The Hot Mess Chronicles

A Few More Things

2011-08-31T11:32:00.000-07:00

Hey Everbudi.

It has been over a month since my last post, and I know a lot of you came here thinking I finally fucking got around to doing something amusing, but alas.

I just wanted to say two things:

1.) Today is my blog's first birthday. It is exactly on this date one year ago that I drew a picture and posted a blog. It's super fucking boring, but if you want to read it, here's a link.

2.) My coworker who is a mechanic and kinda relies on his ability to stand to make a living had a really bad accident at work yesterday. A PVC airline exploded out in the back behind the shop and pretty much decimated his left leg - apparently it blew a edit: it's a 2" hole (not a 1/2" like I originally wrote) through his skin and muscle and snapped a 6" piece of bone out between his knee and shin. Pretty fucking fucked up. He's not going to be able to use it for 8 - 12 months, which is probably not good since he's into the whole manual labor thing.

The kicker (HAHA I MAKE FUNNY PUN) is that he was about to leave for lunch but before he left he took Kaiser out back to use the restroom. While he was standing out there waiting the line exploded and took his grizzled old ass out. He handled it like a boss while he waited for the squad to arrive and I'm sure it didn't feel real good.

We're about to go to the hospital to visit him, so I made him this card to hang on his wall for him to admire until he's discharged. That's his motorcycle; he rode it in yesterday and obviously did not ride it home so we're keeping it in the garage.

Anyway, do me a favor and say a prayer, send up good vibes, do a rain dance - whatever it is you subscribe to - that his leg gets fixed and he's back on his feet and back in the garage being a pain in the ass ASAP. Leave him a nice comment and next week I'll print it off and take it to him so he knows he's got a bunch of support.

Edit: If you're one of those sick bastards that can handle gross photos, here are some pictures of his leg that I'm republishing with his permission of course.

Please be forewarned - if you can't handle blood, woods, gore, or anything of the kind, you might not want to check these out. They're cleaned up but they're still not the easiest thing to look at.

View of hole
Hole and leg (note the stitches on knee and shin where metal rod was place)
Picture of thigh after skin graft (graft used to up cover hole in leg)

Spanks guys :-)

Overreactions Are Fun

2011-07-28T14:02:00.000-07:00

First things first:

I'm sorry that it takes me so long to make these. I know some of you start getting antsy, but frankly I am a.) lazy, b.) actually working now, and c.) lazy and it takes me forever to get these done. You can expect one every.... iunno, two to three weeks. I have basically no inspiration and I have to wait for something stupid to happen before I can write about it. Quality over quantity. Well, somewhat quality.

This is a conversation I had two weeks ago with a guy from the vet hospital I take Kaiser to. The gist is that Kaiser needed to get his stomach tacked (i.e. a 'gastropexy') to help prevent death if he bloats, and I wanted to get his hips x-rayed because he seems to be standing weird and it's making me nervous. Large breed dogs can develop hip dysplasia right around a year and a half of age (which is what Kaiser is) and if you don't know anything about it let me just tell you that it's bad. And expensive.

So, this is me calling up the hospital... beep boop beep boop beep.

Douchefuck: Blankity blank vet hospital?

Me: Hey, I have a Great Dane named Kaiser and I want to get him set up for an x-ray and/or orthopedic evaluation because he's been standing strangely. Also, I want to set up an appointment to get his stomach tacked. When I was there last time the doctor told me they can probably do an x-ray for his hips while he is in surgery for a stomach tacking?

Uh.... okay. You said gastropexy and neuter?

No, he's been neutered. I want to get his stomach tacked and his hips x-rayed because I'm concerned that he might have hip dysplasia. His trot and walk are fine, but he stands with his hips turned out at an awkward angle and I just want to get him checked to make sure nothing is going on.

Oh, okay, well most people get the gastropexy and the neuter at the same time.

He's already been neutered. A year ago.

Ah. Well you'll have to make two separate appointments because the soft tissue surgery and the orthopedics will require two separate appointments.

I had him in there about two weeks ago for eye surgery and the doctor told me they could probably do the gastropexy and then x-ray his hips while he was unconscious.

No, it'll require two separate appointments. The gastropexy we can do next week but the orthopedic is going to be out until.... August 4th. He'll also be here for three days.

I'm sorry, three days? Is that for the gastropexy or the x-ray...?

Yes, the gastropexy; all surgeries are typically three days, appointment the first day, surgery the next day, goes home the third day.

Huh, well I just had him in for eye surgery and he came home the same day?

Yeah, no, it's three days.

Okay, well that's fine. Can we set that up?

Sure.... okay, so the gastropexy and the neuter, we have July 25th available, 10:45am or 11:15am?

Just the gastropexy surgery. He was neutered last year. I'd like the 11:15am appointment please.

Okay. You're all set.

Can I also set up an appointment now to get an orthopedic evaluation? If it's not available until next month I'd like to just set it up now.

Yes, but that's not available until August 4th.

That's fine, lets go ahead and set it up now because I noticed the hip thing about two weeks ago and I want to get them checked out to make sure nothing is going on.

Okay, has he been to blankity blank hospital before?

.....Yes, he was there two weeks ago for eye surgery.

Oh okay. What's your name?

Brewster.

What's your last name?

BREWSTER.

What's the dog's name?

Kaiser
Side note: HOW THE FUCK DID HE MAKE AN APPOINTMENT FOR THE GASTROPEXY IF HE
DIDN'T KNOW THIS ALREADY?

Okay, we've got a 10:45 on August 3rd.

10:45 on August third? Because you said fourth a minute ago.

Yes, the third.

Okay, that's fine.

Okay, so he has an awkward gait you said?

No, his gait is fine. HE IS STANDING WEIRD.

Okay, so what's he doing?

He just stopped and one of his legs was turned out. Since this is about the time when they start developing Hip Dysplasia, I want to get him looked at.

Okay. I'm assuming this is a big dog?

YES, HE'S A GREAT DANE.

Yeah...... he could have Hip Dysplasia. Has anyone used that term with you yet?

YES. THAT'S WHY I WANT TO GET HIS HIPS X-RAYED.

Okay, I just want to make sure I'm writing this all down right. You know that's major surgery right? That's about a $4,000 surgery.

FML
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.
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You thought I was going to shoot Kaiser at first, didn't you?

Voluntary Vehicular Manslaughter

2011-06-30T10:09:00.000-07:00

I am pretty sure that I have road rage, guys.

It dawned on me last week as I was driving home and imagining swerving up onto the sidewalk or going through the stop sign and running over every smug bastard out jogging that maybe I have a problem. I mean, I can find someone to run over every time I drive my car anywhere. Even if I just drive somewhere in my neighborhood there are people that I want to run over.

Does anyone else feel this way or am I a complete psychopath?

Of course, I would never run anyone over. Well, I haven't yet.

On the "To Run-Over" List:

- People riding their bike in front of me when I'm trying to drive anyfuckingwhere.

- Pretty much anyone riding their bike

- Old people trying to cross the street that are really slow

- Smug bastards running or walking (yeah, look at you, exercising! Fuck you!)

- Little kids playing in the street (natural selection)

- People who take their sweet ass fucking time walking across the road when they see me coming

- People who walk across the street even when they don't have the 'Walk' sign because they know if I hit them I'm at fault no matter what

- People wearing yellow

source

- Construction workers who think because they're working in the road they fucking own it

- The cop that works the construction zone up the street from my house that fucking waves her arms nonstop and confuses me

- Bums on the side of the road

- Anyone collecting money for any cause in the middle of an intersection or roadway

And yes, that is the car I drive (well, it's a drawing of it). So if you see me coming please find a fucking sidewalk and get your ass to it.

I'm Officially a Dirty Hippy

2011-06-15T06:42:00.000-07:00

Haha just kidding. I totally drink out of plastic bottles and don't recycle them.

What I'm referring to is my 'camping trip.' What I actually did was go to Bonnaroo. I know I know, sorry for the deception, but I'm all like, "What if there's a crazy person that knows I'm leaving my house and knows where I live and wants to break into my house and wear my tampons as a hat?"

Not that I think any of you fine folks would actually do that, but if you follow me there is a possibility that you might be just a little off. Safety first!

Btw - When we got home we had to deal with this:

No idea how long that was like that. I bet my neighbors fucking loooooooooooove that. Well not these neighbors because they sleep during the day and crawl around like spiders at night.

I could probably write like 40 blog entries about Bonnaroo. Seriously, it was that fucking ridiculously crazy.

We can't get this in Ohio. We were really thrilled because basically all we did was get drunk.

If you don't know anything about Bonnaroo ~~look it up you fucking asshole!~~ I'll make a short list of ways to decide if you want to go or not.

You should go to Bonnaroo if:

You prefer to not shower for a week while simultaneously experiencing direct sunlight from 8:00am to 5:30pm, the most dust you've seen outside of grandma's panties, and 90+ degree weather.

You love to inhale dust and have black boogers

My leg isn't really that fat, it's a bad angle. I swear. I have nice legs.

You love to be accosted by hippies that walk around following the smell of weed so they can, "You know, make a trade, man."
You love to sleep on the ground in a tent that is over 100 degrees by 8:00am. Also, the tent leaks at night when it rains.

You love severe sunburns even though you put on an entire gallon of 50spf lotion
You love to smell yourself with the rankest BO you ever produced, as well as 500,000 OTHER people's BO.

You love to walk 20 fucking miles every day

You love to sit in your car for 5 hours waiting to get into the campground
You're one of those people that HAS to have bragging rights about going to such and such concert and seeing such and such band.
You love asking your neighbor to jump your truck and then realizing that he and his wife are in their car smoking some meth

You love to hear that same neighbor scream such things at his wife as: "You're a WHORE. No YOU'RE a piece of shit! I'm not the one sexting my BOYFRIEND while I'm on vacation with my HUSBAND." Then watch her throw cans at his head and run away. Yeah. Domestic abuse is SO MUCH FUN.
You enjoy sitting under a canopy for up to six hours because it's too goddamned hot to even move.

You love to sit on dirt a mile away from every band you could possibly want to see
You love having your only bathroom be a Porta John that sits and bakes in the sun all goddamned day and is filled with flies and used by other dirty hippies that aren't shy about shitting on the floor or pissing all over the toilet seat. Bonus points if you love not using toilet paper and waiting in line for 40 minutes to use the bathroom.

I'm sorry to any of you that read this and have gone to Bonnaroo and enjoyed it. ~~What the fuck were you thinking??~~ It was probably the worst thing I've ever done in my life.

Justin and I were talking about Aborigines (you know, like you do) on the way home and how they go on a "walkabout" or spiritual journey. I feel like Bonnaroo was my spiritual journey, my test of strength. I honestly thought I'd lose my mind and bludgeon Justin or some hapless hippy to death with the useless fan in our tent. You might say that I'm a tid bit high-maintenance, but I say I'm just too old to fucking want to do that shit ever fucking again. Basically, I learned that I'm a much tougher mo fo than I thought I was.

And much smellier too. I mean, I knew before that I could work up a mean case of BO, but I have washed my pits like four times with antibacterial soap and they STILL STINK.

Planning a Group Camping Trip

2011-06-02T08:57:00.000-07:00

Just as the title states, planning a group camping trip via email. Just for FYI, Jessica's nickname is Poopy so those names are exchangeable. Just to avoid confusion. As if that nickname isn't confusing.

Also, in case anyone hasn't figured it out my real name is Tara.

Click to enlarge if you can't make out the text.

Enjoy.

Guest Post: Nikki from My Cyber House Rules

2011-05-26T11:23:00.000-07:00

Holy. Crap. I finished the guest blog, and it's only Thursday. And I put in plenty of pictures, so all you people that were pissed off at me for the last post can love me and give me web traffic and cyber hugs again.

SO! This month's guest blog is from Nikki at My Cyber House Rules (and you might know her as Marr Bulls from Be the Doll...). She sent me this guest post like fifty nine years ago and I promptly pushed her out for Justin's guest post and then had a mental breakdown and didn't do shit on it. So now, finally, it is finished. I'm sorry it took a fucking eon, Nikki. I hope you like it. And I hope all you cupcakes like it too. You can find her original blog at My Homies Wear Depends and Smell Like Mothballs.

Next up on guest blogs: Mike "Awesome Guy McGee". I don't know if he wants me to put his last name out there on the interwebz and I don't know if he has a webpage. If he does I'll get it from him and you can see him for yourself. And..... scene.

Living at a marina is totally like living in a retirement home. All the homies are like... well - old. Older than I am anyways.

I take my daily shower at the pool since showering in the boat is a pain in the old buttocks (maybe I am older than I want to admit, yeah, sure...). Yesterday as I was skipping my way to the showers, I came to a slow crawl as some lady got to the door before me. So I had to slowly very slowly follow her in. She stopped when she sensed me "you are being followed" I chanted behind her. With a smile. But the smile was wasted on her behind.

source

She finally makes her way to the shower corridor. Finally. I'm dying behind her! And she opens the first stall and stands behind it.

Okaaaaay... I start putting my stuff on the counter. And slowly wonder what it could possibly mean if she opens the door and stands behind it. Is she "reserving" that stall for herself? Am I supposed to walk around the door to one of the next stalls?

I'm new here, and I've never seen anything like this before! So, I do what any uncertain person would do: "Are using the first stall?" She shutters, or stutters, or whatever it was. "No I just want privacy!" Okaaaaaaay... I take my clothes off, pile it up on the counter because the bench is now off limits being blocked by the door to the 1st stall. I hang up my towel by my door and enter the shower. Close the door. Wonder if it's ok to close it since now she is exposed to whatever it was she wanted privacy from.

Whatever.

I'm in my shower taking my sweet ass time because that's what I do. I love long hot showers. It dawns on me that I still haven't heard my neighbor start her shower yet. But... whatever. Then IT happens: her hand is clutching my door. (Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, I'm freaked out, what do I do???)

I stand frozen not knowing what the hell is happening. The shower door is one of those glazed over glass doors. Maybe it's Plexiglas, not important. What IS important is what she does next. She is still fully clothed and she is doing squats. Using my door for balance.

What the fuck? Where am I again?

Now I start taking even more time. Rinse. Apply again. Rinse. Condition. Leave in hair for 3-5 minutes. Pull out my cute little soap fuzzer thing (you should see it, it's a rubber ducky with a swim mask tied to a pooffer, I love it!) and pour some yummy smelling pink bubble gum soap on it (I know, this detail is not needed to the story, but if you ever do find some bubble gum smelling soap let me know, I want more of it and mine was a hotel sample).

By the time I am finally done she is still clutching and squatting. Up - down - up - down with her banana yellow t-shirt. What am I supposed to do? Yell out "watch your fingers" and slam the door open as I jump out and stand naked in front of her clamoring how privacy is so important to me too?

Really! WHAT is the public shower etiquette for old lady hanging on to your shower door as she does her morning exercises? Oh where is Martha Stewart when I need her? I slowly open the door, grab my towel and wrap it around me. (Sorry, no drawing for you... maybe next time *editor's note: here ya go:)

I take all my stuff out of the shower, and close the door. She huffs. Looks at me like I'm a total moron and a very rude one at that. And opens the door again. "My privacy! Remember?" And huffs again.

Not sure about the etiquette, but giggling in these situations? Totally unavoidable. Totally. Sorry Martha, you'd be astounded by my rudeness after you were done laughing at her too! Oh, and let me tell you I took even more time after that! By now this is fun as she is OBVIOUSLY waiting for me to leave before she unveils her spectacular self. Privacy-shmivacy! You know how long it takes to puff-daddy comb my hair? As I stand there with nothing but my towel and my day dreams? FOR-EV-FUCKIN-VER!

Now she is standing behind her glazed over glass or plexiglas door waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. As I crawl around. Heh heh heh. See? I can be totally devilish... I never did find out though if she took her shower or not. I got bored and left while totally repeating over and over in my head: " I will so blog about this tomorrow."

Random Shiznit

2011-05-24T09:14:00.000-07:00

So every once in a while the fact that I'm totally out of ideas for stupid pictures and stories creeps up to bite me in the ass along with the fact that I want to write about stuff that doesn't necessarily include stupid pictures and stories. Every time I post one of these I'm always like, "OH NOES if I don't post pictures I'm going to lose followers!"

So here's a stupid picture to start:

Okay, now that I've got your attention and love back, I have a few things to say:

1.) HAVE YOU SEEN MY NEW BLOG HEADER? My BNF (Best Neighbor Forever) from another state, Goofy Girl from There Is Grandeur in This View of Life, made it for me. I was all, "I fucking suck and have no ideas even though I'm supposed to do this for a living." And BAM, she sends me a new header. <3

2.) I have a guest post over here at I AM BMAC. Bryant says I'm a fruit fly! Woot! He also lies and says my blog is "wildly popular"(<~~ hahahaha) so that's fun. Also there is a picture of me (a REAL picture) over there so if you want to see a picture that I didn't take in a bathroom mirror, there you go. Now go read Bryant's blog!

3.) I got ANOTHER blog award. I know, right, what the fuck is wrong with people?? I received the Versatile Blogger Award from Peevie Juice. Peevie Juice is such a weird name, right? Sounds kind of perverted. But it's actually not, he says it's a Scottish term for "drunk", so his name is Drunk on Juice. My kind of guy. Plus he's weird. So we are instant friends. Since I've gotten this before and I'm afraid to scare ya'll off with more text and no pictures I'm just going to pimp him out and thank him (THANKS PEEVIE JUICE) and not repost it.
EDIT: So I'm a huge asshole and forgot that Ashley at Perpetually Me gave me this award back on May 15th. I'm going to blame the drugs I'm on (prescribed of course). But it's still no excuse for forgetting because Ashley is an awesome blogger and super sweet. Sorry Ashley, please forgive me!

WAIT DON'T LEAVE, I have another picture!!

4.) Keith has a blog too (The Keith Miles) and draws super cute pictures too. He told me on Saturday that he was waiting for me to comment on his pictures and I didn't and he was sad and it broke my heart. So I drew myself as a dinosaur for Keith. Go visit Keith and love him! Seriously, or I'll cutcha.

That's all for now. I swear to fuck I'm drawing a guest post that I got like four years ago and I'll hopefully have it done by Friday. Until then, find me on Twitter, cause I can do that from my phone (read: it's easy so I do it more often).

I'm the Best Girlfriend Evar

2011-05-13T12:50:00.000-07:00

Justin is always telling me what an awesome girlfriend I am, and asking me how it's possible that I became so amazing and awesome. It wasn't easy, let me tell you. But after he asked me enough I thought that I should probably put together a blog post so that other women may follow in my footsteps in an attempt to be amazingly awesome as well. It's worked really well for me so far, so it must be good, right?

1.) Make sure you have some kind of alcohol in your system at all times.

1a.) For those nights that you have a LOT of alcohol in your system (which should be most nights), make sure you either a.) break down and cry about something REALLY stupid, b.) get angry and start a fight over something REALLY stupid, or c.) get so inebriated that your boyfriend has to get you off the kitchen floor to go to bed. Having to take care of you makes him feel super manly and protective.

2.)Insist on going out to eat almost every night of the week and then complain about how fat you are. Men love getting the opportunity to reaffirm you and build your confidence up. You should complain about your body once every hour or so; more if you're eating.

3.) Belch, pretty much nonstop. Make sure to do so in the middle of a conversation, while watching a scary movie, or while talking with his grandmother on the phone. He will appreciate your willingness to be gassy in front of him cause it shows you're being 'real'.

4.) Do not cook anything. Ever, ever, ever. If you do slip up and cook dinner one night make sure that it tastes terrible. Your boyfriend be endeared to you because you are such a dumbass in the kitchen. That's super cute.

That is a real pancake I tried to make last year. The dog won't even eat it.

5.) If he's a computer geek like my boyfriend, force him to download such artists as Avril Lavigne, Lady Gaga, and Miley Cyrus. Then sing to them LOUDLY while you are driving somewhere together. He loves to hear your singing voice and will probably fall more in love with you.

6.) Speaking of driving, make him drive everywhere. He'll feel much more manly when he's ~~chauffeuring~~ driving you around town. Don't give him any gas money either, he'll feel like you're emasculating him.

7.) Instead of letting him play video games at night, insist on watching a romantic movie, or perhaps a movie from your childhood. I just bought The Last Unicorn on Blueray but I think I'll wait until the next time he wants to play Call of Duty to spring it on him. He'll love your spontaneity and girly soft side, even if he pretends not to.

8.) Shower two or three times a week at best. Your man loves your 'natural smell'. After two or three days you'll have natural smell in SPADES! Bonus points if you go for a week at a time.

9.) Bring home a 118lb dog with a brain the size of a walnut and all the commen sense that implies. Do a poor job of training him as a puppy and let your boyfriend handle him when you're out in public so that if your dog acts like an asshole the boyfriend can take the blame for it. Of course he'd never want you to look bad so this is totally cool with him.

Obviously the pick of the litter.

10.) Don't shave your legs from September to April. Let those gams grow some hair. This will make your boyfriend feel manly and primal when he sees your silky leg fur blowing gently in the breeze. If your legs do not resemble small pine trees you are doing something wrong.

Good luck ladies! Please, if you follow this guide, send me your pictures / success stories! A system has to be proven to be accepted!

picture source
picture source

Awards and Dysfunction

2011-04-29T14:00:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone! Hi new followers! So glad you came to follow me right when I'm in the middle of a nervous breakdown. Now the REAL shit-show will begin! I'm just kidding. Please don't leave me.

A few of the questions I have received in the past two weeks:

Are you dead?
> No, I am alive, but I'm barely functioning. You should see my house, I'm pretty sure I'm cultivating mushrooms somewhere, and not the fun kind.

New post soon?
> I would love to be able to do one and I did finally come up with an idea for a new post but my brain is not really working like I would like it to. I'm not quite sure what is wrong with me but I've spent the last two or three weeks in a constant hazy coma of crippling depression. FUN, right! I know. But it has basically hindered my ability to do anything other than this:

Are you still going to do my guest post?
> Yes. I still fully intend on doing the guest posts I've received (both as guests on my blog and my posts on your blogs). Once again, the loss of brain function and lack of desire to do anything but sleep all day has prohibited me from working on these posts. They will get done, I just don't know when.

Are you going to explode in a burning fire of self-pity and doubt?
> It is very possible.

Why haven't you commented on my blog posts recently?
> See above. I am barely feeding myself. I've got like 300 blogs I need to read. I am trying to go through them but please don't think I've abandoned you if I haven't written you love notes recently. It's not you, it's me. For reals.

Anything new going on?
> YES, actually. I'm going to be (hopefully) freelancing for 614 Magazine!! Awesome right? I didn't win (or even place) in the ColumBEST blogger award but I still (maybe) got a job out of it. Win!

Would you like me to send you a gift of cookies?
> UM, HELLFUCKINGYES???

Did you make up the last four questions yourself?
> Totally.

Are you still there? Sweet. Okay. I know I'm totallyfuckingboring.

I also won an award! Yaaaays! I'm pretty sure that I was just gifted this award as a pity gift because I'm not quite sure how in the hell anything I've ever written could be remotely inspirational, but it is what it is. I got this inspirational award from the lovely, frank, entertaining Minute Man's Wife. Her blog covers love and life, relationships, and anything else in between. If you haven't read her work before you should probably go check her out right now and leave her some love. Thank you my dear.

As part of the rules of this award I need to pass it on to 10 more inspirational bloggers. I would like to do more than 10 because I really love you all shitloads, but I will keep it short and sweet.

Chelle from Coffee & Zombie Movies - And before you ask, yes, I totally followed her based upon the title of her blog. But I have yet to be disappointed by anything she ever writes because it's fucking HILAAARRIOUS and she draws pictures too. Hearts. I wish I was as funny as she is.

Doesn't this look amazing?

Riot Kitty - I'm sitting here trying to figure out what the fuck Riot Kitty's blog is about but I can't really put my finger on anything in particular. There's a bunch of stuff on there, it's just whatever the hell she feels like writing, which is totally cool in my book. Plus, she posts lolcats pictures. Instant draw for people like me with the attention span of a carrot.

SOLD!

Patrick Tillett - I've never made any bones about my love for Pat and his blog and if you've followed me for any period of time you probably know that. Pat truly does deserve an Inspirational award for all the shit he has been through in his lifetime and he came out the other end a super awesome lovable human being. Shit, nothing bad has ever happened to me and I'm hardly bearable.

This sums Patrick up very neatly I think

Nikki from My Cyber House Rules - This is one badass 'fun and fearless female' (her phrase) right here folks. She just got into a women's roller derby team. TOTALLY HOT! I don't have a 10th of the balls she has to do something like that (and I'm pretty sure I can't move in roller blades or skates). If I ever am able to come out of my shell Nikki will be my next guest blogger.

She looks pretty legit to me.

Sandra from Absolutely Narcissism - This betch be crazy. The kind of crazy that makes you wish she lived nearby so you could take liquor over to her place and see what kind of trouble you can get into. She is endless sass and narcissism and not scared to admit it, and I sincerely hope that if I have crotch fruits of my own someday that I mother them just like she mothers hers.

She cooks in a crown and looks like a supermodel. What a betch!

Liz from Queen E The Third - I super love this little diva from Jersey (doesn't that just make you want to talk with an accent? I don't know if she has an accent or not. She probably does). Another straight up honest kind of girl which I always adore. She's going through a rough spot right now with her mother so make sure you stop over and send her some lovins.

Goofy Girl from There is Grandeur in This View of Life - Another one of my favorite bloggers; I love Goofy to itty bitty cute little pieces. You may remember her from an earlier guest post on my page, but she's another fun awesome femme that I wish was my neighbor because she rules and you should follow her blog. Goofy has hit a rough patch in life as well (we have discussed cuz we're homies) and could use some love too.

Disgustingly cute, right?

Laughing Mom from Where's the Funny Here? - This mommy blogger has a gift for humor and it boggles my mind why she does not have more followers showering her with love and adoration. I got in there early and when she blows up I'll be able to say that I was there first. Well, not first, but pretty close. So there. She finds the funny; you will too.

I still have to get this amazing decal that she found

The Shy Narcissist from Broke, Amusing, and Genius- Shy Narcissist(or AkelLove if you follow her twitter) is another one of those bloggers that is a little bit all over the place; the not-so-easy-to-peg blogger. She's a dollface and she's from Nairobi which instantly interests me because I am not from Nairobi and know nothing about it. And for calling herself a Narcissist she has very few photos (read: none) of herself on her blog. So we'll just go with her avatar here.

Shy is not really a bouquet

Chelsey from Misery and Merriment - Chelsey is also a crazy betch, a little whacked out, and a whole lot of funny and cute. She draws awesome pictures to go along with her stories too and I wubs her. Check her out for realz or else she might hurt you. Possibly. I wouldn't put it past her. She looks like she might cut a bitch if you cross her.

The caption on this photo is "Yaay! Drugs for me!" Well played, Chelsey

If you weren't included please don't feel bad. I still love you. Email me and once I'm not losing my mind I'll throw you up on guest post and talk about how much I love you. Hang in there with me guys, I've got some stress I need to overcome in the meantime.

Why I'm not a Veterinarian

2011-04-12T12:58:00.000-07:00

When I was growing up I always thought I'd be one of two things: an artist or a veterinarian.

I realized soon enough that I was not in fact going to sell pictures of ninja turtles any time soon so shortly after I turned 16 I decided to look into becoming a vet. My dad, who always encourages these kinds of endeavors, knew someone that worked in a vet's office and asked if I could come in for the day and shadow her and see what it was all about. I was thrilled!

It was one of the worst days of my life.

First of all, the nice lady that my dad knew was not there the day I came in. She also didn't really fill anyone else in on the fact that I would be there, so I showed up like a noob and was basically shlepped off on a bunch of busy, irritated, not-so-friendly vets and vet techs. Not a good start to the day.

I sat on a bench ~~with my thumb up my ass~~ in the back for over an hour before someone decided to take pity on me and show me around. I tried to be as cheery sunshine as fucking possible, hoping someone would take me under their wing so I wouldn't feel like such an idiot.

One doctor said I could sit in while he did a spay on a puppy. A spay? Sure! How bad can it be?

Let me tell you how a spay is performed. Better yet, let me tell you how a spay WAS performed, at THIS vet clinic. It was a small poodle, maybe five months old, and she was already unconscious on the table. Quite without warning the doctor just grabs a scalpel and slits her little belly open.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Okay, we're cool, we're cool. Don't freak out.

The good fellow then proceeds to get what appears to be a small silver hook and jab it repeatedly in and out of the dog's belly, attempting to pull her ovaries out through the gap. This took a good fifteen minutes of digging and pulling, then pushing innards back in until the prize was found.

Honestly I do not remember where the procedure went from there because there is only so much dog intestine being yanked out with a hook I can handle before my brain shuts down. The next thing I remember was him sewing the dog back up and sending me on my way back to the bench.

More sitting.

Time to see how a cat gets de-clawed. You know how that's done?

Pretty much all they do is knock the cat out and then take a razor blade to it's claws. PARTY PARTY PARTY FUN FUN FUN.

Then there's a sort of rush. Someone asks me if I want to come stand watch them catheterize a cat. Sure! Haha! What's 'catheterize' mean?

But here's the best part. No only was this a male cat, this cat was dying. He was dying in front of my eyes. I didn't realize it at first, he jut seemed really fucking out of it.

There were like four people around this bloated thing trying to get the catheter into poor Mr. Kitty and having a lot of difficulty. Thankfully the old sack didn't seem to notice cause he was so far gone. I don't remember the context of the situation but he had crystals in his urine which had blocked up his urethra and now he was dying because he was being poisoned by his own piss.

Awesome way to go, right??

So she's fighting and cursing and roughing this animal around and that's when she says he's dying and I realize what's happening and I start to really lose it. She's got the catheter in and is squeezing some bloody urine down the table into a gutter, but apparently the catheter wasn't working to her satisfaction.

So I'm standing there freaking out at the end of the table watching all this go down and suddenly the doctor decides that this catheter isn't going to work and yanks it out. Not removed it, yanked it. And you know what happened when she did that? It whiplashed towards me and SPLATTERED MY FACE WITH BLOODY CAT URINE.

I don't know how I did it but I managed to stand there while they euthanized the cat. Then I excused myself to the bathroom and sat on the toilet for 20 minutes because I couldn't see straight. I have never passed out before in my life but everything was going black and white and the room was spinning. I couldn't stand up. I didn't know what to do.

When I finally got up the balls to return to the little veterinarian's office of horrors they told me that there wasn't really anything else they could show me today and I'm sure you can imagine that was totally fine with me. They asked me to wait a few minutes though.

The receptionist gruffly took me into a back room and told me that they'd pay me $5 and some change an hour if I wanted to work in the kennels cleaning dog and cat poop and giving meds and water and food. I managed to stand upright while I politely told her I would consider her offer.

I then left the building, tossed my cookies in the parking lot beside my car, and drove home knowing that I would never become a veterinarian. I never called them back about their stupid job, either.

Want to Feel Real Old?

2011-04-07T12:34:00.000-07:00

Today is my youngest sister Shelby's 17th birthday. She is every bit the shit-head snarky know-it-all teenager that you and I and everyone else was or will be at some point in their lives. She loves to call me old (I am 9 years and 4 months older) and otherwise make fun of me. I am not too saddened by this because I know once she hits 24 the realization will set in that she's going to be old someday too. Maybe she'll even have her first gray hairs (like I did at that age.... FML).

Anyway, in honor of Shelby's birthday and her penchant for making me feel old, I'm going to pass on this story to you, my dear readers, so you may share in my pain as well.

One day a few months ago Justin was having conversation with Shelby. It went like this:

Shelby: Oh, I love Band of Brothers!

Justin: Yeah, it's so awesome when what's his name gets what's coming to him... who was that guy... uh... you know...

Shelby: No?

Justin: DAVID SCHWIMMER!

Shelby: Who?

Justin: You know, Ross?

Shelby: Ross?

Now this might seem crazy, I mean, who hasn't heard of 'Friends'? Seriously. Even if you didn't watch the show (like me) you heard everyone else and their mothers and brothers talking about it all the time. You heard the Smelly Cat song. Jennifer Aniston's haircut made national news. The Friends had babies and got married or something.

Friends was on the air for ten years, from September 1994 to May 2004. Here's the thing though. Shelby was born the same year that friends debued and was 10 years old when it went off the air.

She really has no idea what "Friends" is.

Feel old? I fucking do.

picture source

Water Can Go To Hell

2011-04-01T10:41:00.000-07:00

You know what I hate?

Water! Yes! I'm looking at you, Water! Fuck you!

Don't give me that look water. You're ridiculous. I'm so tired of your bullshit. Everyone is all "Water is so good for you" and "Water helps you lose weight" and "Water makes your skin look good" and "Water tastes so refreshing!"

You know what tastes good, Water? BEER! Beer tastes good. Wine tastes good. Lattes taste good. Milkshakes taste good. You only taste good when you've been brewed with yeast and hops and barley and then fermented and placed in a brown bottle. You taste like the fucking junk coming out of the pipes of my century old house! Minerals and dust? MMMMMMMMMMM.

NO!

But your body is mostly water! FUCK YOU water, I never gave you permission! I have to have you, or I'm going to die?? How fair is that? I'm born with this addiction and it's all your fault, Water. You know what I want to be mostly made up of? PIZZA. Pizza tastes good.

Oh, look, here's another form of you, Water! SNOW and fucking ICE!

You just know how to make all KINDS of friends, don't you Water? I KNOW it's fucking you, I almost finished fourth grade, motherfucker - you can't fool me with your temperature changy-trick! Now I have to wear ten layers of clothing because I'm freezing my ass off AND I risk my life every day when I leave the house because I have to drive on you! And since you're totally transparent it makes it a huge guessing game! HAHA! Russian Roulette FTW, right Water? You sadist. We'll see how fucking smart you are in the next month or two!

"Drink one fluid ounce of water per pound of body weight per day!"

JEEEEESSSSSUUUUUUSSSSS. Yeah, drinking over a gallon of water a day is totally doable. You know what else is doable? Having to pee every fucking hour. SO MUCH FUN!

We're DONE, Water. This relationship is over until you get your fucking act together. And please leave us alone when you see me out with beer.

One Last Shameless Whoring Promotion

2011-03-27T14:10:00.000-07:00

Hi darlings!

Not a funny post today, I just wanted to share a few quick things:

1.) Welcome to all my new followers! I'm not sure how but I've managed to fool like an extra 20something of you guys into subscribing to my blog, but I'm real happy you're here. Hearts and kisses, I'm glad to have you. I always make an effort to find you and follow you back and check out your own blogs but I usually remember to do so by following your comments back. I'm not fishing for comments, I swear, it's just how I keep in touch best, so if I haven't followed you or made any comments on your blog yet it's probably because I you haven't contacted me. Also, some of you don't have links to your blog on your profile so you might wanna update that so others can find you too!

2.) I wanted to whore my blog out one last time for the 614 Magazine (a local Columbus mag) ColumBEST contest. Voting ends March 31st (that's in three days!) so if you haven't voted yet and would like to throw in your two cents for my blog I would be extremely appreciative. Just follow this link and click on the People category and then scroll down to the second to last question which is Best Local Blog. Just copy and paste my address in:

http://thehotmesschronicles.blogspot.com/

....and we're golden. You can answer the other questions (if you're local and have opinions on the other categories) and try to win a bike. You can register if you want or just go through Facebook which is pretty painless.

And if you're from 614 Magazine and want to hire me to join your staff I would be there with bells and whistles on! I can totally write like a professional, I promise :-D <~~ Shameless. I know.

THANK YOU guys, to those of you who voted already and to those of you who are going to do so. I've been overwhelmed with all the support and encouragement I've gotten over the last two weeks. You guys rock and I appreciate every single one of you.

3.) I'm in the process of getting my lazy ass to do some updates. I've also added a picture link to my Twitter

up there on the top right so if you have a Twitter follow me on there! I'm also going to add a bunch of new stuff to the blog and probably get around to personalizing the background. Most of you probably don't give a shit and/or use Reader but I'm excited to be doing some work to the blog and I wanted to share.

Talk to you again soon! <3 Cake Betch

Babies Scare the Shit Out of Me

2011-03-23T13:11:00.000-07:00

Before I get into my tangent I just want to let you know that I don't want to offend those of you that DO want kids but are not able to have them for whatever reason. I can totally sympathize, I just can't empathize (there's a difference).

Anyway...

I have been waiting for quite some time for that good 'ol baby clock to start ticking. It never has. And I'm starting to think that as I get closer to 30 than I am to 20 that perhaps my baby clock has been smashed and set on fire and tossed out the window of a speeding train into the deepest part of the ocean.

I just do not see the benefit in kids. I wish I did. Sometimes I feel like I am broken, but mostly I thank GOD that my womb has remained barren all these years. I have way more thoughts and theories on having babies than I could possibly cover in a single blog, but I could probably rattle off a few here.

My mom told me once that she cried because she thought I was possessed.

MY MOTHER THOUGHT I WAS POSSESSED. That's how bad of a child I was. I would stand in my crib at night and shake the bars and scream until I projectile vomited.

Can you imagine?? My parents tried for five years to have a child. FIVE YEARS. My mother's sister fooled her into thinking that rearing children was super awesome fun time because she often would take care of my cousin (you're a douche, George!) who was actually well behaved. I'm sure they thought that they were going to be bringing this amazing beautiful little girl into the world and their lives would be full of gum drops and rainbows and bears riding unicycles while eating ice cream cones.

HAHA! NO!

Someone asked me once if I had a bad childhood. It's very common that people who had lousy childhoods do not want to reproduce. To this I say no, my childhood was absolutely pristine. I don't know how how the fuck my parents managed to rear me into an almost-decent nearly functional human being instead of drowning me in the tub. It would have been so easy. I can't believe that I was hugged and loved instead of beaten senseless after hearing the stories my parents tell me. I certainly do not have a tenth of the patience that my mother possesses.

I mean I really just do not want to take the risk! If there is a god then surely he has been waiting all this time, hunched over, wringing his hands in SHEER DELIGHT, just waiting for me to get knocked up so he can send some Satan spawn into my womb. PAYBACK IS A BITCH, TARA.

HAHA! Not if I don't get pregnant!

I've had nightmares where I was pregnant. In my dream I suddenly am in a time and place where I'm seven months pregnant and don't know how it has happened and I'm scared as HELL. I have this dream probably once every few months.

Let me see if this chain of events sounds correct:
- Get pregnant
- Throw up all the time
- Get fat (stomach and ass floppy forever at a minimum)
- CANT DRINK FOR NINE MONTHS <~~ NINE MONTHS
- Everything swells/hurts
- Go to doctor all the time
- Experience what could possibly be the worst pain of my entire life
- Have strange man pull bloody foreign screaming object from lady bits
- Lady bits are hamburger meat for a few weeks

And then as a reward for all of this work I get another screaming shitting mouth with razor sharp fingernails to feed that needs my constant attention every moment of the day for at least the next few months? A little shit that I will always have to worry about, who will probably hurt him or herself, get into trouble, break my heart, and make me wipe their ass for five years? A little shit who will then turn into a teenager, drive (and wreck) a car, experiment with anything and everything, and treat me like garbage? I'm pretty sure at this point that the best payoff you can get is when they become stable adult children and actually have done something with their lives, and honestly people, how likely is that? You want me to wait almost 30 years for the payoff of day-in and day-out mental and physical labor?

I can put my dog in a cage when I leave the house to drink myself to oblivion and people won't bat an eyelash.

Benefit of having a child:

That's all I got, and I'll have to wait at least until he or she can walk and grip things before I can expect the real slave labor to begin. That could be up to six years!

I just don't see how I'm ever going to actually wish this upon myself.

Source Pictures:
Crib
Hell
Unicorn Land
Bathtub
Kids playing outside

Shameless Self-Promotion

2011-03-21T11:24:00.000-07:00

Hey cake eaters! I have shamelessly plugged this on Facebook and Twitter so I suppose it's only fair that I browbeat you guys with it too.

614 Magazine is a local magazine here in Columbus and they're doing a ColumBEST awards and one of the categories is Best Local Blog. I'm guessing I have a snowball's chance in hell because there are some heavy hitter blogs here but I'm going ask anyway - VOTE FOR ME PLEZ????

The only thing I can offer in return is my undying love for you. I could probably draw you some pictures too if you wanted, or bake you a cupcake, but honestly, would you eat a cupcake from me? Probably not. I will bake you one though if you want it. And my cupcakes are deelishis.

There IS another incentive in it - 614 is giving away three Trek bicycles, so if you enter you could win one of those. Yay! I can testify that they're for really-real because I myself have won prizes from them before (free food noms for Columbus Dine Originals Week).

If you click on this link right heeya - Columbus Best 2011 - and click on the People category, "Best Local Blogger" is the second from the bottom. Then enter this URL: http://thehotmesschronicles.blogspot.com/

and BAM!

You are my best friends ever.

You can't say no to this face can you??

Guest Post - Justin

2011-03-21T07:28:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I know that I said Nikki from My Cyber House Rules was up next but I am going to bend the rules a little bit. Justin asked me to start working on the pictures for his guest blog that he said he would do for the last year and a half so I jumped at it hoping that he would actually pull through this time with something I could post. Lo and behold he pumped something out that can actually be read by the general public so he gets bumped into the guest post lineup. I know, favoritism and all, but I have to live with him and deal with him so he gets special privileges.

Well hello. For months Miss Betch has been hounding me to write a guest post on her blog because, quite frankly, I'm fucking awesome and her sole source of inspiration. As a matter of fact, without me there would be no blog. As I remember it, our conversation went a little something like this:

CakeBetch: "Hey, sexy, what are you doing over there and why aren't you taking your shirt off so I can rub your rippling muscles?"

Me: "I'm just checking my email. I'm done, let's get it on!"

CakeBetch: "eeee maaaale??"

Me: "Yeah, email. You know, mail sent electronically over the internet?"

CakeBetch: "En-tern-ehhht?"

Yes. I taught CakeBetch what the internet is. Prior to that, she only did two things (two things at an expert level, I might add) - bake cakes and betch. So, without further adieu, I present a CakeBetch style rant by Miss Betch's idol, PieDeck (aka Mr. Betch, aka Justin, aka Studs Awesometon).

I am a reader. I do not see words and convey meaning. I read. When I lift a book and start reading, sound around me dies, consciousness of the world around me fades, and along with it my ability to see anything other than the page. Enter the most HD, 3D, Hi-Rez, Surround Sound, ball-shaking, movie forum ever: my imagination. I read the way Buddhist monks meditate. I don't think I'm alone in this. I'm sure everyone out there reading this blog right now is imagining the smell of my cologne, the wind in my hair, my rippling muscles held firmly in place by a comfortable layer of beer fat. This is what readers do. We pick books up and are transported to a fantasy world framed by the author and decorated by our brains. The mental resources devoted to this alternate reality places me in a near-coma state sometimes, and I'm perfectly fine with that. Others; however, are not.

There are two basic types of these people. The nonreaders who don't understand, and unwittingly throw a rock through the window to my imagination, and the readers who don't really give a shit about slamming my world to a halt (see also: the inhuman, godless, abomination of a human that finishes the last of the coffee and doesn't make another pot for more information on the latter). Before I offend too many people, I think the majority of these experiences are by nonreaders who just don't know any better, but damnit, it happens all the time. I read at my desk during lunch, people think I'm working and talk to me. I read in the break room during lunch, people think I'm on lunch so obviously I need to be social. At multiple jobs/schools I've hid in back corners of the building and have STILL been interrupted! Every time it happens I am struck with an overwhelming sense of... of... WTF!

I conveyed my stories to Tara and she was able to use her awesome MS Paint abilities to relay what happens to me almost every time I read.

I WILL SAVE QUEEN BREASTIOUS AND FREE BABEDOM OF THEIR EVIL BRA-CURSE!!!

sigh... nothing...

source picture

source picture (scope) & source picture (hitler)

source picture

That's right, move into view. Allmost there... ALL-MOOOST-THEEEERRRE

Your mistake was taking Poland before YOU TOOK OUT ME!! BYE-BYE HITLER!!!

BANG!

I've sooo got chubs for you right now.

<shrinking boner noise>source picture

I can see Tara's boobs from here!

.... source picture

Finally, I made it

Just swap this out here and it will be all MINE!!!

...of course I'm goi-HOLY SHIT! LOOK OUT FOR THAT GIANT BALL!source picture

GOT- TO- GET- *ugh* UP- AND- RETIRE- MORE- ANDYS...

BITCH COOK ME DINNER!

source picture

I'm sure, eventually, I'll be left alone and then I'll have time enough at last to read.

** editor's note: Justin did these last two drawings all by himself and they're a Twilight Zone reference for you geek-impaired readers.

Daily Dose of Zombie

2011-03-10T14:04:00.000-08:00

Hey all (and welcome new followers! yay!)

This is my last week of classes and I have been busy cranking out final projects and have had zero time to devote to any MS art. I thought perhaps instead you might be interested in what I actually did as it is a.) drawn and b.) humorous (a little).

The background information is that for one of my design classes we had to do a comic strip and a user profile (basically a quick character sketch) of a story that someone else tells you. I chose to use Justin as my muse and this is his story. I'm not going to tell you what is actually happening; I'm curious to see if you can figure it out. That's the ultimate test of my abilities right? So leave me a comment and tell me what you think is happening! Bonus points if you can boil down the message of the story. I'll update later and let you know what it was if you're interested. My teacher was sick today when I turned it it in. I rolled in there all giddy and proud of myself and was excited to hear what she had to say and she was less than enthusiastic about it. Took the wind out right out of my sails. Oh well.

Also, please note: I had some kind of photographic reference for every single scene except for the bird's eye view shot (of the zombie crowd). I wish I was talented enough to draw all of this using my creativity alone but alas I am not. I worked out the scenes, cropping, story, and layout though, so I deserve some credit right?

Hope you enjoy! Be back next week :-) P.S. This might be my first ever blog that doesn't contain a single curse word!

Click to Enlarge

I'm on Crazy Pills

2011-03-04T13:41:00.000-08:00

Before I get into this story, let me just put in a serious aside here. I am in no way making fun of anyone, I’m not putting anyone down, I’m not casting judgment on anyone who uses antidepressants or anti-anxiety medication. Miley over at Musings of a Confused Woman wrote an excellent blog post on the subject of mental health, as did Midwestern Mama. Everyone at some time or another struggles and if you or someone you know needs help there is absolutely no shame in getting help. It’s a taboo subject though, and one most people are sensitive about, including myself, which is what led to this exchange.

Some background information: When I was 17 I was in a car accident. It wasn’t a very bad accident but I did bite a chunk out of my cheek and butterflied my tongue on the left side. It hangs over my teeth now and if I ever get hit the jaw again I’m going to bite it off.

Gross, huh?

Anyway, like I said - it wasn’t a bad accident, but it made me realize that I was not in fact indestructible and was capable of wrecking my car and injuring myself. Cue the panic attacks. I would get them every so often if I was driving in an unfamiliar area or driving in really bad weather. Panic attacks are probably a little different for everyone but mine involve going from fine to freaking out in the snap of a finger. It feels like that moment in a scary movie when you know something terrible is about to happen any second and you're absolutely powerless to do anything about it. I feel like my vision is messed up, or like I’m not registering what I’m seeing correctly and am about to be in an accident.

I go from this:

To this:

It’s not fun. Slowly over the course of eight years it got better and then pretty much stopped.

Until I moved to Columbus in 2009. It was probably a variety of stresses and other issues piling up, but I started getting panic attacks more frequently and in places I had never gotten them before; at work, at home, on the bus at school, driving on familiar roads. A helicopter hovering over my house last fall nearly sent me into a meltdown (I'm afraid of hovering helicopters - too many nightmares with them in it). To make a long story short I finally had to do something because I couldn’t handle the attacks and I was suffering from general anxiety almost all day.

So I made an appointment with my doctor. On February 14^th.

I made an appointment to get myself crazy pills on Valentine’s day. Oh the things they must have thought about me picking that day to get on medication.

I don’t know what I was expecting when I went in but I thought I would say, “Hi, I have panic attacks and general anxiety, can I have some drugs to help me cope until I can manage it?” And then the doctor would say, “SHORE!” And write me a script.

That isn’t exactly what happened. I sat in his office answering questions about whether I was depressed, if I thought about suicide, what kind of sexual activity I had, what was stressful in life, so on and so forth - FOR AN HOUR. I should be grateful that he cares so much and wanted to make sure I was okay and was getting the right medication but after an hour of talking about my personal life and my feeeeeeeeelings (not a fan of this unless I'm bitching about something) I was ready to go.

FINALLY he told me he was going to write me a prescription for Prozac. Before he left the room he gave me a hug. I'm all about hugs, I have no problem getting them or giving them, but getting a hug from your doctor after spending an hour talking about your intimate thoughts and problems made me feel like he thought my ship was sinking and sinking fast.

So, prescription in hand I drive over to the pharmacy with the biggest I AM NOT CRAZY smile on my face I can muster. "BE COOL!" I thought to myself as I drove up to the window. "IF YOU ACT COOL HE WILL NOT THINK YOU'RE A PSYCHO." I drop off my prescription and am told to come back in 30 minutes.

At some point while I was wasting 30 minutes I managed to rub my eyes and smear my eyeliner so it appeared as though I had been crying or having some kind of nervous breakdown. I didn't realize this.

I pulled back in and told the guy in the drive-through window my name. He was very blasé. He walked away and came back and said, "I don't have a current copy of your insurance on file. This is going to be three ninety nine."

I start freaking out. There is no way I can afford that without insurance! Kaiser's surgery plus my credit card bill from Christmas had just wiped my bank account clean. I tell him that my mom's card is on file there and that we're on the same insurance. Can he look me up with that? He goes away and comes back a few minutes later.

"I added your insurance, but this is still three ninety nine."

There is no way I can afford this. I tell him so. Actually, I was so thrown by the whole exchange and already rattled about being embarrassed to be getting pills to regulate my mental instability and having this guy be such a dick to me I said, "Well, that's not gonna happen!"

He stares at me for at least a full thirty seconds and then says

OH.

"OH GOD, OKAY!" - nervous laughter - "I thought you meant three hundred and ninety nine dollars."

More nervous laughter. He doesn't say anything. The silence is more than I can bear.

"You probably thought I was super cheap!"

Without saying a word he filled my prescription and sent me on my way with my crazy pills, probably thinking that I was going to need a much stronger dosage than what he had given me.

I had totally gone into that thinking I'd be charming and happy and he would not think I was insane. I obviously failed.

BUT the silver lining is that I think they are working and I also didn't realize how anxious I actually was. I think I've even lost a little bit of weight already because I'm not cramming food in my face in an attempt to self medicate. I'm probably also drunk a little less but I totally plan to remedy that tonight.

Have a good weekend!!

Oh God She's Talking About Her Effing Dog Again

2011-03-01T18:06:00.000-08:00

She's talking about her effing dog again. No one wants to read that shit. No one cares about your damn dog. You're like those people that never shut up about their stupid kids that no one wants to hear about, except you're talking about a dog.

I know, I know.

But in case you do wanna read about him I have a guest blog over at Coffee with a Canine! There is no cursing and I'm on my best behavior, you won't even recognize my goody-two-shoes voice over there. Big thanks Marshall! :-)

Speaking of Kaiser, all of his out-of-cage privileged have been revoked. We were leaving him out of his cage 24/7 and the little shit got to spend all his time lying on a queen sized bed barking like a homicidal maniac at anything that moved in or around the house. He sleeps there. I cover him with blankies before he goes to bed. He basically had free rein of the house.

So he developed this habit of chewing up paper over the last two weeks and we've just kind of let it go. A tissue here, a tissue there, a piece of junk mail here, some paper from the trash can there. Then one night he targeted some cash. Yes, cash. He tore up two dollar bills and we saved the third. Not cool.

It actually became a joke. We were driving home from dinner a few nights ago and Justin says, "What do you want to bet that Kaiser tore something up?"

I'm not actually going to tell you what he wanted to bet. You can just guess and know he would have been thrilled to win it.

"Hell no, I'm not taking that bet."

Snarf snarf snarf snarf. We were giggling all the way up to the house. Open the door to THIS:

Contents include:
- My W2's
- Justin's tax forms
- A BRAND NEW NOVEL

We had to SEARCH to find pieces of the jacket cover. We couldn't even beat him we were so in awe of the absolute sheer destruction he was able to wreak in just under two hours.

Anyone want to adopt an ~~asshole~~ dog?

Guest Post - Goofy Girl

2011-02-25T05:27:00.000-08:00

Today is a special day because today marks the second Guest Post blog. Our gracious guest host this time around is Goofy Girl from There is Grandeur in this View of Life. Goofy is my shoulda-been-neighbor from another state that has been here supporting and laughing at my posts when no one else will for quite some time. We've bonded over such things as:

Big feet

A penchant for dying our hair funky colors

Awesome dogs

.... and cheese. Glorious, glorious cheese.

Goofy has been living my dream of staying in London and traveling to Paris and Scotland and has a bunch of pictures you can go drool over if you're like me and dream of European vacations. Go check her out, send her some lovin'.

In case you missed it: Pat's Story from Patrick Tillett

Up next time: Nikki from My Cyber House Rules

Without further ado, Goofy's Guest Post:

Now We're Even

Ever have one of those stories that just HAS TO BE told because it's too good to keep to yourself? This would be one of those stories.

On the night of October 31st, 2000 a group of friends & I had gathered at a house in a semi-remote part of the island where I live….and being that it was Halloween it became imperative that we do something decidedly spooky (or at least try). Collectively we had decided that wandering in the dark around the local Indian graveyard, just a 5 minute walk away through the woods, was our best bet. There were 6 of us: Molly & Nate (that's whose house were were at), Erik, Brandi, Brett (who was my fiance at the time, but is now just a dear friend), and Me.

We set off down the road with double fisted beers in hand, laughing as we tried to scare each other.

"Oh my god! what's that?!"
"Shut up, that's not scary."
"No! really! there was something up there, didn't you see it?"
"Where?"
"Right there!"
"You know what that is?"
"Do tell."
"That'd be your horrible imagination running away from your inability to use it properly"

By the time we made it to the fence we had to climb over I found myself questioning what the hell I was thinking wearing an ankle length denim skirt, birkenstock clogs and an oversized sweater… did I mention the red & white striped thigh highs? Apparently my look that night was "big hot mess" topped off with a flame red bobbed wig.

So...I guess that was indeed a costume, eh? (Pretty sure I was just lookin' to be comfy) Anyway… we all climbed over the fence and Brandi grabbed my hand and whispered "c'mon! Let's hide and scare the shit out of them!" I was game, we took off.

About a minute into the woods Brandi & I found these large logs that we could lay down beside to hide us as we waited for the big "RAWWWRRR!!!" Only, as we lay there, under the cloudless sky, and the perfectly full moon (how often does THAT happen on Halloween?!) I realized there was NOTHING scary about this night. The moon shone so brightly that at 9pm I could have been sitting in these woods reading a book without any extra light needed… and it was kinda warm… WTF? We soon heard the rest of the group heading our way, and prepared ourselves for the half assed scare… but being greeted by "why are you two laying in the dirt?" kinda killed that. I think we all realized pretty fast that there would be no scares that night… or so we thought.

Giving up on wandering the woods we all headed back to the main road, climbed the fence, and began the walk back to Nate & Molly's house. Soon enough, just like in grade school, it was the girls walking together, and the boys a few steps behind in a row. Silently we picked up our pace and tried to make the gap between "us" & "them" a bit bigger. The whispers began…

"we could hide just after the bend in the road and scare the shit out of them…"
"YES!"
"ok, but we'll have to start running…."
"Count of three?"
We all agreed with giggles and took off running. Molly on the far right, Brandi in the center, and Me on the left…

Molly looked back as we were running and noticed the guys were chasing us and let out a whispered yell of "to the right! the bushes on the right!" Brandi apparently needed someone to say "your other right!" as she crossed over in front of me and headed towards the woods on the left.

In what felt like slow motion, but all happened in a nano second, I tried to grab her and stop her… and she landed directly on the barbed wire fence that lined the left side of the road and let out a scream followed by a moan.

Molly and I stood on either side of her and tried to lift her up, but Brandi was doubled over and dead weight. I felt my leg begin to sting, and wondered just how badly I had gashed myself when trying to "save" her (btw it was a pretty bad gash that created a 7 inch "(" along side of one of the tattoos on my leg)… but put the thought out of my head since I was more worried about the fact that our friend had just impaled herself on a thick barbed wire fence through her gut. I got down on my knees and looked at her face, I asked her if she was okay…… she let out a laugh, and then raised her hand… WITH THE BEER STILL IN IT… and took a sip.

"BRANDI!!! Put down the fucking beer! Dumb ass!" I yelled.

"Wait, it's almost gone…" she said as she took another sip.

Molly and I exchanged glances, kicked Brandi in the butt, literally, and she dropped the beer. We both grabbed her by the belt loops and yanked her upright. She didn't have a mark on her…the thick part of the waistband of her jeans is what landed on the barbed wire, and I was the only one bleeding that night. The guys were all standing there watching the spectacle and laughing… but then they sort of realized how serious it could have been and individually asked Brandi if she was okay.

We continued on our walk to Nate & Molly's, and as we were just rounding the corner by the giant barn at the Ag Hall (Agricultural Hall) we collectively decided that Brandi needed to make it up to all of us for the stupid scare, and told her that unless she went through the barn up ahead, alone, she wouldn't be allowed back in the house, and no more beer.

Brandi stood there and looked ahead at the barn. I gotta be honest, at night, regardless of full moon and warmish weather, that is one freaky foreboding looking' building. It was pitch black inside, and I knew that Brandi would be scared….

"You guys, really?!" she whimpered.

"YES" we all replied and pointed in the direction of the barn. It seemed only fair for some reason.

The nice person in me suggested she just "take off running" and Molly agreed. We convinced her to start here on the road and just run at full speed all the way through the barn (it's HUGE btw) and back. So Brandi finished her last beer, re-tied her shoe laces, and prepared herself as we stood around her in a "Children Of The Corn" style semi-circle eggin' her on….

Brandi closed her eyes tight and took off like a shot in a perfect straight line for the opening.. and as she drew closer we almost couldn't see her anymore…. it was like the darkness ahead had swallowed her…. then there was this really loud *KaThUnK* noise that just silenced us. I think we all lost our breath in that instant. We were about to yell out for her till we heard a distant whimper from the barn……..

"you guuuuuuys?" It was Brandi.

Her voice still in the distance…."You guys, the doors to the barn aren't open…. they're painted black."

It took a good 10 minutes to get us all up from the ground due to laughing so hard our legs stopped functioning. Brandi slowly walked back to us and just stood there with her arms crossed staring at us rolling around in the dirt with tears of laughter in our eyes.

"We good? We even?" she asked.

Our only answer was more laughter.

The Tequila Story

2011-02-18T09:31:00.000-08:00

If you're a drinker, then chances are you have your very own "The tequila story." Everyone I know does. Justin got drunk on tequila at a company Christmas party and ended up breaking his thumb. He doesn't know how. My mom told us that dad got drunk on tequila over a vacation and sat in the bathtub laughing manically to himself and telling her he was in the mafia. My story does not involve breaking bones or sitting in bathtubs. It involves puke. Lots and lots of puke.

We went on our first cruise as a family four months before I turned 21. Now I wasn't a big drinker but I had definitely done some drinking in my time, and I was super disappointed that I couldn't legally get schwasted around my parents, sisters, and grandma in a tropical location. The boat we were on had 18 bars and a dance club that was 18 stories up with a 360 degree view.

I begged my dad to slip me drinks the whole week, and he did comply here and there with a daiquiri or margarita. But I wanted more. I begged him to have a 'father/daughter' drunkfest with me. We were on vacation! Finally, on the last night on the boat, he gave in. There was the pesky problem of me not being 21 though, and we weren't sure that I could get served even with his consent. So what do we do?

I go up to Grandma's room and get her ship I.D. You see, back in 2005, Princess Cruise lines did not include a picture I.D. on their ship cards, or a date of birth. They simply branded the card "A" for adult in the bottom right hand side of the card and you were set to drown yourself in booze if you wanted to. With that, I became Alice.

The first two bars we checked out I stuck with the easy stuff - two 16oz daiquiris. At the third bar I got a beer. At the fourth bar I got another beer. I was pretty good at this point. It's then that dad says:

"You want to put some hair on your chest?"

"Sure"

"We'd like two shots of tequila please."

Not just any tequila, either. He ordered 1800. And when the guy set them down in front of us they were double shots, in those extra large shot glasses. Let it be known I had never had tequila before. I was nervous. Dad ordered more beer as a chaser and down the hatch went the tequila. I laughed afterward - what the hell was he talking about?

"That shit was smooth!"

"Oh yeah? Want to do another?"

I did.

Things start to get blurry at this point. I remember snippets of the night. I remember walking around to three or four more bars (continuing to get double shots at each). I remember sitting by the pool for a while chatting. I remember laying out on the deck chairs (even though it was well past dark and probably chilly) talking and getting all drunk emotional. I remember dad making me walk a straight line and being shocked at how well I did it (I have no idea how I did this; he was probably too shit-faced himself to really see me.)

I remember being back inside at one point at yet another bar and walking through the dining room to get to the bathroom and how everything literally looked like this:

In all, I had two 16oz mixed drinks, five beers, and eight double shots of tequila. If you do the math, that's approximately sixteen ounces of tequila.

As all good things do, the night had to come to an end. He dropped me off in the room I shared with my sister Rachel and I crawled in to bed. In my clothes.

Here's the thing. Since it was our last night on board we had to pack all of our bags up earlier that evening and set them outside to be stored with only the outfit we were going to wear off the ship left behind. I was wearing the only outfit I had to disembark in.

The next thing I remember was sitting straight up in bed, staring at the wall, and then opening my mouth.

There was absolutely zero effort on my part to projectile vomit - all over myself a bit, but somehow all that tequila and stomach acid managed to land in the (brand-new just-bought Puma) duffel bag I was carrying off the boat.

Contents of said bag:

My digital camera
Rachel's digital camera
My four month old video camera
A $50 cookbook that was signed by our waiters (one of which was named Bruno and totally got his flirt on with me), the cooks, and the Maître De.
Our toothbrushes
Rachel's bathing suit that she had apparently forgotten to pack

The fun didn't end there. I had to crawl on my hands and knees to get to the bathroom and the toilet.

I made it as far as the threshold before I projectile vomited all over the floor.

I was able to get into the bathroom and get my face over the toilet before the third wave hit. I swear to GOD it was all Mexican food in my puke. There were tomatoes, chiles, peppers, and frijoles in the mix even though I had not eaten anything Mexican all week. SOMEHOW, somehow, in my intoxicated state, I got a towel off the rack and did my very best to clean the puke up off the floor before crawling back to my bed and passing out again. I did not remember to clean the bag up.

The next morning the phone rang quite a few times before my parents came down to see why were weren't up. I heard the door open, and I distinctly remember my dad's voice.

"Oh.....Jesus."

It isn't possible for me to accurately describe how horrific our 8 x 8' room smelled. Imagine yak's stomach acid mixed with rotten tomatoes and decaying dead bodies. That would probably get you close. I could barely function, and I was still drunk. My brand new Puma bag and the toothbrushes unfortunately had to go in the trash. So much for trying to freshen up that tossed tequila-cookie breath! I don't recall what I did to clean the cameras and video camera but they did make it home (and I later spent an hour in the garage with a q-tip cleaning vomit out of their crevices).

Hey, remember when I said that I slept in the only outfit I had to wear the next day? Oh yeah. Guess what I smelled like? Remember this picture?

It was at least 10 times worse than that. As we filed off the ship we had to show our passports at a counter. I knew that I smelled like a goat's stomach after a full day of eating rotten garbage so I quickly just flipped my I.D. onto the counter and took a big (what I hoped would not be noticeable) step away. Guy looks up at me.

"WHAT, ARE YOU JUST GONNA LEAVE WITHOUT YOUR PASSPORT???"

WTF DUDE? Is this really a yelling offense?? I'm trying to spare you from your own trip to puke city after you smell me. I take a big step back to the counter, mumble something unintelligible, grab my I.D. and scuttle away like an abused little drunkard.

We had to go into a gigantic warehouse and wait while dudes brought out everyone's luggage. Then we waited in large groups to be herded to the next location. When I found my bag I immediately hauled it as far away as I could and sat on it with my head ripping apart. People still came near. I'd see noses wrinkling, people looking around in dismay for the source of that ripe stench.

MORTIFICATION.

Finally we moved out into the parking lot where it was a shark infested water frenzy to hail a taxi cab. When a big van pulled up I jumped in and immediately went straight to the back seat. I had pulled a hoodie out of my bag, hoping that it would at least help cover up the smell until I could change. The driver of the van sniffing loudly and looking all around him and then in the rear-view confirmed that it did not.

We had driven to Florida in my dad's RV. The feeling of riding in one, if you never have, can be compared IMO to the feeling of being on a boat. It is never a good idea to try to attain sea legs when you are hung over as all mighty hell in a hand basket. So I sat at the table with a wastebasket between my legs, intermittently dry heaving and retching for the next 19 hours it took us to get home - sitting across from my GRANDMA. Who just rode along like she had no idea her granddaughter had spent all night getting blackout drink with her I.D. and was now barfing up more Mexican she had never eaten.

If that doesn't scream Leave It to Beaver Family Vacation I don't know what does.

It's been six years since then and the smell of tequila alone is enough to turn my face green. My first and last tequila story; thank God it's good enough to tell the kids whenever I get around to wanting to have some.

Happy VD Everbuddi!

2011-02-14T07:20:00.000-08:00

Happy Valentine's Day everyone! I know, I know, some of you really can't stand Valentine's Day cause you're single and bitter. We've all been there, sobbing between projectile vomits into the piss stained crapper at Denny's over lunch after one too many slugs from the emergency vodka bottle you keep under your front seat. Don't worry, eventually the fear that we'll die alone and get eaten by our seventeen cats before anyone knows we're gone forces us to find some other desperate human being and begin the long blissful remainder of our lives in ~~servitude~~ marriage.

And for those of you that don't hate today, Happy Valentine's Day!

On this most special of commercial holidays I wanted to make it very clear how much each and every one of you mean to me, and how happy all your sweet comments and encouragement make me.

I LOVE YOU ENOUGH TO CARRY YOU AROUND ON MY BELLY IN A SHAPELESS BLUE SACK THAT HAS A HOLE CUT IN IT SO YOU DON'T SUFFOCATE

(source pic courtesy of Mama!)

Shit I Wish my Grandma Said

2011-02-07T08:00:00.000-08:00

Before I get into the main post I just wanted to say WELCOME to all the new people that have come over from Pat's blog. I thought people would get a chuckle out of the story but I didn't anticipate all the wonderful comments and new followers. So thank you, truly. Hopefully I can live up to the hype. I'm in the process of going through everyone and getting back to your blogs. I'm always on the lookout for new faces and stories but I was sort of bludgeoned with them. I'll be making the rounds in the next few weeks adding people and reading everyone else's stuff :-) Also, I only got a handful of people wanting to do guest posts - if you're interested, email me!

That being said.....

I was driving home one day, for whatever reason, thinking about something my grandma said to me once that challenged my perception of the universe.

A few years back we were eating dinner in a nice restaurant as a family and my mom got to telling this story about me that my family thinks is hilarious. It involves me being a baby, totally naked, wearing a pair of my mom's high heels, holding on to the couch for support, and shaking my bare ass back and forth at everyone in the room.

I think there might even be video of it. As soon as the story was over Grandma gets this shit-eating grin on her face and says:

"Just think, she used to do it for you guys and now she does it for her boyfriend!"

I had just turned 17 that week. I had also only been dating the guy for a few weeks and he was my first boyfriend. I am not easily embarrassed by any means, but I'm pretty sure the shock of hearing that sentence come out of my grandmother's mouth combined with the fact that it was said in front of my parents and my sisters turned my face a bright shade of red. I thought it was hilarious, and I still do, but I can not for the life of me figure out what possessed her to say that.

You see, my grandma, much like 95% of all grandmas, is a sweet little old lady. She goes to church, she watches the nature channel, she cleans everything all day, and she drinks black coffee from sunup to sundown like it's her business. She doesn't get out much and she's totally out of touch with youth culture. She's basically your quintessential Grandma. As I was reflecting on the aforementioned dinner, I thought, "Boy, I wish Grandma would say shit like that more often."

And that led to me imaging things that Grandma could say that would be hilarious. And that led to this post.

Shit I wish my Grandma said:

I wonder if my Grandma would think this is funny. I probably won't show her.

Guest Post - Patrick Tillett

2011-02-01T07:17:00.000-08:00

Hey All! So I had this idea a week or two ago while I was reading some hilarious blogs and I thought, “Boy, I bet this would lend itself to some picture story-telling.” I mean, I am hilarious, but honestly I don’t always have funny shit to say. There are plenty of other funny stories out there to be told. So I had an idea that might be kind of fun: anyone that is interested can send me a story that they think is funny and would like to see in my gorgeous MS Paint renderings. I will draw the pictures to go along with it and then publish it as a guest post on my blog, maybe once or twice a month (these pictures take longer than you might think).

Just to give you an idea of what I’m talking about, I took the liberty of finding a story that I thought was hilarious and drawing it. The very first story I went with was taken from Patrick Tillett. I didn’t actually ask him before I did it, but I decided to pick one of his stories because he’s always been extremely supportive, encouraging, and downright sweet about all of my silly blog posts.

And guess what? He has a blog! And it’s awesome. You should definitely check it out. There are a lot of stories about his childhood and about serving in Vietnam that are hard to read but are so well written and so engrossing that when I first found his blog I spent probably four or five straight hours reading through them. There are also plenty of funny posts and tons of amazing photography in there as well. The story I chose was actually a response to a question someone had asked him on Formspring. You can find the original post right heeyaa. So thanks Pat for all your props. I hope you like it :-D

And if you other cake eaters like it and want to participate as a guest blogger, let me know! You don't have to have your own blog; if you read and want to tell a story just write it in an email to me. Otherwise let me know in the comments or send me a link to an already-written blog story that you want me to do. Obviously I’ll link back to your blog and totally talk you up, and you’ll be a handful of goofy-ass pictures richer (beatches).

So without further ado:

Have you ever worn woman's clothing that didn't involve it being Halloween?
Of course not! Well, actually I have…
Many years ago, I knew some folks that hosted a costume party 4 times a year. None of them involved Halloween. Written invitations were sent out via mail. In addition to the normal items included, there was also information relating to the theme of the party. If you did not dress appropriate to the announced theme, you did not get in the door. No matter how good a friend you were, you weren’t getting in. I had been to a couple of their parties; they were fun, but a lot of work.
My girlfriend at the time (not the one that almost got me killed) came running in from the mailbox shrieking with happiness.

She told me that we got an invitation to one of the costume parties. She was beside herself with glee. I asked her what the theme of the party was.
“Pimps and whores” she told me.

“What’s so funny about that” I asked her.
“The guys have to be the whores!” she screamed while collapsing to the floor with laughter.
“I’m not going!
“Yes you are, because if you don’t, I’m going by myself!

I wasn’t at all happy about this. I finally rationalized that it wouldn’t be all that bad, because every guy there would be dressed like a prostitute, not just me. My girlfriend rented her costume; platform shoes, velvet suit, big hat with feathers in it, walking stick, etc.
The night of the party, I walked out of the house in a mini-skirt, fishnet stockings, heels, wig, full on make-up, fake nails, and knockers out to there. At the time, I wasn’t overweight at all, but I’m a big person. You can imagine how I looked.

The party was really good. Somebody took a bunch of photographs, had I gotten any of them, I'd attach one to this post. YEAH RIGHT! It was hilarious to see the women trying to act “cool” and the guys trying to act “cheap.” I only knew that my spike heels were killing me. I eventually sprained my ankle and ditched them. A good time was had by all.
The party ended and we left. I threw the wig in the back seat of my VW and started home. We had gone about a mile when my throttle cable broke. Of course it was on a very busy and well lit street. Don’t envision this happening in today’s world. Think about it happening in a world of no cell phones…
Picture me bending over the rear end of my bug, in my mini-skirt. On second thought don’t! I did have my own underwear on, but still, don't do it. By the time I realized I couldn’t fix it myself, I had already been honked at several times.

We needed to get to a phone, in a big hurry! There were a couple of brightly lit stores that were pretty close by. They both had public phones, but I insisted that we just pass right by them and walk into the residential area.

I stopped at the first house that had lights on. We called a tow truck and went back to the car and waited. Of course the tow truck driver couldn’t stop smiling while he hooked up my car. I explained the “rules” of the party to him, but he just shook his head and kept smiling.

I’ve never gone out in public dressed in women’s clothing again. Wait, I mean I’ve never dressed in women’s clothing again.
Well Jamie, I hope that answers your question…

News

2011-01-29T10:46:00.000-08:00

Two quick updates:

1.) Kaiser had his eye surgery and it was cheaper than I thought and his eye looks amazing. You can't tell there was ever a big pink gland sticking out.

He also has to wear the cone of shame for 10 days, which is just as much fun for him and us as you can imagine it would be. I'm pretty sure I have half circle bruises on my ass from when Kaiser sprints past me without allowing clearance room for the cone. It's annoying but it is hilarious too.

2.) I got into the design program at OSU!!! Whee!! There were 70 candidates this year, so I beat out at least 52 other people. It sucks though because some of my friends didn't make it, and one person was wait-listed. What a kick in the ass. But anyway, I'm in, so now I know what the next three years of my life are going to be. Woot woot! I'm really excited :-)

One of Those Mornings

2011-01-28T07:44:00.000-08:00

I don't even have to explain, you already know what I'm talking about when I say, "One of those mornings." This one occurred because of a meeting.

Generally I try to avoid meetings.... I never have anything I can add because I'm not directly involved in the projects they're covering and I don't really need any of the information being exchanged in it. I think my boss has caught on to my general distaste for them because he stopped asking me to go to them on a regular basis. Or maybe it's because of days like Wednesday.

I will be the first to admit that I've let myself go a little at work. I used to wear nothing but stilettos and dress shirts with matching accessories. Now I shlump in wearing brown uggs under my black dress pants and I have a hoodie on every day. I'm going to say that a huge reason why I look dumpier is because I freeze my fucking ass off at work (unable to maintain body heat + sitting under vent + near window = frozen Cake). I'm old enough now and get seen seldom enough since I no longer do customer service that I'd rather just be warm and comfortable and get more sleep than get up and do my hair every day. Most days this doesn't matter because I see the same five people every day.

Wednesday I got a text at 9:50am from my direct boss, asking me to "bring a sign in sheet to our 10:00 meeting." Now, the meeting was on my calendar, but he never asks me to go to his meetings anymore, so I didn't know I was supposed to be there. And I looked like shit. Really. But, it should be fine, probably just the normal crowd.

WRONG. Not only do I get in there 10 minutes late, there are about 20 people in there including my boss, the head of our department, and the head administrator for the city.

There are engineers from other companies there, discussing our biggest project. The head of our department had told my boss before that I needed to dress a little more appropriately (because at one point I was wearing a hoodie that was five sizes too big and supplementing that with a pink fleece Scottie dog blankie), so me looking bad has been an issue before. And I roll in looking like I'd just crawled out of a burlap sack of fighting cats... in front of the three people who are most critical to me keeping my job. Guess where the only empty seat at the entire table is?

It was terrible. I was so embarrassed. My hair was a grease bomb, I had on a maroon hoodie that probably wasn't really work appropriate and I was covered in dog hair because I had to take Kaiser in for his eye surgery that morning.

I told myself I was going home after school that evening and doing my nails, my hair, changing my makeup, ironing some dress clothes, and *gasp* shaving my legs. I was going to clean up and never embarrass my boss again.

I'm sure you can guess what happened. And just in case you can't.... I took a picture in all of my full, no makeup, unadulterated morning glory. Happy Friday!

My First Blog Award

2011-01-24T09:01:00.000-08:00

Guess what I got? You probably can figure it out by the title of this post. I got this award from the lovely and charming Goofy Girl at There is Grandeur in this View of Life. She's currently overseas visiting Scotland and London (are you back in London?) and has a lot of great pictures and cute stories. You should totally check her shit out right meow.

*Edit - Way to go Tara, post the damn thing without actually posting the award. Who's going to nominate me for a 'Special' Person award?

There are also some rules that go with this award:

1. Thank and link back to the person who gave this award to you.

Thank you miss, and her link is provided above.

2. Share 7 things about yourself

- I would eat nuclear waste if it had melted cheese on top of it.

- I always wanted to be a lefty. I used to practice writing with my left hand. I even started a left-handed journal in a notebook made for left-handed people. Eventually it got old and I abandoned that quest, but I always thought left-handed people were cool. Weird?

- I have a tendon phobia. I can't stand to be touched on the backs of my knees, the insides of my elbows, on the top of my hand by my thumb (if I make a claw hand I have a huge dip in my thumb where the skin stretches over the tendon), or on my wrists - anywhere tendons are visible. It gives me goose-bumps just thinking about it.

- I can still do cartwheels.... if I stretch out for like 15 minutes. I made the mistake of doing a cartwheel once without stretching..... painwow. When I was little we'd spend all recess doing cartwheels and handstands and headstands. I can't imagine popping up on my hands like I did when I was 7. That'd be a great party trick today.

- I used to be really painfully shy and introverted. Now I love meeting new people and making new friends and hanging out with just about anyone. I still find this new personality aspect strange and blame my father who says that he's shy but makes random friends everywhere he goes.

- I want to learn to the play the violin. I think it's amazingly gorgeous. The only thing I would want more is to be able to sing (well).

- A single nice comment on my blog will make my day. Seriously.

3. Award 15 recently discovered great bloggers

Okay, I don't want to purposely break this rule, but here's the thing: I follow a lot of blogs by people who have a million other followers and don't give a rats ass if I follow them or not. I don't feel like it would be appreciated if I gave these people awards. I'm just common folk, ya know.

Lin @ Linny's Vault

Midwestern Mama @ Are You Serious

Chi Town @ Chi Town Southerner

Pat @ Patrick Tillett

Maggie @ From Monarchs to Ladybugs

Brooke @ Learning the Language of Brooke Farmer

Miley @ Musings of a Confused Woman

Kristy @ She Just Walks Around With It

Rambling Hutch @ Sporadic Sporkitudes

Rachel @ The Rachel Chronicles

So I only came up with 10 people that I follow that I think might actually communicate with me and/or appreciate an award. That's it folks. I'm always looking for new blogs to read to pass ~~the time at work~~ the day so if you read my blog and you have your own blog, leave me a comment! In fact, leave me comments anyway. I lurves them. And you.

4. Contact these bloggers and tell them about the award.

And..... scene.

More Family on Family Violence

2011-01-21T10:36:00.000-08:00

I was pretty surprised by the amount of people that liked my story about my dad stabbing me in the hand. I thought, "Is there another incident of familial violence I can spin into a funny story?" And then I remembered the time I hurt my sister Rachel. I was maybe 11 (read: old enough to know better) which would have made her 6. Here's a possible child pornography picture of Rachel and myself at what I assume is that age:

Rachel flashing her panties... I'm sure when I said pornographic everyone that knows me assumed I was the one being indecent.

It started out innocently enough; Rachel and I were in the kitchen, and I was balancing a can of Dinosaur Spaghettios on my head, you know, like you do.

I had gotten into this phase where I was super intent on balancing things on my body. I spent a lot of time in the garage and driveway learning how to balance a broom on one finger, and this also translated to balancing things on my head. No, I'm not joking. I was damn proud of the fact that I could hold a broom on my finger in the air longer than anyone I challenged.

Anyway...... So I'm balancing this can, feeling pretty awesome, when mom comes in to make sure I'm not having any fun at all. She doesn't want me balancing that can on my head because it could fall off and hurt Rachel.

Who cared about Rachel?? Couldn't she see I was working on my balancing?

Of course as soon as she left the room I went right back to my stupendous can balance. And not even thirty seconds later that can slid off the top of my head, and of all directions it could have gone, it went directly into Rachel's face.... and broke her nose.

We actually didn't realize her nose was broken at the time. We didn't realize it until five or six years later when she had grown some more and her nose developed an ever-so-slight hook on the top. And she discovered she couldn't breathe out of it properly. Whoopsies!

Last year it was confirmed that it had been broken and she had to have surgery to open her nasal passages. Here's an awesome picture of her with frozen coconut on her face after the surgery.

She looks THRILLED to be able to breathe again!

I'm pretty much the best sister that ever existed.

You know though, I feel that my actions were just carrying on a tradition that has been upheld in my family for two generations now. When my mom was ten, her sister Ellen (who was eleven) broke her nose by hitting her in the face with the heel of a shoe. At least I didn't actually hit Rachel... I got a can to do my dirty work.

And one last closing question: Did you ever do stuff like this to your younger siblings when they slept?

Kaiser Update

2011-01-19T10:49:00.000-08:00

I've talked about our Great Dane Kaiser before and all his medical problems and expenses. Despite what a pain in the ass he is, we both love him to pieces and he's basically our child. He seems to require the type of attention a child would need (vs. a dog) and we do a fair amount of worrying about him. If he gets sick or throws up we're both watching him like a hawk, just waiting for the day when his stomach bloats or his hip pops out of socket.

Last week we were in bed when I was slightly woken up by the sound of coughing/retching. I wasn't fully awake yet until I heard the sound of puking, and I immediately flew out of bed and ran into the guest bedroom. As a reward for getting older and more mature and trustworthy we've been letting him sleep in the bed in there instead of his cage at night. Anyway, throwing up is one of the first signs of bloat, and you have only hours to save a dog who has bloated. So we take upset stomachs very seriously.

As I rounded the corner this is what I saw:

Kaiser was lying on the ground, instead of on the bed, in a huge puddle of foam. I assumed a few things in that second: that he had bloated during the night and crawled off the bed to try to get to us or downstairs but hadn't made it very far. He'd been puking foam or whatever it was and I hadn't heard him until now. And with that amount of stomach contents on the ground, I thought we were too late and he was probably not going to make it. This is at 12:30am.

I woke Justin up with my "OH MY GOD" and he jumped out of bed. It was at this point I flicked on the lights, ready to jump into action and save him.

I was a bit premature in my half-asleep state. He had actually gotten wrapped up in the blanket, somehow gotten to the floor with it, and had really only tossed a few pieces of dog food that he had inhaled without chewing. He was totally fine, and excited to see me at this early time of the morning. Needless to say I was relived, but my adrenaline continued to pump for another thirty or forty minutes before I was able to go back to sleep. Add that to Fun with Kaiser.

Speaking of expensive, I scheduled Kaiser's surgery for his cherry eye. I starved him the night before like you're supposed to and my Mom drove to Columbus to drop him off since I had to work. They put him under and started to work on his eye when they realized that it wasn't normal cherry eye. He has something called a "Prolapse of the Third Eyelid". What they told me was the cartilage that holds his eyelid in place is actually growing up and out (instead of in?) and is pushing the gland out of his eye.

Cute Xmas pic, huh?

Soooooo we have to schedule another surgery with an eye specialist at OSU. I'm sure that'll be cheap, right? Then he'll have to wear a collar for a few weeks. I can't WAIT!

The Time My Dad Shivved Me

2011-01-12T08:55:00.000-08:00

This is a ridiculous story from my childhood. I can't remember why I was discussing it but I remember asking my mom last week, "Remember when Dad stabbed me?"

I should probably preface this by saying that my dad is not a mean, cruel, or hurtful person in any way, shape, or form. Ironically enough my dad was all about safety when I was a kid (I had the bike helmet, knee pads, elbow pads, etc and I was forced against my will to wear them). So much so that my friends nicknamed him "Safety Sam" even though his real name is Steve which would have been another perfectly acceptable alliteration and actually preferable... but whatever.

Anyway.

One night when I was about six we were sitting at the table eating dinner when dad picked his fork up and held it above my hand like he was going to stab me.

Thinking this little game was hilarious I quick pulled my hand away before the fork hit the table.

Haha! Look at me and my lightning fast reflexes!

Haha! This game is so much fun!

How was it even possible that I failed all my reaction-time tests at the science fair in our gym? I'm like quicksilver!

You know where this is going. In all my infinite wisdom I decided to see what he'd do if I didn't move my hand at all.

I still think this story is hilarious, and I remind my dad about it once every few years. To be fair he didn't actually hurt me very bad, maybe just broke the skin. I'm pretty sure I screamed like he had driven the fork through my hand and into the table though and made sure he felt guilty for it for a long time afterward.

Worst Question Ever

2011-01-11T06:23:00.000-08:00

You know how when you meet someone or are getting to know someone, you ask that person questions about himself or herself to get a feel for that person? Generally I am okay with this Q&A, but there is one question I absolutely abhor:

What kind of music do you listen to?

I know some people are all about this question and can't wait to tell you who their favorite bands are. They like music, they identify with it, it shapes their world and speaks to them. They want to express themselves through the music they listen to and love. And if you haven't ever heard of their bands or the music they listen to you, you are OUT. I call these people music snobs. I think Justin is a borderline music snob. I asked him to provide me with exactly how much music he has in technical terms, and how much that is in layman's terms because I'm not a computer geek like he is and that stuff doesn't make a bit of sense to me. Here was his response:

I have 301.98 Gigs of music.

This is approximately 51,545 songs

which would take approximately:

4,690.6 hours, or 195.4 days, or 27.9 weeks, or a little over 1/2 a year of consistent listening, 24 hours a day, no repeats to listen to.

Justin can easily tell you about his favorite music and he can name off bands that are "good" bands, that will let people know he is "deep" and "intelligent" and "artistic". I'm going to let you in on a secret - I am not in to music. I listen to it, I like it, I'll sing along to it in my car. But I don't really seek out new music, I can never remember who the name of the band is, I think live music at a bar is a snore, and I update my iPod maaaaaaybe once every four months. I have extremely shallow taste in music. If I can sing to it, shake my ass to it, or it gives me good vibes, then I like it. This means my tastes tend to fall mostly into pop and indie music.

I hesitated to even ADMIT that! My fingers paused on the keyboard while I stared at that sentence wondering if I was making a mistake. I feel like you all have just judged me right now. "Pop and indie music? JEEZ, what a shallow talentless whore. I bet she barely passed third grade and her deepest conversations are about Jersey Shore and what outfit she's wearing to the club this weekend!"

I don't think that I am a shallow person. I don't think I'm a person that is easy to peg into any one 'category' either. My tastes and interests are far flung. I always say I'm like Walmart - I know a little bit about everything but not a whole lot about any one thing. And I tend to think that most people feel that they are complex individuals as well. That's why I haaaaaaate this question. You are automatically pegged into a category based on what your answer is. In this case, I don't feel like my honest answer would convey me in the way I would like to represent myself based on the way I think people will respond.

The reason I bring this up is because classes started last Tuesday. The first thing the teacher asked us was this stupid question. Wonderful. Just wonderful. That is exactly what I wanted to do this morning - be judged by a whole classroom full of my peers!!

And you know I'm right. Everyone makes judgments on what kind of person you are based on your response to this question. And just in case you have no idea what I'm talking about, here is the kind of person you are going to be judged as if you tell someone this is your favorite kind of music and they are not in to the same music as you:

1.) Pop - e.g. Katy Perry, Ke$ha, Rihanna, Enrique Iglasias, Bruno Mars, etc.
I feel like this is tantamount to admitting you are unable to think for yourself.

2.) Techno - e.g. Freaky Goes to Amsterdam, RA, Alexey Koltar
I'm not quite sure that anyone ever says they like Techno anymore (am I dating myself here?) but they're out there. And they're tryin' to touch their face or yours.

3.) Rock (or Shlock Rock as we call it)- Hinder, Creed, Tool, Nickleback, etc.
Because you're probably still living in your mom's basement thinking you're simultaneously bad ass and deep.

4.) Metal - e.g. Slayer, Slipknot, Megadeth, Lamb of God, etc.
You probably haven't bathed in a while and you might look like a child molester.

5.) Indie - There is no example for this because all the best Indie bands are bands that no one else has heard of.
Hipsters might be one of the most hated groups of people I've come across in a long time. They don't care though, cause they've got their 80's shades, their ironic tattoos, their flannel shirts, PBR, and disdain for everything.

6.) Country - e.g. Tim McGraw, Kenny Chesney, George Strait, Rascal Flatts, Lady Antebellum, etc.
Because how many songs can you write about your girl leaving you and taking your dog, your tractor, your pick-up truck, or your man cheatin' on you?

7.) Gansta Rap - e.g. Das EFX, ODB, Ghostface Killah, Wu-Tang Clan, etc.
You probably just shot someone in the hood for frontin' on ya game. Or you want everyone to think you did.

8.) Alt Rock - U2, Dave Matthews Band, Coldplay, Rage Against the Machine, etc.
You are passionate about any causes these bands tell you are important and you know how much better a place the world could be if everyone would just, you know, listen to the music man!

You can easily spot other people who hate this question and don't want to be judged because they look uncomfortable for a second and then say: "I listen to everything but country."

Because there's just no cool way to admit you like country music.

My next class was right after that one and the teacher asked everyone what their favorite restaurant in Columbus was. I had plenty of answers for that.

IT'S FINALLY DONE!

2011-01-10T07:19:00.000-08:00

My exam! I finished it! It's over! And here I am in my messy house eating it!

Notice how there are still Christmas decorations up on the left? And in case you were wondering, yes, that is Justin's cage.

Back to regularly scheduled programing soon.

2010 Wrap Up

2011-01-05T06:38:00.000-08:00

Hey Ever-buddi.

Once again I'm going to pull that "I'm super effing busy" line on you guys, and I apologize, but I am super effing busy. The holidays were insane combined with the fact that I was working like a mad woman to get my Design Exam completed, buy last minute Christmas presents, make plans, bake and decorate, and see friends and family without losing my mind. I honestly don't even remember the week between Christmas and New Years. Classes started back up yesterday and I'm doing that part time plus 35 hours of work and finishing the exam, which is due Monday and frankly I'm a little nervous. If you read my blog regularly you probably already know that. Keep your fingers crossed for me if you will and I'll let you know the results (whether you want them or not) by late January or early February.

I was feeling pretty guilty about not having posted anything in like two weeks (I swear I've got some coming down the pipes though) and then I stumbled across this idea on Learning the Language of Brooke Farmer. Brooke writes a fantastic blog - check her out.

She actually stole this idea from someone else, but the idea was to post the top ten posts determined by stats. I say screw that, I'm going to post six of my favorites because a few of you folks (if you're still reading by now) are new to my blog and may not have read some of the older shit that I got a chuckle out of writing. So here it is in no particular order, feast my new friends! And to my dear tried-and-true friends, I wubs you, I'll be working on new posts ASAP.

1. The Different Types of Assholes
2. Adventures with Crackhead Bum
3. Fun with Kaiser
4. Open Letter to Shamansky Real Estate
5. Family Christmas Letter - I was so busy this year we didn't have time to make a 2010 letter :-(
6. One of the Top Five Reasons I'm Going Back to School

Christmas Just Isn't as Magical

2010-12-24T06:00:00.000-08:00

WARNING: DO NOT LET SMALL CHILDREN READ THIS

or you will have a lot of explaining to do

Okay so now that's out of the way.... over the last few years I've found that Christmas is suddenly just upon me. When I was a kid it seemed like Christmas took forever to get here. Every day I woke up in excitement and ticked off the days but it always felt so far away. I don't know about you, or if you celebrate Christmas, but Christmas was always a big deal in our house and it was always a magical time of year for me. To this day the smell of a Christmas tree (a REAL ONE... we don't get no fake trees in our house) is my favorite smell, and I think it's because of my childhood Christmases.

Over the last few years Christmas just hasn't felt as magical. The snow is a life-threatening, time consuming gray sludge, not magical fluffy white stuff that I could roll in, build with, and eat. Although I look forward to Christmas and really enjoy this time of year (aside from the cold), it just isn't as enchanting and exciting anymore. Whenever it came up in conversation I always say something like, "Ever since I found out the big man wasn't for real, Christmas hasn't been as magical."

Then one day I was driving home, thinking it'd be so much easier to just drive my car off the road into a ditch instead of trying to get everything done and it dawned on me - it's not my disbelief in Santa that has made Christmas less magical. That's not it at all. I've drawn pictures to illustrate why, I feel, Christmas is less magical for me as an adult than it was for me as a child.

I'm pretty sure I've figured out where the magic went.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, Happy Winter Solstice, Merry Yule, or whatever else you celebrate. I hope your holidays are magical.

With love from Cake Betch, Justin, and our semi-retarded dane Kaiser.

My Mom Says I Curse Too Much on My Blog

2010-12-22T10:26:00.000-08:00

She says the cursing might offend some people, and someday if an employer reads my blog I might not get hired (or I could get fired).

To address the offensive part: I gave some thought to this, and I tried to clean up my ~~mouth~~ type a little, but I just can't help it. I like expletives. They're so colorful, so definitive, bold, unflinching.... and crude. I do use curse words in my every day vocabulary, but not quite as much as I do in my blog. Why? I'm not sure, but I know I like to use them to really drive home certain points. I did however change the blog settings to "over 18" or "questionable adult content" or whatever it actually says so that people are forewarned. And for you, dear reader, if cursing offends you, this blog is probably not for you. But if you're a foul mouthed son of a bitch like me, we should have some fun! Whhheeeeeeee!!

And for the employer part: This actually concerned me a little more. I'm sure it wouldn't take very long for any employer or future employer to figure out who I am and read my blog and I think they could very easily get the wrong idea about me from my blog. This blog is my 'party' side, my 'fun, crude, rude, tell it like it is' side. I have another side, and that is Business Cake Betch. I can flip between Party Cake Bitch and Business Cake Betch with the drop of a hat. I can walk like, talk like, look like, and be a consummate professional. I'm educated, well read, can easily hold a friendly business-appropriate conversation with anyone, and I know what is and isn't appropriate in the workplace. I've gotten every job I've ever applied for except for one (but I had absolutely no qualifications for it). Justin told me the first time he met me (at work) he thought I was a consultant of some sort. The point I'm trying to make here is that Party Cake Betch knows where her time and place is.

And you know what? I don't know if I want to work for someone who can't appreciate a little crudeness and humor in an appropriate venue, so there.

Here is a pictorial explanation of the spread between Business Cake Betch and Party Cake Betch. I'd like to explain it using this glorious mullet because, of course, mullets are business in the front and party in the back. Just like me!

Okay, this is Business Cake Betch. No cursing, clean, well dressed, gotten plenty of sleep, bright, and chipper. Ready for a business meeting, talking with clients, or giving a speech. No flashy clothes, nothing that stands out in any way. I can't offend people, I don't look trendy, and I basically blend in with all the other suits.

This is for days that I know I'll only be in the office, or if I'm in a more relaxed atmosphere where people are allowed to be a little more individual. Might go for the cute curly hair, and I'd add some nice jewelry that otherwise might be too "flashy". I feel comfortable rolling my sleeves up and I've probably got some cute heels on instead of nondescript neutral shoes.

Most companies I've worked for let you wear jeans on Fridays. By Friday I've probably lost a lot of sleep and so I've slept on my hair and had to do it in such a way that it isn't obvious that I have bed head. I'll usually put on a more casual short sleeved shirt, and might even do some bright jewelry so I don't feel invisible.

Yay! It's the weekend! I can stop talking like a smart, witty, graceful politician and be that girl at the bar that drinks beer, eats nachos, and burps! I can wear jeans that have some holes or have been dyed, and I can wear a t-shirt. And I can DRINK!

Then there is the Cake Betch has had a rough week or needs an excuse to drink. It's also the Cake Betch you generally get on my blog. The outrageous party say anything Cake Betch you all know and (hopefully?) love.

Any employer that doesn't want to hire ME obviously doesn't know what he or she is missing! And any employer that DOES want to hire me after reading my blog... CONTACT ME! I think we could get along fabulously.

My Tuesdays and Thursdays are Killing Me

2010-12-16T17:44:00.000-08:00

I am ridiculously stressed out about the month-long exam I have to complete to get into the Vis Comm program at OSU. Only 18 people get in every year and about 75 to 100 apply. I have to get in. I don't want to be any older than 30 when I'm back out in the 'real' world. I need this so bad I can taste it. Because of that I am severely stressed out. Everyone all quarter talked about how difficult the exam was, how they spent the entire month on it, bla bla bla. I've had it for 12 days (I think) and I've made progress, but I don't feel like I'm doing anything amazing or novel, which is what they're looking for. One part that is stressing me out the most - I have to explain how to change a tire on a car with no text, only drawings.

I realize I'm out of control, and I'm being ridiculous, but I can't help it. I think about the exam on the hour every hour I'm awake, and if I'm not working on it my stress level rises because I feel like I'm running out of time. When I do work on it I stress out because I feel like it has to be no less than perfect, and perfect is a pretty subjective thing when you're dealing with design.

So in order to make sure I have enough time to get this exam done, I kept to my schedule from this quarter which means I leave work at 12:30, get home at 1:00, and have the rest of the night to work on stuff for the exam. The last three weeks have been spent working on this tire problem, and this is basically how the day proceeds at one:

I get home and am optimistic, fresh, ready to draw.

I draw for about an hour. Realize that my ideas aren't very sweet and I'm not really coming up with anything new. I have to make this process make sense in a very small amount of space.

Okay, so things aren't going quite as swimmingly as I thought. That circle isn't very good, that part is confusing, how the fuck do I express with a drawing "in order to change a tire, you need these things:"?

Two or three hours have passed. I haven't made much progress and I'm still hung up on a few illustrations that just aren't performing like I want them to. I think, "This is the best I can do", then I think, "If I draw this ten more times, will it be better?" And I know the answer is yes. But I really, REALLY, don't want to draw it ten more times.

It's around this time I start inserting activities to break up the stress, to try to get back to ground zero. Anyone on my Facebook can testify to the fact that I generally don't update my status that often - except for Tuesdays and Thursdays, when I start updating statuses and commenting on other people's stuff like I've OD'ed on caffeine and have absolutely nothing else to do with myself. I can't help it. I need a distraction.

Usually this fails to help me. Looming right behind me is that fucking tire changing problem. Staring at the back of my head, waiting for me to remember that I need to work on it and recommence freaking out. Eventually I get back to it.

At this point (around 8:00pm) I'm pretty well fucked. Nothing makes sense, I've already started drinking, I've eaten everything in sight (Tara eats her feelings) and have cleaned, used the bathroom, fixed my makeup, opened and closed blinds, and paced around the room more than any sane person should.

At this point I'm coiled so tightly the slightest little problem could send me into a nuclear style melt down. I'm old so my eyes have been strained from six and a half hours of drawing and looking at the computer and not only can I not see straight, I can barely draw. My eyes are literally bloodshot and focusing independently of one another.

There is only one thing left to do in order to be able to sleep after this:

It is what it is.

I should mention today is Thursday. And it's 8:40. That should be all the more explanation you need as to why my MS Paint drawings are a little more sloppy than they normally are and nothing has been proof-read.

The one upside is I know I'm going to be sleeping pretty soundly tonight.

Open Letter to Shamansky Real Estate Holdings

2010-12-13T08:55:00.000-08:00

Dear Shamansky Real Estate Holdings,

I'm not even sure if you're the actual owner of these apartment buildings because they're so shitty they don't have any name, sign, or webpage. The Auditor's webpage tells me that you are the proud owner of this mark of land that God shat on to create in 1963, so this letter is addressed to you, assuming you are responsible for the maintenance and cleaning work done here.

As you may or may not have noticed, your shitty little apartment complex is totally surrounded by houses. As such you not only need to think about your own jobless / crazy cat lady / sex offender residents, you need to be considerate of everyone else on the street whenever you are doing work that could be considered a disruption.

You know what this morning was? Monday. You know what I was doing at 5:29am?

SLEEPING! Good! Reasonable too, I might add, that you would think I was SLEEPING at FIVE TWENTY NINE AM.

Okay, now guess what I was doing at 5:30am?

SURPRISE! I'm startled awake by a horde of African killer bees descending upon my house!

Wait a minute.... that isn't a horde of killer bees... that sounds an awful lot like a snowblower. Maybe if I just wait a minute it'll stop and I can fall back asleep.

HAHA! NOPE!

So, Shamansky, I got out of bed and went into the guest bedroom to see what could possibly be making so much fucking noise and GUESS WHAT? It was your maintenance team! Scraping the sidewalks and snow-blowing SO LOUD it sounded like you were cleaning out my eardrums.

If it was that loud in my house, across the street and one house down, I can only imagine how loud it was for your residents. One of your guys had taken his snow shovel right up to the door and was scraping against it. I'm guessing the residents had been up all night drinking and hitting the crack pipe and were too far gone to hear him, because if I were living there I probably would have opened my door and punched that guy in the face.

Now don't get me wrong, I understand that the service you provide here is a totally necessary one, and frankly, I wish someone would come scrape and snow-blow my sidewalks. However, I think maybe you can understand that FIVE THIRTY A.M. might not be the most appropriate time to be performing these services.

In closing, Shamansky, I just want to let you know that I'm going to be making a trip to my local hunting supplies store to pick up a high-powered rifle.

Then, if I ever get jarred out of my bed again by the sound of a snow blower at FIVE FUCKING THIRTY A.M., instead of lying in bed wishing hell would open up and swallow your entire shit-hole apartment complex, I will instead spend my lost hour of precious sleep brushing up on my target practice.

Thank you, and fuck off, you inconsiderate ass-hat bastards,

<3 Cake Betch

Sorry I Got Fat

2010-12-03T09:39:00.000-08:00

First off... sorry again for my disappearance. Between work, school, the holidays, and life, I have had very little time for anything. And that means the blog. The quarter just ended yesterday and all I have to do now is handle my month-long exam to get into design (Visual Communication to be exact). OSU only accepts 18 students into Vis Com per year, and between 75 and 100 apply. So I have my work cut out for me. Apparently my absence has cast doubt into your hearts because I lost a follower over the last week :-( FINE! Go! I don't need you anyway. *tear*

Anywaaaaaay. So, I'm just going to come right out and say it. I got fat. Actually, both Justin and I have gotten fat. I've known about my extra padding for quite some time now, but Justin just recently stumbled upon his own a few days before Thanksgiving. I found this in my inbox:

StinkyBritches

to me

show details Nov 23

lets play, Guess how much Justin has balooned up since he started dating Tara:

You go first (keep in mind that i was 180-184 for 3 years prior to us):

Tara

to Justin

show details Nov 23

Why do you say "since he started dating Tara" like it's my fault??

StinkyBritches

to me

show details Nov 23

I'm enacting a state of emergency regarding all consumables. I am on lockdown meaning it's every man for himself from now on. I'm going to just eat soup.

And with that I was on my own. I left off how much weight he said he gained because I'm not sure how vain he is and whether or not I would be allowed to post it. Let me state for the record that Justin is 6"5. Don't you think that 180-184 for a 6"5 dude is pretty thin? Seriously, he doesn't look fat.
** UPDATE: He said I could post it. He weighs 215 now.

Thanksgiving was obviously a gut buster for us. We're both big foodies, and both our families have healthy appetites. We loooooooooooove Thanksgiving.

Justin took a picture of our refrigerator after we packed the leftovers from both dinners in. Other than the booze and the lonely smushed bottle of salad dressing everything you see is some kind of left-over.

Awesome, because I hate cooking. Not awesome for the whole diet thing, because it's all been made with about 30lbs of butter and fat. If I had to guess, I'd say I probably put on five pounds over Thanksgiving weekend. I was in a constant state of overly-full for four days.

When we first started dating we had both been working out regularly. We tried to keep running but once we moved into Columbus we got lazy. Not to mention there's so much more good food around here than there was in the suburbs, and a coffee shop (my personal kryptonite) within walking distance. Fast forward after one year of this:

So my goal is to start eating healthier, cut back on the booze, eat less, and get more exercise. I don't think I will ever be as thin as I was (at my thinnest I was surviving on a diet of cottage cheese, fruit, and shots), but I could totally stand to lose about 15lbs. Honestly I haven't weighed myself in weeks because I'm afraid I'll slit my wrists but I know where I want to be, and I'm going to guess that's about 15lbs away.

Here's the problem - I hate exercising. I know that the best thing to do is to find an activity that you enjoy so that you're having fun not exercising. But I hate playing sports. I can't always run outside and I go bonkers after 10 minutes on a treadmill. Lifting weights is boring.

I would love to try swimming because a.) I'm a good swimmer and b.) I enjoy swimming, but I'd have to join a gym or rec center to get access to a pool, and I'm not particularly wild about the idea of strangers seeing me in a bathing suit.

I also love horseback riding (which is how I lost 20 of the first 60lbs without even trying in 2005) but it is expensive. I got a card from a guy that does lessons on North American Spotted Drafts, Percherons, and Friesians. For those of you who are no horse people and have no idea WTF I'm talking about:

Percheron

Friesian

North American Spotted Draft

I just think it would be totally badass to learn how to ride a horse this massive. Then I'll make myself a warrior outfit and ride it around and hit people with a cardboard sword.

After much giddiness and excitement though I found out the guy's stable was an hour and twenty minutes away from my house. Sad panda.

To draw a long winded, pointless, rambling blog to a close... do you exercise? And if so, what do you do? What works best for you? I need some pointers. Pointers about diet would be welcomed too.

Addition: The Ingrate Asshole

2010-11-24T07:08:00.000-08:00

Did you ever read my blog about the different types of assholes? If not this won't make a ton of sense. You should check that out first.

And now - one of the assholes that I left out: The Ingrate Asshole

You know what I really appreciate? I appreciate it when traffic is bumper to bumper and I need to get over and someone slows down to let me over into their lane. Or someone at a red light waves and lets me make a turn in front of them onto the road. You know how I show my appreciation? A wave. It's really simple, it doesn't even have to be a wave. Sometimes I just jab my hand into the air and splay my fingers and show them my palm. It's super easy, it takes only a mere second, and I don't have to use any muscles other than the ones in my arm and voila!- I've shown that I appreciate someone being friendly and helpful.

So it really chaps my ass when I wave someone out in front of me or let someone over and they do not acknowledge what an amazing humanitarian I am. A few days ago someone did this to me - someone driving a GOLF CART.

I have to drive right through the middle of a golf course (don't ask me why they decided to split the damn thing in half with a road) to get to and from work every day. I already hate driving by golf courses because of the time a golf ball went through my dad's windshield when I was like three or four. Having glass in my hair and my mom screaming because she though I was hurt forever stamped a fear of golf courses in me.

So I'm driving and I come to a four way stop that leads to a neighborhood on either side. Since the golf course is right behind the the neighborhood it is not uncommon to see people driving their golf carts through this intersection. As I approach some older guy is sitting in a golf cart with his leg hanging off the side on the sidewalk giving me the stank eye. There was nothing wrong with his leg by the way, he was just making himself comfortable. Since he was already way ahead of me, I stop and wave at him to go ahead and cross. He continues to stare at me. I wave to him again to go ahead and cross. He continues to stare.

I wave once more. He finally sees me. Turns his head and starts to drive across the road.

Surely, this nice old man just looks like he's giving me the stank eye and is probably appreciative of the fact that this young kid has such good manners and is letting him drive his 200lb golf cart across the road at a mile per hour when instead she could have blazed through the intersection without even looking at him.

He's just going to get up to speed and then he'll wave, I'm sure.

No one is that big of a douche to not wave to someone in a car when they're driving through an intersection in a fucking golf cart in golf clothes they probably paid $500 for because they're rolling in dough and therefore think it's perfectly fucking normal to be golfing in the middle of the day on a work week.

No. Snubbed.

The next time I see that bastard driving his golf cart I'm going to wave him across the road again and when he takes off I'm going to pop the clutch and floor it at him. We'll see how smart and comfortable he feels in his fucking GOLF CART then.

Girly Survey

2010-11-20T10:02:00.000-08:00

So I woke up this morning to discover that Goofy Girl over at There is Grandeur in this View of Life tagged me in a girly chain linky survey thing. I'm sitting under a blanket right now with my big dumb dog leaning on my arm and I'm procrastinating so that I don't have to start in on the gigantic overwhelming mound of school stuff I need to accomplish this weekend and for the next two weeks, so, here we go:

1. Why did you create the blog?
I think Goofy Girl hit the nail on the head when she said people usually start a blog because they like to write. I didn't really start my blog with the intention of it being a humor blog but it's not like anything exciting happens in my life so what the hell else am I going to write about? I do really enjoy making people laugh though, and I always love to get feedback and hear what people have to say on what I write. It's a great way to connect with people too.

2. What kind of blogs do you follow?
I think my favorite blogs typically tend to be: humorous blogs (whether they're strictly for comedy or the writer just happens to always have a good funny slant to their work), blogs about food, cake, or cupcakes, and blogs from people who have or are currently living in difficult times or have been through difficult situations. There might be one or two inspirational or otherwise random blogs thrown in there, but that generally tends to be where my interests lie.

3. Favourite makeup brand?
Would you believe I really don't know? I know that I have been buying the same Cover Girl black eyeliner since the day I started wearing makeup (because that's the eyeliner my girlfriend used and I tried hers the first time I ever put on makeup). I'm pretty sure the eyeshadow I use is Cover Girl too, and maybe even the mascara. Honestly I don't put a whole lot of weight on the brand I'm using because I'm pretty cheap when it comes to buying makeup and if I can get it at Kroger I'm happy.

4. Favourite clothing brand?

When you're built like me, your favorite clothing brand is whatever fits. I can tell you when I was thinner that I always looked amazing in Hydraulic jeans, but I don't know if they fit me anymore because I haven't bought a pair in a really long time and my old ones don't fit. Insert frowny face here.... I have a lot of things from American Rag that I really love. Both of those lines can be found at Macys btw.

5. Your indispensable makeup product?
I wear eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara, and blush and that's it. It takes me all of three minutes to put on. If it's a special night or I know I'll be getting lots of pictures taken I will wear foundation and powder. If I could only pick one I would probably go with eyeliner.

6. Your favourite colour?
Black to wear, cerulean blue to look at.

7. Your perfume?
I find that I never like any perfumes as much as I like the smell of men's cologne. Not that I wear cologne, I just kind of boycott perfumes because I'm holding out for them to make something that makes men climb the walls like the smell of Versace or Curve does to me. That being said, I have the original Very Sexy (not the nasty 'squared' version) from Victoria's Secret. I also wanted to buy some that Kat von D makes but I didn't feel like dropping $50 bucks. Perfume will last me for YEAAARS and that Very Sexy is still half full.

8. Your favourite film?
Hmmm. Usually I say 28 Days Later. I also could repeatedly watch: Frida, Hocus Pocus, The Nightmare Before Christmas, and A Life Less Ordinary.

9. What country would you like to visit and why?
I want to go to Italy. It's been a dream for years now. I don't want to just stop in for a week either, I want to go for like a month. In three years I'll have the opportunity to travel abroad for school and I'm thinking that if the suns and moons are aligned that maybe I'll live there for a quarter or a semester or something.

10. Write the last question and answer it yourself: When are you going to start your homework?
I don't know. It's the last thing I want to do. Seeing as how this is the end of the survey I guess it'll be in the next few minutes.

And now for the part where I tag three girls, because I do not believe any of the dudes I follow would be able to fill this out in it's entirety. The first two bloggers are chicks that are regular commenters on my blog and have their own super nifty blogs that you should check out. The third is Amy from Thirty-Six Ten who I believe has commented before but I can't remember. She has a pretty sweet blog with a lot of stuff about the jewelry she makes.

Chi-Town Southerner
[ seriously?! ]
Thirty-Six Ten

I'm not Dead

2010-11-17T09:03:00.000-08:00

Just sort of close. Like zombies but without the eating and stinking. Speaking of, has anyone else been watching Walking Dead? I hear it gets pretty sad. We've been making it a weekly Sunday ritual to drive over to my cousin's house (as we have no cable) and drink beers and watch zombies and cops with skeevy-ho wives.

Anyway, I don't know if anyone cares or even noticed that I've been out for a week but if so, here's my explanation.

I've been so busy with all the things I have going on that I haven't had any time to draw funny pictures or tell funny (?) stories. Last week heralded the start of my teachers giving us our 'big' quarter-end projects. I'm totally effing swamped in school-related work. You would think that drawing would be a piece of cake class, but it kicks my ass. I always leave that class feeling like a turd and like I'm never going to get into the program. I also am really neurotic about making sure I do everything I can to get an A which can really pile the stress on since your berth for bringing the big guns to the show is much wider in an artistic field than it would be in something like Business or Math or Engineering. After this quarter and after I submit my exam I think I will be able to stop being so stressed out. Until then I have to bust my ass.

That and my dad's 60th birthday was Sunday and the week leading up to it was pretty emotional. I wrote him a sappy letter as a present and it was the most difficult thing I've done in a long time because I had to really face the reality that he isn't going to be around forever. That of course goes for my mom too but since it isn't her birthday I didn't have to think about it. There was a lot of build-up to the party and then a bit of drama afterward and a few people with hurt feelings and so on and so forth. One of my best friends got some bad news about a family member. It's been a rough week and a half and I've just been extremely emotional and haven't had any spare time to get to the blog, let alone feel like trying to be funny.

I decided to go on a no refined sugar and no cheese kick this week but it was rainy here and class was canceled (because someone called a bomb threat in on one of the buildings I'm supposed to have class in this afternoon) and the only thing I want to do right now is drive to Cup O Joe and get a coffee and sit in the window and watch it rain. Oh yeah and I can take my Mac and my cat-glasses and look like a total hipster and it'll be awesome. Can't hang out at the coffee shop without trying to look like you're artsy and an activist and doing something super awesome important for the environment or local music scene on your Mac Book Pro.

Things should be calming down here (hopefully...) in the next week or so and I should be able to get around to drawing silly stupid pictures again.