Dream a Little Psycho Dream

Ok so I had the weirdest dream last night. Probably not technically the weirdest dream because once I had a dream that I could fly but reality kept sneaking into my dream so instead of flying I did a lot of falling only to bounce back up into the sky over and over. I ended up doing giant Hulk bounces across the country but none of that has anything to do with last nights' dream so you can just ignore this entire last paragraph if you want.

Last nights' dream featured a serial killer who had a weird signature where the first night he killed someone and removed one body part (which he kept) then the second night he cut off two body parts of his next victim then three from the third victim on the third night and so forth. So gruesome, right?

Dreaming of serial killers is odd, I admit, but it got weirder when the group of friends I was with, who were quite reminiscent of the typical odd bunch found in any slasher horror film, kept going back to the building where the serial killer was at. It's a little unclear as to why the serial killer was continually hanging around that strip mall pharmacy but, hey, serial killers aren't known for their sanity, right?

Now for the strange bunch of friends I was with... the motley group had the typical golden couple who inevitably found a quiet corner to have inappropriately timed monkey sex, the conspiracy theorist who, early on, figured out something wasn't quite right and a dangerously deranged psycho was picking people off one by one, the lovable goofball who managed to joke his way into being the first victim and finally the screaming blonde. You know the one, the one who always ends up in her underwear running and tripping while screaming at everything. Oh and me and my equally fluffy best friend. Who weirdly enough, was not my actual best friend but a girl that I knew from high school who I was not particularly close to. Not sure how she ended up in my dream.

Now if all of that wasn't completely insane enough the gang and I kept going back to that strip mall and to the pharmacy over and over. We'd open the door, see the killer dismembering his latest victim with dental tools??? (subconsciously I must have remembered I really need to make an appointment with my dentist), the unnamed blonde would scream (like Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone) and we'd all scatter (into the building of all things). What followed was a total Scooby Doo montage. The gang being chased into a room by the killer then the gang unbelievably running out from the room across the hall. The lovable goofball (who was alive for the montage purposes) peeking out from the inside of a barrel that didn't go with the pharmacy decor at all but needed to be there, once again, for the montage. Running down a very long hallway was the blonde who was missing her pants and falling every 3 feet.

Finally we'd all meet back up at the front door where we'd barely make it out the door before the killer caught us and we'd all jump into our waiting vehicles and make our escape. Except for me and my bestie. We found ourselves without a vehicle. The golden couple rode off in their pickup. The blonde rode off in her yellow convertable. The conspiracy theorist rode off on his motorcycle. This only left the horse. So my bestie and I jumped on the horse and took off. Now, despite the fact that this horse was full out running while carrying 2 fat chicks, he totally kept up with the rest of the gang. He actually passed the motorcycle to tell the truth. 

It wasn't long after this point that I woke up ending the bizzaro dream but right before I woke, my only thought was... "This horse is freakin' awesome!"

Kim Jong-un or Dennis Rodman...no. no definitely Kim Jong-un. Never mind...just read.

So my girl Renée posted a status today wondering if anyone else found Kim Jong-un bone-chillingly frightening. I never thought about it but yes, yes he is (in a spoiled brat " My weapons of mass destruction are bigger than your weapons of mass destruction" kind of way). Unless you see a political cartoon of him dancing Gangnam Style that you can't get out of your head which makes you laugh (http://www.latimes.com/opinion/topoftheticket/la-na-tt-pudgy-punk-20130402-story.html). Speaking of funny when I did a google search the little bio that pops up of him gave me 5 other people that others had also searched. Kim Jong-il (dead father...check), Kim Il-sung (equally dead grandfather...check), Ri Sol-ju (not dead spouse...check), Kim Jong-nam (brother who also happens to not be dead....check), Dennis Rodman (tattooed basketball playing American....ch..huh?) Apparently because of his recent trip to N.Korea Rodman is now an unofficial ambassador of peace between the US and NK (in his head).

First of all his picture nestled amongst the Asians kind of cracked me up. It reminded me of Sesame Street's "One of these things is not like the others....one of these things doesn't belong..." Second of all I had to then Google Rodman and his trip to NK. I really enjoyed reading his thoughts on the Supreme Leader. “Kim’s not talking about war. Have you seen him talk about going to war? He wants to talk peace — he is serious about that…If he wanted to start a war he would have done it already.”

Really Dennis? Really? Back in January didn't North Korea issue a statement saying that the US was a "sworn enemy of the Korean people" and just a few days after you got back from your vacation of rubbing elbows with Kim Jong-un his government declared they were in 'a state of war' with South Korea. I read somewhere a fan (cough cough) said that Rodman was a real life Forrest Gump who will bumble his way through history. Couldn't agree more.....


Oh and can someone please explain to me why Kim Jong-un's nickname appears to be longer than his actual name? Doesn't that defeat the purpose of having a nickname?

I-uh-I-I-I want the kniiiiiiife......pleeeeeeeease!

I was skimming my Facebook Timeline (thanks a lot for that shit FB!) just to see if I might have missed a life altering post like this....

or this....

And what do I find but one of my Cafe World posts asking for all my FBies (pronounced Phoebes by the way)  to click on as many of my thousands of irritating game posts as they can in order to become one of  mother's little helpers (because barbiturates are so 1960s) and raise me up through the pissant ranks of McDonalds fry cook to Wolfgang Puck greatness for a game that makes us cook deviled eggs for 18 hours and a chicken pot pie for 2 days to reach the ultimate goal of level eleventy-million. But I digress....

This post was just silly as it was asking for help getting me some knife. Truly. Take a Looksee...

So, yeah...in addition to the whole silliness of me needing some knife I now have Eddie Murphy in my head asking for some knife like this....

The Magic is Gone Mike......

......assuming it was even there to begin with of course.

Guess what I went to see tonight. Come on....guess. Party Pooper. Tah-Dah!

All I have to say is it's a good thing that Channing can dance and looks good neked. The best part of the movie was the dancing. There should have been more of it. Seriously. Half the movie has boring characters having dull conversations. Magic Mike tried too hard to have a serious plot instead of being a fun/funny movie.

 Didn't Hollywood learn their lesson from Show Girls?

Anyway, the plot was about, well, I'm not sure what the plot was about actually. A hot male stripper who works a million and a half other jobs but really wants to make custom made furniture yet we never actually see him make anything. Or maybe it was the 19 year old who decided he wanted to be Magic Mike and spent the whole movie taking off his clothes, drinking, popping pills, having sex with random women and selling drugs. Oh, I know, it could have been about the smarmy over the hill male stripper who used the talents of his young dancers to expand his club and reputation, kind of pimp like actually.

Well, whatever. It pretty much failed at all of it. Don't get me wrong, there were some interesting parts and parts that made me laugh. Honestly Channing Tatum did have some fairly descent one liners but overall most of the speaking parts were delivered in a monotonous way. And there were way too many of them. I went to see stripping. There wasn't enough stripping.

So the best part of Show Guys was the dancing....

On a side note I'm really glad Matthew McConautool finally found the part of his lifetime. A movie that had a legitimate reason for him to take off his shirt. OMG I have to also share that there was an odd and slightly disturbing marble bust of Mr McTool in this movie. I strongly suspect that it is personal property of Mattie-boy and came out of his bathroom where he could lovingly gaze at an immortalized replica of his self appointed greatness while pinching one off as often as possible.

Did I mention the neked dancing was pretty hot?

You know what? I feel really bad for the other 4 men who really didn't get their fair share of the spotlight. They are just as hot (well except for the one guy they called Tarzan). Ok maybe I'm just upset because I didn't get enough of Joe Manganiello. 

 

Getting warmer......

 

Yep I'm feeling better already....

I hope he brought his hose.....

Was it as good for you as it was for me????

La-la-la-la I Can't Hear You!

Spent some quality time with my family tonight and regrettably it will forever be with me and I can't scrub it from my memory. I now have the first entry onto my "Shit My Dad Says....(that I wish he would never say again)" list. 

Didn't know I had one of those did you? I didn't really need one up until tonight. I just blew off the crap that usually comes out of my dads mouth as random ramblings from a man too settled into negativity and inappropriateness.

Tonight's enlightenment stems from it being my dad's birthday tomorrow. As a reminder of sorts he asked my sister and I tonight if we were going to pool our money together and get him a hooker.

What?!?!?!

Really Dad? We aren't that kind of family! It isn't like we a sit around drinking beer together, elbowing each other during the game when the cheerleaders start jumping around, saying "Look at the jugs on that one Pops! I could motorboat the shit out of those!".

For one thing I'm not a son. I'm not even a butchy lesbian that my dad introduces as Bill his almost son. Nope. I'm one of his girls that he helped produce 30 odd years ago that played with Barbies and loves the color pink. XX Chromosomes Dad....not XY. Oh, and my mom and him are MARRIED.

Anyway, after his hooker question my sister (who apparently shares some sort of weird inappropriate verbal spewage gene with him) (not like my brand of verbal spewage which is witty and often laugh inducing if I do say so myself) spouts off paraphrasing a Bloodhound Gang song. "It ain't Mom's job to fuck you on your birthday." Which actually doesn't even make any sense because if Mom was fucking him he wouldn't need a hooker now would he? AAAAACK!!!!!!

That was me after my sister started talking. It would have been me as soon as my dad started talking but I've been sick lately and my reflexes are slightly off. Usually I have cat like reflexes and stealth like a ninja. True story.

There are multiple words and phrases that should never associate with certain people in my life. I won't get into all of them but know that #1 is Sex + Dad and/or Mom. I am happy to live in lala-land where I just know the Stork lovingly left me in my mom and dad's living room and a year and a half later during a Gypsy Hazing event my sister was left on their doorstep. (What? You thought you were either born a Gypsy or not huh? Nope. It's more of a Fraternity + Sorority. A Fratority? They have some really kick ass parties but only if you can find them.)

So yeah. I never want to hear my dad mention sex. Ever.

Being a very visual person I end up with mental movies going on in my head. So if you mention the most disgusting thing you came across today in detail I will see it in my head. I don't want one of my dad doing.....I can't even finish that. I got a little urpy just typing it that far.

As far as the Bloodhound Gang goes, their songs really crack me up even the one my sister referenced but I would have let my dad's comment just die a quick and natural death whereas my sister doesn't have the ability to let shit lay where ever it falls.  

But anyway, for those of you out there who really aren't that familiar with the group (and no. knowing their song Bad Touch doesn't make you an expert.) here is a Youtube video. The song is called No Hard Feelings....

I said WHAT?!?!

I never did write anything about my 20th high school reunion this past summer and as I have shown the world (aka my 9 followers) that I am indeed a bad blog mommy and failed to nurture my blog with regular feedings of random crap that pops into my head I thought now is as good of time as any to say "Hey, the unpopular fat girl from high school had a great time at her reunion. Yo."

With that said the first night was so much fun I have forgotten most of it. The second, not as much but the night was still goin' great and then I said something crazy. But more on that later.

The first night we went to Bishops Bar which is co-owned by a classmate of mine and they were gracious enough to host it on Friday. Now normally I am not a bar kinda person. I out grew my bar phase sometime between the age of 21 and 22 (yeah, I was the partier let me tell you.) I just found that a bottle of Tequila and a fridge full of orange juice was so much cheaper and I could drink in my jammies if I wanted. Anyway, taking into consideration that I do not like to spend money at bars and add to that the addition of them all having Karaoke fun* it's a wonder I actually step foot in a bar once a year normally. Honestly though Bishops was my kind of bar. It is smallish and has that Karaoke thing but the bartenders were awesome and someone that I know owns it which kind of makes it a winning combo.

I admit that I drank too much that first night. I was really sticking to my "the more Tequila Sunrises I drink the healthier I'll be" theory** and I'm glad that I had set up a DD before going in there. I drank enough that I forgot that I hated high school and totally turned into a Chatty Cathy (Chatty Christina?) instigating conversations with people who either
1)didn't have a clue who I was
2)probably wouldn't have talked to me back in high school anyway
or
3)thought I was a lunatic

In case you are wondering my story kind of goes like this.....

I was a overweight shy girl in school. Didn't cause trouble. Never answered questions asked by the teacher even if I knew them. Squandered my knowledge by refusing to do homework but acing my tests making me a C student and being OK with that. Didn't do much of anything to bring attention to myself and lived my high school life invisible. Sounds positively dreadful right? At the time I was OK with it. As I have matured I have come to an understanding about myself and an acceptance that I have a lot to offer other people if I just stepped out of my comfort zone and let other people get to know me.

It still is a struggle taking that first step out of my comfort zone though let me tell you. It involves deep breathing, pep talks and the occasional shot of Tequila (or two).

So, back to my high school reunion. I decided that if I was going to have a good time I was going to have to get out there and make my fun. It wasn't going to come to me. It worked. I had a fabulous time that first night. It was fun seeing how much people had changed over 20 years.

The second night was fun also but there was a mix up with the venue (they wrote the wrong date on their calender) so they weren't expecting a bunch of near 40 year olds to swoop down upon their place. They worked it out though but I bet we don't have our 25th there.

It was this second night that during my happy go lucky time 'Crazy' showed up and out of my mouth popped this....

"Are you ignoring me? You ignored me all through high school are you really going to do it again?"

Oh yeah. I said it. I honestly don't know where it came from though. I have totally accepted who I was back in high school and who I am now. I hold a lot of the blame for my invisibility 2 decades ago and I have learned to go forward and be the person I want to be in life. So where the fuck did it come from? I would like to blame the alcohol but I hadn't had that much to drink. It seriously just came out of nowhere. I wasn't feeling malicious. I wasn't feeling annoyed, left out, pitiful, lonely, or any other self depreciating emotion that I can possibly come up with. It was if I were possessed by Jan Brady or someone equally whiny and self centered. What I do know is that once it came out of my mouth there was quite the awkward silence and the poor guy I happened to tag with it did the only thing he possibly could. He said "Oh Christina." and gave me a hug.

It was completely mortifying. The unfortunate guy on the receiving end of my 'Crazy' is a good guy. He wasn't a bully. I don't recall any negativity from him ever back in high school. It wasn't even like he was one of my secret crush guys*** who didn't even know I existed.

Fast forward 2 months later and I'm still thinking about my reunion and the great first night and my visit from 'Crazy' the second. I'm hoping that the alcohol involved during my possession was enough to strike this particular conversation from the minds of him and the two other people sitting there at the time. Of course I could be making more of this than anyone else but in my mind it was out of character for me and completely out of line.

Even with my little visit from psychoville I am pushing for a 25th and I'm looking forward to it. See all y'all in 2016! Muah!

*Karaoke Fun--aka Christina's journey into hell. I am one of the only people I know who hate Karaoke. I don't know if I am more terrified of a bunch of people who think they can sing or if I think I may get to drinking too much and think I can too. This is what I would look like doing Karaoke (note this is not me but other than me being probably 5 inches taller than this woman this could be me. Although I do wear longer shirts so my stomach tends to stay covered even when pelvic thrusting)


**Tequila Sunrises--The sunshine drink. Drink enough of these vitamin C enriched drinks and the common cold will be a thing of the past. Please note that although colds will visit in decreasing increments side effects may include sex with fuglies, random verbal diarrhea, and possible cirrhosis of the liver.


***secret crush guys---yes I had them. No I'm not sharing names. They will forever be my little secrets.

Scott Weiland You Wanker!

Yep, Fucking Scott Weiland totally fucked up my Friday.

It all started not quite 2 months ago when the casino I work at offered all the employees 4 free tickets to whatever concert we wanted (you could get all 4 to one concert or break it up however you wanted.) I opted to get 2 tickets to Debbie Gibson and Tiffany (yes I'm a super dork) and 2 tickets to STP. A little diverse in my music tastes, I am (and suddenly speaking Yoda too...weird.)

Anyway, I went to the Debbie/Tiffany concert (never did write about it but I suppose I could in the future.....no one said I had to blog about current events right?) and was totally looking forward to Stone Temple Pilots even though the tickets were for their rescheduled show.

WHAT? Rescheduled?

Yep...They were originally scheduled earlier this summer but postponed that date to tomorrow night only to cancel completely. The word on the net is that Weiland is suffering from vocal cord inflammation, according to his physician, but since he does have a habit of not completing tours one does have to wonder if he isn't back on the smack.

So, they canceled. Whatever. I think I'm more pissed that I wasted 2 of my free tickets than anything. My job is refunding the concert ticket costs to those who paid of course but I'm still left with 2 worthless pieces of bullshit and the knowledge that I knew back when I got them I should have chosen Bush instead. Fuck Me Running!

I did do some research to see if I could find out cause and whatnot and there is actually very little I could find about the cancellations other than a team of doctors all stood around and agreed with each other that Weiland could very well suffer from a vocal hemorrhage. At which point I instantly thought of diarhea of the mouth, which has absolutely nothing to do with a "vocal hemorrhage" other than bodily fluids would pour out of Weiland's mouth like a fountain (at least in my head) and I tend to talk about poop a lot. But honestly, see those quote marks? I didn't just insert them there to be facetious. The doctor actually said "vocal hemorrhage".

Now, typically the word hemorrhage is used to describe huge amounts of bleeding but it can also just be a vague term for any widespread or uncontrolled loss or diffusion. See? Verbal diarrhea. I can totally justify poop anytime, let me tell you.

 

Oh, here is a comment that I wish I had made from the Channel 3 website, Louisville KY article....
suppressio_veritas said..."Weiland can't finish a tour? Imagine that! At least he got a doctor's note this time..."

And the one I'm glad I didn't even think about making courtesy of  Facebook's  Sour Girl By Stone Temple Pilots profile (made after this picture).....

Random Girl Who Posts Sexual Innuendos On Public Facebook Pages Using Her Real Name And Thinks She Should Remain Anonymous: "i just cant even look at this pic without getting uncomfortable in my chair...love u guys..."

*I am such a bitch I left the her name in the quote on purpose. I figure if you make comments on public FB pages you should expect someone to see who you are right? Crap now I have to go back and try to remember what incriminating statements I may have made on public FB profiles and worry about potential stalkers. I wish.

Random Girl should get a better chair. One that is more comfortable, definitely. It's not that I think STP is a bunch of unattractive guys but since I'm all pissed at Weiland I'm just going to say that he is not bad looking if you like that anorexic-heroin addict type....

*Updated 10/9/12: Random Girl... Emailed me and *cough*kindly*cough-cough* asked that I remove her name from my blog. I am nothing, if not accommodating. So technically this particular paragraph makes no sense now but whatever.

What do you write when you have nothing to say?

I got nothin'. Seriously. Nothing worth mentioning but really don't want too long between posts. I am a terrible procrastinator and just know that if I let too many days go by without attempting to type up some crap here I'll end up saying something along the lines of "I'll post something tomorrow." which never happens.

So since I have nothing really worth mentioning I decided to dig through my Facebook photo albums and share.

So, here it is....Shit I think is funny...

Found this gem at the Quik Trip in Platte City, MO on my road trip to Texas this last June.

When 29 Cases just aren't enough....

 Once I posted the pic I suggested that my FB friends should make their own captions....I was the only one playing though....I couldn't decide if I was the only one who found this funny or if I was the only loser on Facebook that day.
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Sorry about the crappy phone pic....since taking this picture I have found I actually do have a zoom.

Lawn Furniture

 I took that while picking up my niece for lunch one day. I live less than a mile from this house and 2 months later I am pretty sure it was still there....matter of fact I think a recliner was added to the sitting arrangement.
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This is not a photo but something I found online. It was listed somewhere under the title "Choose Your Own Adventure Book Titles that didn't make the cut"....Maybe I was the only Geek that read these when I was a kid or maybe I'm the only one who randomly "crushes people's heads"

I'm Crushing Your Head! I'm Pinching Your Face!

Ok I think that's it for now. It's almost 5am...if I head to bed now I might be asleep by 6:30.

I don't have patience for the patient

My dad had knee replacement surgery last Tuesday and it's been interesting the last few days. I say interesting but really mean Oh My Fucking God Shoot Me Now! I've never had knee surgery so I don't know how much pain the patient can be in but I'm pretty sure my dad is milking it. His doctor told him that the average hospital stay is about 48 hours and some people actually leave after 36. Dad? 4 days.

When he was released on Saturday they administered his pain pills for the ride home (which was only 2 miles by the way.) During said ride apparently the meds weren't working all that well and during that 5 minute ride my dad suddenly bent over in his seat clutching his knee and said "Oh what a life I have...what a life."

Now normally I wouldn't have laughed at that but he totally said it like the Wicked Witch of the West said "What a World What a World" while she was melting. Needless to say neither my mom nor my dad were impressed with my sense of humor over the subject because I guess he wasn't really meaning to sound like a green melty bitch and when I tried to explain it...well, when you have to explain a joke it no longer is funny right? Thank goodness I was off to my high school reunion and missed his walk from the truck to the house because I had yet another inappropriate movie quote running through my head. This time from The Green Mile and I'm pretty sure neither of my parents would have appreciated me shouting "Walkin' the mile. Walkin' the mile." while my dad was trying to get into the house.

The days that have followed have been stressful for my mom because she has run up and down my dad's stairs so many times there are ruts in the wood. Dad calls the house phone from his cell phone to tell us he needs his pee mug dumped. You know what I mean right?

Pee Mug

 I asked him why he wasn't going to the bathroom that was located only about 7 feet from his bed.  He accused me of wanting him to be in pain. In his mind this is actually a viable argument. In mine it means I need to drink more Tequila.

Back to my mom. I would normally never expect her to handle all of his cell phone requests by her self except for one thing....Dad refused to wear clothes the past 4 days. I'm not talking about him refusing to wear a shirt or even pants...I'm talking about no clothes period except socks (his feet get cold I guess). I had to tell my mom that I couldn't stomach the thought of accidentally seeing my Dad's Dangler.

Today was special though. Dad was wearing underwear. Weird thing is he was wearing Tighty Whiteys. I didn't even know he owned a pair since we get him boxer briefs every year for Christmas and his birthday (yes were are those kind of gift givers.) Anyway, I ran up to ask him if there was anything I could help him with before I picked my nephew up from school this afternoon and noticed that he had his cell phone clipped to the waistband of his underwear. The mental picture is still just as funny as seeing it first hand by the way.

Me (while coming up the stairs): Dad are you dressed?
Dad: I'm decent. (ok that is a matter of opinion)
Me: (entering the room) Do you need anything before I go pick up.....
Me: Why is your cell phone attached to your underwear?
Dad: In case I fall while walking to the bathroom I can call someone for help.
At this point I'm blatantly staring at the half full pee mug
Me: Really?
Dad: (oblivious to my sarcastic question) Yes really. I'm a fall risk you know.
Me: Not if you don't get out of bed.
Dad: Go get your nephew!
Me: So Dad, yesterday when you were naked where did you clip your cell phone? 

At which point he turned the TV up to 'vibrate the floor it's so loud' and preceded to ignore me.

Just think, when he is all healed he is getting the other knee done! I'm so excited I could shit.

I Feel a Bit Like Kathy Bates in Misery

So Eric over at Opticynicism is having some issues with nature in his neck of the woods. Because of his recent problem with stalking skunks I was inspired to get a bit creative with MS Paint. Since I am the least creative person in the world I had to give in to my urge to create because I was afraid I'd never experience that particular urge again.

Not that I don't have other urges. I do. I often have the Pooping Urge but this blog is not about my pooping no matter how awesome it is. On a side note I love how my post about Eric has turned into a talk about shit. I don't think the two are really connected other than my inability to get from point A to point B without hitting points C, D, E and point 74 for good measure.

Anyhoodle, all 11 of my peeps reading this make sure you venture over to Eric's site. Money back guarantee that he will make you laugh (check is in the mail). In the mean time enjoy my Creative Paint Picture....

I call it "Opticynicism and Pepe:A Love Story"

I'm kind of hoping that my plug of his blog will overshadow the fact that I've brought stalking to a whole new level.

Mi Vida Loca

Life has been a little hectic lately. At least for me it has been. Not sure about you, but since it's all about me (or at least this blog is) I'm going to ignore those of you who may have said Amen Sister or some other you betcha acknowledgement. Hey don't be offended...like I said it's all about me.

So last Thursday evening we had some hellatious thunderstorms come through town. Short but fierce. The first wave of weather produced this...

oh and this....

Yes that is hail. Not very car friendly I must say....oh and I was not able to capture a picture of the wind but I heard it exceeded 70mph which is why this happened....

That would be a section of our tree measuring approximately 28 feet tall laying on our house. Unfortunately it didn't politely fall there but thought it would break it's long decent from the top of the tree by landing on our balcony first.

That would be the top of this tree section (which actually is about the size of a tree in itself but since our tree is gianormous this is just a tiny part of it) remember the bottom half is sitting on the ground 10 feet from the house.

Anyway, that was the first wave of  nasty. The second one cracked my windshield (fuck you Mother Nature). It's not like I don't have dents all over my little Nissan Sentra from the hail but after the first bit of crap I went out and apparently did some kind of victory end zone dance around my car thanking whomever would listen that my windows were all intact because several of my neighbors had already started tarping their cars because, well, they didn't have windows anymore. 

So my awesome 80s dance moves really pissed off the wrong deity and I've now been totally smited. Is that even a word? Who the fuck cares! My windshield looks like some inept jewel thief was practicing cutting circles in glass...My Glass! The glass I look through when trying to drive.

I would really like to be able to trade a vehicle in one of these days that isn't totally fucked up. Not that I have been planning on trading Lil' Blue or anything but I have to face facts. I'm a car maimer. Shut up spell checker I know that maimer isn't a word!

I have to wonder though if I have a huge car black cloud hanging over my head. Several (read this as meaning more than 10 years but don't mention I'm old please) years ago my very first purchase of a brand new off the showroom floor vehicle also met with an unfortunate Fuck You from Mother Nature. It was a Nissan Sentra also but don't read anything into that just yet.

Anyway, I was a proud owner of a brand new Nissan and as my 6 year loan was coming to an end (2 payments left) a downpour in mass proportions left some areas flooded and street lights not working. My poor Nissan and it's unsuspecting driver (me) ended up in 3 feet of standing water (this story is actually one for another blog post which I may do in future....oooo mysterious....not really.) Needless to say, irreparable. But never fear my insurance came through with a check for a whopping $1000. Which paid the last two payments and left me money to buy a Happy Meal.

Now what does a girl do with no transpo in a city that has the suckiest public transportation system ever? Scrape up some money to get a cheap car which unfortunately means I got a KIA. To make a long story just a little bit shorter the KIA ended up with a whole lot of hail damage too and when my insurance came around to do estimates they said "Yep that's a lot of damage. 'Bout $3400 I'd say. Here's 500 bucks." And then I was like "WHAT??? You said there is over 3 Thousand Dollars worth of damage!" And they said...."I know but that's all your car is worth...you bought a Fucking KIA."

Ok they really didn't say that but I'm pretty sure he thought it because when I pulled up I heard one of them yell "Hey guys. Get over here. You have got to see this car!" Followed by a lot of laughter. I'm 99.9%  pretty sure they weren't talking about the amount of hail damage.

I just hope that the insurance adjuster doesn't do that with Lil' Blue. But I'm down to my last 6 payments on a 6 year loan so I'm not holding my breath.

Well, I didn't really talk much about what else made my life a little hectic lately but it's almost 5am and I have to work in a few hours so I'm going to try to out wit insomnia by pretending to be sleepy and going to bed now. Pretty sure this won't work but maybe the Benadryl will.

Oh and before I leave you all, just know that this weekend I also attended my 20th high school reunion and my dad came home from the hospital after having knee replacement surgery. High School reunion super fun....dad's recovery not so much. One involved too much Tequila. The other not enough.

It's not what you think....

I spend a lot of time on Facebook. Whew...thought that would be hard to admit but it wasn't too bad. Admitting that I spend most of that time farming my cafe and cooking my crops and some other random shit on the game apps is even harder. Ok not really. I should probably be ashamed at the amount of time I spend an those stupid apps but surprisingly I don't. Anyway, this post isn't really about the amount of time I spend killing zombies and creating monsters in my yard. It's about the ridiculous ads that are on the right side of the Facebook page when you play one of the games.

See that picture? It was for an ad that popped up along the side of my Frontierville screen one day. I thought it was for a tittie bar. I got nothing against a titties. I have a pair. I'll occasionally look at someone else's titties and rate them on a scale from 1 to 10. What? Like you don't do that....don'tjudgeme.

Anyway, it wasn't an ad for a 'Gentleman's Club' it was an ad for Women's Higher Education. Seriously. The caption read "Women can earn their BS".

Now, briefly I thought maybe BS meant Bull Shit. Everyone knows when it comes to word games if you can insert a swear word into an acronym and it still makes sense you always get more points than if you don't. Obviously 'Women can earn their Bull Shit' doesn't make sense so I ended up going with Bachelor of Science. Definitely not worth as much but probably more accurate.

What kind of classes would a woman have to take to get her BS from a school that has a naked woman in a martini glass as their advertisement? Slap and Tickle 101? The Advanced History of Jagger Bombs? Someday I hope to earn my BS in picking up dollar bills with my butt.

I Hate Lois Lane

Ok maybe that is a bit harsh but she certainly garners at least a handful of dislike and a frowny face. How can she swear to be in love with a man and not recognize him with glasses? Granted, no one in Metropolis connected Clark Kent with Superman but that's not the point. It does make you wonder if the entire city was full of SPEDs. They probably wouldn't see Joe Blow walking down the street in cammies either...you know because he is camouflaged...right? HAHAHAHA...whatever.

Perhaps it's the hair part that throws everyone off...

You do know I am talking about the original 1978 Superman right? Not an unoriginal remake and certainly not a piece of shit sequel with Richard Prior or Super Powerful Nuclear Men .

No Nuclear Man in this one!

Without taking this towards middle aged single living bitterness I would just like to point out that for generations men have fallen for cute idiots. Heck, if The Man of Steel can do it how much hope does the average schmuck really have?

Of course the average everyday schmuck doesn't look like this....

So, is it really Lois Lane's fault that Kal-El put her on a super high pedestal? I'm going to say yes. I am pretty sure behind the scenes she was giving him toe curling hummers. Can't prove it of course but she didn't look as if she really cooked so if she couldn't win him through his stomach with some down home cookin' she had to use the other tried and true way. Everyone knows that the way to a man's heart is through his balls.

Sigh, if only a man would stop the world and turn back time for me....is that edging towards bitterness? It probably is. I personally wouldn't expect a man to save me by messing with the natural order of time and space or give up his über cool powers to be with me either. What I want is a normal guy (who looks like Superman)(just kidding)(not really) who likes little dogs who hate all persons but me, who doesn't mind if our place has more dust bunnies than air molecules, who doesn't care if I squeeze the toothpaste from the middle, who knows my food can't touch each other on my plate, who will let me drive everywhere because I'm too controlling to be a passenger, who thinks my anal OCD-type ways are cute, who knows airplanes are fast but agrees with my 'getting there is half the fun' theory and jumps into the passenger seat for hours on end to get to our vacation destination, who just says "you're adorable" when I bring another book home even though he is 99.9% sure I already own it, who hands me the remote control and says "Whatever you want to watch is fine with me.", and agrees that Hair Bands were unjustly snuffed out by the Evil Grunge Movement way before their time. Is that too much to ask?

Beware of Boring Days (and boring blog posts)

Being determined to have at least two posts during the month of July I sat at my desk and made a list of interesting things that happened to me today so I could share with my bloggie buddies.

1. 8am--routine morning wake up call from Ryan Reynolds...Scarlett really hated these but now she's it's not a problem.
2. Noon--routine morning wake up call from Adam Levine....This is when I actually wake up but I just can't break Ryan's heart like that.
3. Tumble outta bed and stumble to the kitchen pour myself a cup of ambition yawnin stretchin try to come to life (as if you don't sing a little Dolly Parton when you get out of bed!)
4. 12:15pm step outside to make sure that sometime during the night Operation Repo didn't utilize my little blue Nissan for practice.
5. 12:16pm heart to heart with the new dog next door that it is perfectly acceptable for me to stand on my front porch in my underwear and barking like a fool is overreacting just a bit.
6. At 2pm I realized that I would either have to dress for the day or go back to bed...day off! of course I went back to bed....
7. 2:01 realized that one of the dogs had vomited in 4 different places on my bed. I am assuming that it was only one dog but honestly vomiting begets vomiting and there are 4 dogs. Of course it might be a bit different with dogs....humans rarely eat their puke so there are probably fewer parallels than I originally thought.
8. I only wish they would have eaten their puke.
9. So dressed for the day it was....and I suddenly had bedding to do.
10. Why does the last 5 minutes of the wash cycle take 20?
11. Off to the library where all the cool kids hang out because Reading is FUNdamental!
12. Spelled Fundamental wrong and had to look it up online....apparently there is no definition for fundemental but it is used in a sentence in the Urban Dictionary (copy and pasted) *ahem* "The fundemental difference between being a biker and owning a motorbike is that the first has some stories to tell. The second has a surogate penis." after which I had to click the penis link "The tool used to wean and convert lesbians and virgins into useful, productive members of society."
13. That Urban Dictionary! What a hoot!
14. Meanwhile, back at the library....I checked out 27 books. Not because I'll read them all in the 3 weeks I'm allowed to have them but just because I could .
15. Saw a man walking along the street that was wearing pink camouflage and a pink cowboy hat. Didn't realize the Army got new uniforms. He was really easy to spot outside but had he been at Victoria's Secret I'd never have seen him.

So at this point I realized that half this stuff was actually made up and the other half was boring as hell so that's where I gave up. I have no problems admitting I'm a quitter. My day just totally sucked the life out of Fun. And it's what I do everyday! Well, minus the dog puke and I only go to the library once a week...I'm not, like, obsessed or anything.

So, since that was a bust I'll give you the adventures of Cousin T and Me (part 1).

Years ago I might have had a little problem with just going along with whatever was suggested, if that suggestion was
A) not going to cause my death by accident (by parental punishment was another story)
B) suggested by a person close to me (I was really well educated on Stranger Danger) or
C) was not suggested by my younger sister (I was the leader and she was the follower in that relationship....she still complains that I made her eat a mud pie when she was 3.)

T and I must have been in middle school at the time and T, who was living at our Grandmother's, came up with this "crafting project" we could do. Being the only ones at Grandma's that day and being totally bored of course I went a long with it. The Crafting Project was to take out all the cake decorations from Grandma's pantry (there were something like 75 of them) and put them all on the table. Then T went and got two small bowls and put one in front of each of us.
"Now what?" I asked.
"We mix them! Grandma and I do this all the time." (she totally swears now that she never said that but whatever.)
"Are we making a cake?"
"Nope."
"Are we making cupcakes?"
"Nuh-uh"
"Okaaaaaay. So then what do you and Grandma do with the mixture when you are done mixing it?"
"We eat it silly!"

Now for some reason this made perfect sense to me. WTF? Looking back I just can't see Grandma spooning that shit into her mouth saying Yum Yum. Was I really that gullible? Yep.

I started with the little chocolate sprinkles that look a little a lot like mouse turds. I followed that up with the small silver balls then the large ones. Red and Green little snowflakey decorations were next. And then the multi-colored mouse turd sprinkles. A good dose of green colored sugar, then the red and my masterpiece was finished.

I utilized the spoon T had provided and have to say that as awesome as it looked it didn't taste that great. In case you've never mixed a bowl of these kind of cake decorations and shoveled them into your mouth I'm here to tell you they don't really have much of a flavor. However, the brown mouse turd sprinkles do have a slight chocolate taste but not like a Hershey's bar chocolate more like a Palmer easter egg chocolate in a little bitty jimmie (did you know that's what those turds are really called....I didn't I had to look it up.)

So, I gave up the dream and put the lid on my bowl and stuck my mixture in the pantry and walked the 3 blocks home to get ready for the rockin' Jr High dance that was going on that night (totally looked forward to singing naughty words to Mony Mony!)

A couple hours later, you guessed it, my mom got a phone call from my Grandmother asking why in the world I would do something like that. My "But T made me" excuse didn't hold water with my mom. Apparently T wasn't smart either because she didn't try to flush the evidence of her involvement knowing without a doubt Grandma was going to be mad and just leave me as the fall guy. Nope she was sitting at the table eating the evidence when Grandma came in.

We never did get to go to that dance. We spent the night sorting cake decorations into their proper containers. The colored sugar was a total loss though but it was used heavily every Christmas for 5 years. Grandma didn't believe in throwing anything out.

I get lost in your eyes And I feel my spirits rise

Those are Debbie Gibson lyrics by the way. 150 points to the people who knew that.

I was talking to BooBooKitty the other night and both of us agreed that should someone from work hand us two tickets to see Debbie Gibson and Tiffany (they will be performing together mid-august at our casino) we would actually go. The chances of them giving out tickets this year is slim to none. Last year they gave tickets to us employees to certain shows. All we had to do was wait in line for 2 hours to get them. How awesome is that? Really not that much since all the great shit was not available. They gave us tickets to the shows that sold the least amount of tickets hoping to boost their revenue by beer they assume us off duty employees would purchase.

Anyway, back to the D-bop and Tiffster sorta, it got me thinking about my music identity crisis as a teenager. Early on (pre-high school) I pretty much listened to whatever my mom liked. Sad but true. Not that she was totally controlling or anything but somewhere along the line she convinced me that Yes, if I listen to that pop music at bedtime I will never fall asleep and that easy listening is the way to go. Can you say Brainwashing at it's Best?

I have to admit the sounds of Roger Whittaker's The Last Farewell did indeed put me to sleep.

and for that matter Rock Me Amadeus made me wanna sing along to words I didn't understand but faked it very convincingly (not so much.)


You can see where this is going right? I liked Rock Me Amadeus for the love of Pete! What does this have to do with the two pop princesses? Well, I liked them too. Mostly I liked Debbie better because she actually wrote her own songs and Tiffany just hung out at malls a lot.

I wasn't so obsessed with Debbie that I hung posters on my bedroom walls of her or anything...that space was taken up by The New Kids on The Block...but I did own this....

Oh YEAH! Don't be hatin'. Actually I think I still have my bottle sitting in a box somewhere in the attic. I bet it's still as terrific as it was 20 years ago. What with "a mildly sweet but innocent trial of the flirty power of perfumes" how could it not?

So absolutely I'm thinking about that concert. I probably wouldn't be the only 38 year old there singing along to Shake Your Love.


I still maintain that Debbie ( I just can't bring myself to call her Deborah!) is very talented. She was the youngest person to ever write, perform and produce a song that went to #1 (Foolish Beat just in case you wanted to know.) She really hasn't had a lot of success that can be heard on the radio in the last decade but she has been making a name for herself in theater playing parts like Belle from Beauty and the Beast and Eponine in Les Miserables. I am truly mortified that she was in the movie Mega Shark versus Giant Octopus though....Really D? What doesn't surprise me is that Lorenzo Lamas was her co-star.

So, I guess I still adore Debbie Gibson.

Tiffany on the other hand....She certainly grew a set of knockers and wasn't shy about using them.....

I've been SPAMMED

Ok, it happens. Happens a lot actually but thought this one was actually funny. I have had AOL for years and am not new to receiving emails saying they are contacting me from AOL to assist with any email issues I may have....the kicker of course is that they aren't letters from AOL but hackers/spammers/asshats who have nothing better to do than send out thousands of emails to people in hopes someone will be dumb enough to fall for the shit.

Anyway, I was deleting my 2000 some emails (mostly junk) and found this little gem.....8 times. So here are a couple screen shots with some minor additions courtesy of me.....

So, I was a bad AOL Spammer victim and didn't reply with any of the info they needed from me. I should be very ashamed. Wonder if they will send me a horribly worded/edited email berating me for my inconsideration.

Oh yeah, the email listed after this one said that I could show off my wine collection with the perfect rack.

My mental picture was that of a woman with red wine stains running down the front of her shirt. Is that wrong?

Pizza or Asian Hookers

For the last year my friend, BooBooKitty, and I have been eye-spying this "Coming Soon" pizza joint in our smallish city. For reals. It has taken the owners the better part of a year to remodel and open up.

 Being night owls BooBooKitty and I often would drive past to see if they were open or not and we always saw activity inside. At 4am. Seriously, they were "remodeling" at 4am. Allegedly.

It was one of those 4am drive-bys when BooBooKitty asked exactly how long does it takes someone to turn a run down pet store into a pizza place because he didn't think they were really in the pizza business.

This should be disturbing on several levels. Truth be told I was only concerned that all reptilian bodies were long gone before any form of tomato product was brought in. Thinking ahead I was terrified of ordering a pizza in the future and having snake pieces on it.

Reptile issues aside we figured they should have had it completed at least 6 months ago and they must be up to something nefarious. At which time we put our heads together and came up with a short list of things they must be doing instead of fixing up the joint so they could make BooBooKitty a fucking pizza. BooBooKitty is all about the pizza and gets a little irritable when unable to get his fix.

Our list was really short. It actually only had one thing on it because we really aren't creative people and really  are naive when it comes to nefariousness. So we decided that the "Coming Soon" pizza joint was just a front for Asian Hookers.

When that bright idea came to us we no longer had to think of other options. We totally knew it was Asian Hookers and just went with it.

So BooBooKitty said "Why don't you ask your mom about it? She still works across the street right?"

And I'm all like, "Shut the fuck up! My mom's not a hooker!"

At which BooBooKitty rolled his eyes and asked if I suffered a brain injury in my youth.

We did end up asking my mom if she noticed an Asian Hookers sneaking out the back door over there which she never answered. She just gave me that mom look that says "You are on my last nerve."

I see that a lot.

So, for months we drove past looking for the place to be either open or see some guy stumble out the door with a Happy Endings look on his face but we never did (those Asian Hookers are sly let me tell you). What we did see though on a couple of occasions was someone carrying a baby into the supposed pizzeria (at 4am). Which seems like a Hooker thing to do Right? But not necessarily a terrible thing, after all, spending time with your children is a good thing. Bringing your baby to Hook might just be a bonding experience for them.

So last night we went for the first time to the now open pizza place. It was rather anti-climactic. I didn't see even one Asian in the entire place. When we asked where they kept them they acted like they had no clue what we were talking about. I suspect we just didn't know the right Asian Hooker Code Word.

On the upside the pizza was good.

Online Dating Tip #1

Having been single now for a little more than a few years I thought maybe I would try some online dating. What I am actually trying is not to laugh at some of the things I see on some of the sites. This is Before any actual dating by the way.

I thought maybe I should document some of my findings. Kind of a What The Hell Were You Thinking? online dating tips.

First of all I have to say that I have yet to jump into the Online Dating Pool completely. I am more toe dunking. Just testing the waters so to speak. So, I have yet to actually go on a date. I think my problem is the weirdness I keep coming across when checking my messages and looking at profiles.

Ok, so let's get going on this.....

#1 Your Profile Picture.
Yes it is important to have one. Yes we are a superficial society and we judge by looks. It isn't right. We've been taught to judge what's on the inside. Frankly all that is on the inside is pus and blood so we go with what we can see first. It's the human way to do things. Especially when viewing Online Dating Profiles. Yes we all want to find that sensitive HeMan who will spout poetry to you and kill the spiders that invade your home but he better have a decent Profile Picture because that is what you are going to look at first before you read what the profile says.

This is an example of what not to have as your profile picture. I'm going out on a limb here but for the most part women are not looking for a hairy gun toting, guitar hero playing mostly naked man.  For that matter I don't know of any gay men who would be willing to wax this before tappin' it either.

 Now this is a hot profile picture. But don't fall for this one either people. This man does not exist on any online dating site. This is Hugh Jackman. If a man's profile picture looks like this, trust me, he probably has webbed toes and a third nipple.

Another Profile Don't. Capturing yourself sitting next to a pile of laundry wearing stained sweat pants and a dress shirt is also not a way to meet quality people.

Ok, well that was fun for me. Hope it was for you too. Next time I'm going to discuss the ever important profile. Mostly I am just going to list some shit I found on people's profiles and laugh at it. Should be a good time.

Do I take Risks? You know it baby!

Over at Studio Thirty+ the writing prompt of the week is Risk. I wasn't sure if I would participate or not. I mean I haven't participated so far even though I technically have been a member since the beginning of the year. Besides, I never take any kind of risks. Seriously. At least that is what I thought. I had to do a little brain storming about my risks, or lack there of, and realized I'm lucky to be alive. For reals. I should have bit the big one ages ago.

So for your reading enjoyment I bring you.....

Christina Vs. The Time Clock

Oh, sure. You may scoff. Time Clock Schmime Clock. What kind of risky behavior is that? Let me tell you. I play chicken with the time clock every single work day.

My day pretty much starts out the same everysingleday. I set my first alarm for 2 hours before I need to get up because I have somehow convinced myself that if I set it 2 hours before and wake up knowing I will have another two hours of sleep my brain and body will be eternally grateful for the psych out and reap the benefits of an additional 120 minutes of zzzzzzzs.

My second alarm goes off at noon. WTF? Noon? Don'tjudgeme I work nights and have insomnia. Are those violins I hear playing in the background? Whatever.

Anyway, my second alarm goes off at noon which I turn off and then it starts getting interesting and surprisingly enough mirrors the 5 stages of grief.

As I was saying, at noon, my second alarm goes off and I'm all "WTF? Is it really that time again? It can't be. I just went to bed." That's right y'all DENIAL.

Next comes Anger! "OHFORFUCKSAKES! Just another half a fucking hour! That's all I need. Fucking Black Eyed Peas and their I Just Can't Get Enough waking me the fuck up!" Yes, that's right ladies and well, ladies since I don't have any men following my little ol' blog, I swear a whole lot when I wake up.

So then I'm like, "Just another 15 minutes and I'll be good to go." which actually gets said 2 additional times. That's right, Fergie and the rest of the gang gets cussed out at noon, 12:15 and then again at 12:30. Don't worry about, they have thick skin and can take it. So if you aren't keeping track this is the Bargaining stage.

STAGES 4 AND 5: Depression and Resignation....At 12:45 I may or may not start crying. OK, mostly I do whine a lot and throw in a few tears in case someone is watching. I'm also resigned to the fact that I have to get up and get ready for work. I do not like it and think everyday that I should start my day off with a shot of Tequila with a Vodka chaser but I don't (not before I brush my teeth for sure....morning breath really ruins a good alcohol wake up call.)

So far I haven't outline much in the Risk department. I have outlined that I curse a lot, have questionable taste in music and could possibly be a future alcoholic, but wait there's more.....

Once I get out of bed I have 40 minutes to....

• Use the restroom (nothing like that first pee of the day)
• Make my lunch to take to work
• Iron my clothes (just because I'm lazy doesn't mean I have to be wrinkled)
• Shower
• Dress (in wrinkleless clothes)
• Make myself up the best I can (somedays I really could use some Bondo but just don't have time to sand it properly so I work with what I have)

Still not risky huh?

Next I tend to have 18 or 19 minutes to drive from my house to work and punch in. This is where the risk comes in. I'm usually a good driver. I never complain about the way I drive anyway so I must be better than average. For real. I complain about everything.

But anyway, something happens to me when I get behind the wheel when I am fixated on something. Especially when that something is beating the time clock. I honk obnoxiously at little children. I scream at old people with walkers. I tailgate anyone who happens to be in front of me. I flip off the short bus for no apparent reason as I pass them. It isn't pretty. I should be ashamed. I'm not though. Because this method makes me feel better about having to get the fuck out of bed and toe the line for the Man! Power to the People!

Oh so where was I? Oh yes. The drive to work. It can be scary and I would recommend that if you are in the area between 1:45pm and 2pm you just stay off the roads. But if you don't and happen to hear someone calling you an AssHat just ignore the crazy woman. She won't hurt you.....much.

Just so you know I drive to work going 75mph in a 55. It's totally true that if I go that fast on that stretch of highway which happens to only be 3 miles long I will get to work several minutes faster. Ok not really because mathematically speaking if you go 55 it takes approx. 3.3 minutes but if you go 75 it takes about 2.4 minutes which means I don't actually shave off even a minute by risking life, limb and moving violations but whatever, mind over matter people!

Next is finding a parking spot. The casino that I work at employs maybe 800 people. At 2pm I swear that Every. Single. Employee. Is. There. Taking up every single fucking parking spot worth anything. The only ones left are the 6 handicapped spaces and the one compact car spot that has nesting pigeons, um nesting over it. What's a girl to do? Park in the handicapped? Fuck no! That pisses me the fuck off (along with women who use the handicapped stall in public restrooms because they think their fat asses need breathing room. From one fat ass to another...leave that stall for those who really need it! Sorry went on a little tangent.)

So, I risk the paint of my little blue Nissan, run into the building, down 3 flights of stairs, up the long long long employee hallway only to see this....