.
This has only gotten finer with age

That is all. 

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Cakerday! A Baby Shower Cake

So I suppose I should probably live up to my name sake and post some pictures here and there for when I am too   (insert appropriate response (busy, lazy, hungover, tired, bitchy, whatevery) to post something more interesting or humorous.

This week my excuse is school. It starts today (in a few hours) and I'm extremely nervous. First of all, I've never been on a real campus because my first degree was earned at "satellite" branches. I have to ride buses around campus and I have never done this before either (other than trips I've taken for school where it just takes you from one spot to another, no routing necessary). Second of all, I am waaaaay older than the other kids, or at least I was at orientation/convocation on Monday. I know I'm not that old, but I felt it then; I hope that there are students my age or older in my classes. Third of all, I feel like there is just SO MUCH stuff I need to do / be aware of / learn / understand about the 'college experience' that I didn't give a crap about before. I feel a lot of pressure to make sure that I really do well this time around. Anyway... on to a story about cakes:

I sometimes do cakes on the side for friends and family. I've worked for various bakeries and I've worked for a nationally recognized cake decorator (albeit for like a month because she made me a baker, which I don't really enjoy, and I had a second job at the time). I got my start decorating cakes here:

 Good 'ol Big Bear. You would not believe how hard I had to look to find a decent picture (thanks Wikipedia). I have pictures of myself goofing off working here from almost a decade ago but I can probably write a few stories about the joys of Big Bear employment so maybe I'll include them later. I'm glad it closed down, because I probably would never have been motivated to get another job. That's how much I loved it here.

Anyway, I digress. Here's my cake for Cakerday. I feel that I need a theme day but since I am lazy and sporadic about posting Cakerday will just be any day I feel like it. SO there.

This might be one of my favorite cakes. It was a "beach themed baby shower cake for twin boys" done for a girl I graduated with from high school. I was totally terrified because it is extremely easy to make fondant/gumpaste babies that will give you nightmares, but I think mine turned out pretty non-alarming. Really, what would you do if you ordered a baby shower cake and these were on it?

Congrats on giving birth - sorry your baby has no eyes!
This baby is moaning in delight!
Variation on the baby shower cake - Mummified baby!

What, you don't like dead baby jokes?

Come play with meee....
I bet his finger lights up and he flies over the moon in a bicycle basket too.

* My apologies to the creators of these cakes, I hope that you're not too offended. Lord knows I've turned out shitty-looking cakes and fondant creations too. All the time in fact. But honestly, these babies are just a tad disturbing.

The cake was hard, I freaked out over it a few times, I may have shed some tears or done some screaming at the boyfriend, but it got finished. Then after it was delivered and completely set up the palm tree fell over backward and took out a huge chunk of the back.... ftw. Here it is in all its final glory though. Enjoy!

Finished cake... resolution on this pic sucks.
Note the blue frosting on the palm frond? That's from the spill down the back of the cake.

Friday, September 17, 2010

Our Halloween 2009 Story

I love Halloween. I am kind of obsessed with it. Since I have gotten older and had to do things like get a job and take on responsibilities and pay bills, I haven’t been able to do as much for the holiday as I would like to. However I’m starting to see Halloween stuff for sale and it reminded me of this little story from last year:

I do this thing called ‘corpsing.’ It involves buying one of those anatomical skeletons you saw in science or anatomy classes and then making it appear to be a rotting corpse. They look awesome, and very real. Three of the skeletons I made last year:

PS – they’re for sale too, *hint *hint*

Pretty realistic looking right? The pictures don’t even really do them justice.

So for Halloween last year I went as a zombie. Justin went as Ash from Living Dead (and was all pissy because no one knew who he was).

On Friday the 30th, I get a text from Justin saying that he and his coworkers are going to Hooters for some beers and I should join, so after our office Halloween party, which my corpses attended, I hopped in the car and drove my living-dead ass over to Hooters. We have beers and eats. We also have a house party at 10:00pm in Columbus that we’re supposed to attend and Justin forgot the directions at work, so we drive over and park in the back by the loading dock and warehouse.

We’re there for maybe 15 minutes puttering around when we get hungry and go up front to raid the fridge for whatever food remained from the Halloween potluck party. While I’m up there, I suddenly see headlights flashing in the windows. It’s perfectly okay for us to be here, but I still freak out. Justin goes up front and peeks around the corner and sees that it is the Po-Po. Commence shitting of pants.

Justin tells me that it’s no big deal, they occasionally check out the buildings. This calms my fears for the moment, until we go back into the lab (where he works). We’re getting ready to leave when suddenly we hear the door banging around, like someone is trying to open it. Re-commence shitting of pants.

We go into the warehouse and stand there staring at the twisting doorknob. After a few moments of debate (including turning the lights on, then back off, for some reason) Justin finally opens the door – to two officers with their guns drawn. This of course was terrifying for us, but imagine the face-full they got of Justin and I, standing in a dark warehouse.

They immediately start barking at us – “Who are you!? Do you work here? Do you have proof that you work here? What are you doing here!?”

They separate us; one cop takes Justin to her car and the other cop stands out front of my car with me. To make a long story short, here are the events that unfolded that led to cops drawing their guns on us, then separating and interrogating us:

-         We were not the only ones that came back to the office. Two other sets of people had gone back at separate times, turned off the alarm, then re-armed it (just like we had). By the time we got there, the alarm had been turned off, then armed - three times. The security company called the police, thinking this was a little fishy.

-         The Columbus police show up, not really thinking that anything was going on. However, they drive around back and see a single car parked in the back. The hood of the car is still warm, so they know someone is in the building.

-         They notice the cargo in my trunk – two rotting fucking dead bodies. Justin also had a toy shotgun lying in the back seat. He spray painted that little orange thingy on the end black – you know, the one that designates the gun as a toy? What would you think if you saw these things through the tinted windows of a car, strewn half way out of the truck across the back seat?
That is half a real coffin, btw. I have two.

Yeah. That’s what they thought. The cop said to me, “I’ve seen a few dead bodies in my day. Normally these calls are just false alarms, but I actually thought that we might have something going on tonight.”

They let us go without any problems. Any beer buzz that I had worked my way up to had long since deserted me, and thank God, because they sat in their car until we drove away.

Moral of the story: I haven’t a clue. But it’s solid proof that my skeletons are awe-sem.


Friday, September 10, 2010

Adventures with Bums: Crackhead Bum

So last August Justin and I were looking around at places for me (hah!) to live, and I made an appointment to check out this double that was close to a park. We were in the area early so we got some coffee, bought some books, and decided to hang out in the park until it was closer to our appointment. It was a beautiful day, we were in a good mood, all happy and shit.

I was sort of paying attention, sort of not, but I hear some guy talking really loudly on a cell phone, walking towards us sort of (on a path). It kept getting louder until I realized that the man was very close and I look up to see a bum, crawling towards me on his hands and knees, diseased finger extended towards me, with one eye looking at me and the other pointing the opposite direction. Turns out it was not a gentleman talking on his cell phone, it was a crazy fucking crack head talking to himself. And now he was talking to us.

This picture does not do him justice


This seems like a threat. Using my catlike reflexes, I sit there and stare stupidly at him. Justin looks up a moment later, just in time for crack head to repeat his question.


Justin: “Uh, excuse me?”

Crack head: “Are yew good pee-pole?”

Justin: “Yeah man… we’re good people.”

Me: Continues to stare like a deer in headlights.

Conversation in which MC Crack head questions us about who we are, what our names are, where we’re from, and whether or not we read the bible ensues. He then proceeds to tell us about how he knows everyone in German Village, then points to random people and tells us their names and whether they’re nice or not. He tells us about his rich brother. He tells us about how he already smoked a crack rock today and drank two forties (it’s approximately 3:00pm), and “God willing, I’ma smoke another crack rock and drink two mah forties!”
You say crack??

Then things start to get interesting. Mind you – this crackhead is still on his hands and knees, eye level, close enough for us to smell the malt liquor and the inside of White Castle’s dumpster.

Crackhead: “Hey Justin?”

Justin: “Yeah?”

Crackhead: “Are you rich Justin?”

Justin: *laughs* “No man, I’m not -”


Neither of us have cash. I seriously would have given him two bucks and a stick of gum to get him to go away. At this point he’s been hovering for approximately 10 minutes. That’s a long fucking time to be pondering how a man whose eyes are looking in different directions will strangle you.

Now things are starting to get ugly. He tells us about how he just got arrested. He had been harassing people at a nearby bar and when cops arrived to ask him to leave he threw his forty up in the air so it smashed on the sidewalk. He told us this himself, I am not making this shit up. He’s starting to get pissed.

He then starts telling us that all the people here are assholes. He starts looking around screaming things like, “Fuckers! They’re fuckers!” and “Fucking assholes! Goddamn fucking assholes!” and “Motherfucking assholes!”

He finally gets up and wanders away, still while screaming obscenities. We sit there staring after him, and then stare at each other, totally mind-fucked after 20 minutes of this. I somehow release the blanket I have sucked up with my rectum.

We both feel oddly sick.

The fun and games don’t end here though. Fast forward three weeks. We signed a lease on a house and were moving in less than a week. I oh-so-intelligently think to look up the sex offender listings for the area. Yes, AFTER signing a lease. I am shocked to see that there are 9 sex offenders within a 0.5 mile radius. I am even MORE shocked when I expand the radius to two miles and three more offenders pop up. Guess who made the list???

Yep. The fucking crackhead. A Tier III sexual offender, no less, and his address is listed as Schiller Park. I spent most of the morning today pouring over the website trying to find this guy’s picture. I am heartbroken to admit that I scanned through 1,308 sex offender pictures (registered in Columbus alone, ladies!) and did not find him. He’s either dead or he was shipped out of Columbus.

After I sharted my pants and showed Justin he looked up his court records and I shit you not – our friend had been arrested on the day we met him in the park for attempted battery. This crazy fuck probably wandered away from us, pissed as hell, and assaulted someone else.

About two months into our lease Justin saw him getting arrested and put into the back of a car by a gas station. We haven’t seen him since. Lord knows though, he will be missed.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

A List of the Different Types of Assholes

CAUTION: This entry is littered with expletives.

I’m sure you’re aware that the highways are comprised of assholes. They’re all around you. You might be an asshole yourself, and maybe you realize it, maybe you don’t. This usually isn’t that bad, with the exception being morning rush hour and evening rush hour. People who aren't usually even assholes TURN IN to assholes, just for this commute. It is an infuriating and intensely frustrating time of the day for me. I’ve comprised a short list of the assholes that you will encounter during your drive to and from work:

1.)          The No Turn-Signal Asshole – This is a huge pet peeve of mine, especially when it is practiced during bumper to bumper traffic. I’ll be cruising along and all of a sudden these assholes will dart over in front of me, causing me to slam on my brakes, and the guy behind me to nearly hit me. I would have to say that some of these assholes are a product of dealing with Won’t Let You Merge Assholes, but there is no reason for this. Put your turn signal on and wait until you see a spot. SOMEONE will let you over. There is no need for you to dart in and out of line without letting others know you’re doing it; we're going to figure that shit out at some point. That’s probably why your car is so fucking wrecked. Oh yeah, I know how to spot you.

2.)          The Going 15 Miles Under the Speed Limit in the Passing Lane Asshole – These schmucks are probably my most abhorred asshole. At 7:30 in the morning, why are you taking a leisurely fucking drive to work? I’m trying to go the speed limit AT A MINIMUM, yet you want to toodle along doing 50, enjoying the concrete view on either side of the highway. Not only are you taking your sweet-ass time, you’re IN THE PASSING LANE. GET THE FUCK OUT. I’m actually trying to get to work on time, and I didn’t leave three hours prior to my start time because I slept in late because I was out drinking the night before! If you want to really stretch out that lovely commute as long as possible so you have time to really enjoy your fellow assholes every single morning, that’s fine. Just get the fuck out of the way when someone wants to actually pass other cars. I know that concept is foreign. That far right lane is where you belong, not anywhere near the center median.

3.)          The Won’t Let You Pass Asshole – These people have some sort of control problem. They want to go whatever speed they're going, but they get fucking crazy if you decide you want to go faster. The second these assholes see you approaching in their mirrors it is GAME ON. They’ve got a death-grip on the wheel and they pretend they’re not checking their mirrors every few seconds to get a gauge on how fast you’re going so they can match your speed and prevent you from getting in front of them. They don’t really want to go faster, they just do what it fucking takes to keep you behind them. I'd bet money this manifests itself in other aspects of their shit personality as well.

4.)          The Won’t Let You Merge Asshole – I want to ram these people off the road. I actually changed the route I took to work to avoid the entrance ramp from Parson’s Avenue to 71N. Anyone outside of Columbus Ohio has no clue what I’m talking about, but believe me, the engineer who designed that fucked up ramp should have his brains scooped out with a spoon via his eye sockets. These assholes are on a MISSION and putting a foot on the brake to allow someone to join them on the highway is out of the fucking question. They get pissed that you’re even THERE, let alone asking to be let into THEIR lane. Assholes. 

5.)          The Slows Way Down 2 Miles Before His/Her Exit Asshole – These assholes are hugely responsible for all that stopped right lane traffic. Granted, sometimes you’re trying to get off the exit and the number of cars has just overwhelmed the traffic light, but there is absolutely no need for you to take it down to cozy 40mph as you’re approaching your exit. You get enough of these assholes in a row and they ride bumper to bumper so then the totally sane non-assholes get stuck behind them going slow as hell because they know they can’t do the ACTUAL speed limit until they reach the exit because there are SURE to be Won’t Let You Merge Assholes sprinkled in there as well. Slow down once you are OFF THE HIGHWAY if at all possible. Otherwise GO THE FUCKING SPEED LIMIT as long as you can possibly stand it.

6.)          The Up Your Ass Asshole – If I am guilty of being an asshole, this is the asshole that I’m guilty of being. I’m usually this asshole because of something some other asshole did to piss me off, but mostly the Slow Assholes in the Passing Lane (#2). However, this irritates the shit out of me when it happens to me. If I am in the passing lane and someone wants to go faster, I get the fuck over. But when someone comes up on me while I’m in the center lane and they have a totally clear lane to pass me but instead choose to nuzzle up to my literal asshole, that pisses me off.  I also hate this in slow moving traffic (i.e. some accident probably cause by No Turn Signal Asshole or Weaving Like a Maniac Asshole) and the person behind me has to make sure they are in every square inch of road going forward that I am not occupying. I also repeatedly see the ass end of their car bob up in the air when they slam on their brakes because they’re not paying attention when I have to stop again.

7.)          The Weaving Like a Maniac Asshole – These assholes think they’re hot shit. They probably drive a rice burner with a giant exhaust and bolted on wing, and they're definitely speeding because their POS is badass and they want everyone to hear their whiny lawn-mower engine. Or maybe they’re a rich yuppie driving a Boxter drinking their grande double espresso shot non-fat no whip latte, on their way to their high-profile important job that demands constant speed. Regardless, these assholes are more important than YOU, and they’re definitely fucking smarter, so they’re going to whip in and out of traffic, speeding up to 90 only to slam on their brakes at the last minute or cut someone off (these assholes are also always No Turn-Signal Assholes). This is the only time I can condone #8 – The Driving Next to Another Car so No One Can Pass Asshole.
They're probably driving a car that looks a lot like this

8.)          The Driving Next to Another Car so No One Can Pass Asshole – These assholes travel in packs, so watch out for them. These are those assholes that all drive side by side so that no one can pass them from any lane. It doesn’t matter how long you slip into Up Your Ass Asshole mode, these shitheads are content to drive with a  neighbor and don’t give a damn that there is no traffic in front of them – where you’d like to be. These people kind of boggle my mind, because they couldn’t actually all be from the same place. One of them had to actually increase their speed in order to get into proper alignment. Maybe they just had to wait until the time was right to find some other asshole to clog up the road with. These assholes are also frequently Slow Driving Assholes, and that my friends, is a lethal combination. There is no fucking WAY you’re getting to work on time!

That for now concludes my description of the various assholes you will encounter. Rest assured that I know there are many more assholes, and they also vary within their groupings. Sometimes there are numerous types of assholes. You just never know. The only thing you can count on is that they are all around you. 

* All pictures are mine, with the exception of the awesome car picture that I found after Googling "Worst car modifications ever."

Friday, September 3, 2010


If you know me personally or are on my facebook page you may or may not know that I recently applied to go back to school. I already have my undergrad in Business Administration, but I realized approximately 3 years into the 6 it took me to get the damn degree that it probably wasn’t for me. Like a fool, I just kept pressing onward. Now that attitude is coming back to bite me in the ass at the ripe freshman age of 26. I recently read an article stating that this year’s incoming freshmen were born in 1992.

Jesus. Christ.

All shuddering and thoughts about impending ‘who’s that old lady?’ stank-eye stares aside, I’m going back to attempt to get into THE Ohio State University’s Visual Communications program. It is extremely competitive – only 18 students are admitted each year - and I will not find out until midway into the second quarter whether or not I am accepted into the program. If not, I can apply NEXT December, but if I don’t get accepted then, it’s over. You get two shots and you’re out of luck. This makes me very nervous.

I do have some background in art, but I am a bit afraid that it’s not going to be enough. I drew prolifically as a child, and I am very much a right-brainer, but interestingly enough I did not think you could actually make art a career if you wanted to have money, not eat out of trashcans, and not live in a discarded refrigerator box. Soooo I did like every Midwest suburban high-school graduate who has no fucking clue what they want to do with their life and really don’t believe the future will ever arrive – I went into Business.

I just don’t think all those years of drawing classes as a kid or young teen and the handful of classes I took in high school or the one class I took in college are going to prepare me to compete with the kids that knew out of the gate this is what they wanted to do and have been drawing regularly. I haven’t drawn shit in a long time.

I was still feeling semi-confident since I already have a degree and work experience and a pretty decent hand that I could get in to the program, but now that I’m researching designers (as part of the exam) I feel pretty stupid and insignificant. I’m just concerned that I’m not creative enough. I guess I’ll let you know by February or March