Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Fluckin' Dags

The past two days have been filled with dogs.  So many dumb dogs.  I like dogs usually, but this was too much...I had to visit my family for two days. So, I had to bring MY dog with. My dog is a freeky little Chinese Crested, which means that he is basically hairless.  He is clean. He is weird looking as shit and he is my homeboy.

My family, on the other hand, has two dogs; a little Yorkshire Terrier, and a gigantic Black Russian Terrier puppy.  IDK if you care about dog breeds, but the Black Russian Terrier puppy, Gustav, is a massive beast of a dumb-ass puppy. I let him in from outside, and he instantly takes a shiz...INSIDE! WTF.  So, that happened like three times, and this dog eats like 5 cans of food a day, so, you can imagine.  Plus he barks constantly.  I was annoyed by this idiot the whole time. So, there was that.

Then, the poor little Yorkshire Terrier is so upset by all the commotion over the past couple days, that she barfs then BM's in her crate (which is unusual for her but WHATEVER), guess who's the only one around? Yeahhhhhhh.

Gustav tried to eat my dog (and scratched him), and jumped on me and woke me up at 6.45 am (a full three hours after I fell asleep) and my foot got peed on at some point during these adventures. Fucking awesome.

Finally I get back to my apartment with my little champion, "Kramer, you're the best dog ever!  You were so good!" I say to him as he quietly lays on my lap...and proceeds to barf all over me...  

Saturday, May 26, 2012

What's more gay?

I went out to a bar last night with my bff.  Somehow I got stuck sitting in the corner and was able to eavesdrop on the table next to me.  There were a couple of bro-ey guys and a couple of girls with their tater-tots hanging out.  The guys, and I can't even make this shit up, were loudly asking, "What's more gay? If your balls touch, or if your shafts touch?"

I stopped talking in the middle of my conversation and just turned and looked at this table for like 10 seconds.  I had to shut my trap because I wanted to interject, "The gayest thing is that you're asking questions like that."

Oh, Humanity...

Saturday, March 17, 2012

walking to the liquor store

It was such a beautiful day in Chicago today, that I felt the need to wear shorts. Oh shorts, what a glorious thing. But I only own, like, one pair. I found them, put them on, and proceeded to walk outside...Now, it's been about six months since I wore them, and damn gurl, I don't mean to brag, but I've lost some serious weight...I put my phone in my back pocket when I walked outside and almost had a mooning incident...My neighborhood would have loved that...But my point is that I need new clothes...

My OTHER point is that while walking to the liquor store (cuz I'm a classy bitch) I was reminded of the last time I bought vodka and ice. And that was during my horrendous break up with my last boyfriend. When he told me on our walk that he didn't want to be with me anymore, I stopped in the 7-Eleven to buy ice, and he had asked me, "What are you buying here?" and I said, "Ice." And he asked me why and I told him, "You know that I don't fuck around with homemade ice."

And that's where I like to remember my last relationship ending. Nothing after that. Just me saying, "You know I don't fuck around with homemade ice."

Anyway. Liquor store. Yeeeeeaaaahhhhh.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

The Story of Bitchturd B. Hayes

I called my sister to talk recently and a rare gem was born.

The following is the story of Bitchturd B. Hayes...

My sister's son, (who's in fourth grade) came home from school talking about the president he learned about that day. So, she asked him what the president's name was, "BitchURD Hayes," he responds. She tells him that it must be Richard Hayes. He tells her, "NO MOM it's BITCHARD, with a B!!!" She says, "noooo..." and he says "YEESSSSSS!!!" She tells him, "I'll bet you $5 that it isn't Bitchard." He makes the bet.

I stop her at this point of her story because to me, both of them sound wrong, so being the fucker I am, I do a google. Yeah, it's Rutherford B. Hayes..."Continue," I tell her...

She continues...She tells him that he MUST be wrong for TWO reasons. The first reason, (her words), "No parent in their right mind would EVER EVER, name their kid something that sounds like "bitch-TURD" and, AND, the second reason, I at no point in my life, NO POINT, remember laughing at that name in school or making fun of it, so it can't POSSIBLY be the name of a president of the United States."

Yes, these are her reasons of why 'Bitchard' is not the right my nine year-old nephew.

Fuck. I was pissing in my pants at the hilarity of the story, and how sincere she was in telling it.

Two days later my sister calls me. She informs me that Rutherford B. Hayes had someone in his family named "Birchard" but that she doesn't feel like she owes my nephew the $5. Laughing, I tell her to pay up.

Boom. Shit is fucking ridiculous. And that's how Bitchturd was born.

Monday, January 16, 2012

kids say the darndest things

My interaction with a customers kid today:

Me: Hey little guy. Are you having fun today?

Kid: ...yeah...

Me: Cool. Are you going to do anything fun when you get home?

Kid: YEAH! I'm gonna take off ALL my clothes when I get home!!!


Thursday, January 5, 2012

I faint at the sight of blood

You ever hear women who say, "I faint at the sight of blood"? It drives me fucking crazy. I mean, women menstruate, right? Therefore if they faint at the sight of blood, they're going to be constantly passing out every time they change a tampon. I like to imagine them going to the bathroom, seeing blood, passing out, and getting back up, seeing blood, passing out again, over and over and over, on an endless loop. It's fucking ridiculous.

Saturday, December 31, 2011

cool. remember that one time i fucked up my face?

A little over a year ago I took out a piercing I had because I chipped my tooth on it eating a chicken chili verde burrito on my birthday (thanks for nothing BRANDON). Tonight, I put the piercing back in. Why? Because drinking by yourself rules and it seemed like a good idea...This is one of many things I'll regret in the morning lately, but who cares? Hurts like a bitch too. Happy fucking new year. "Cool," I said, crying...

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Sometimes I get afeared

I don't like to walk down the street, alone at night, in the Biiiiiiig Ciiiiiiiity. Because if I was a rapist and saw me walking down the street, well, I'd probably rape me. Same with the murderings. Easy target, you know? Sometimes I'm scared to be me.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

My next tattoo

I want to get a tattoo on my upper chest that says "not welcome". That way when people start bugging me or pissing me off, I can just pull down the collar of my shirt a little and say, "You see this?! It means NOT WELCOME!"

Visually, it would be stunning.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Advice from my mom:

Me: I'm going to hangout with one of my friends probably.

Mom: Is it a guy?

Me: Yeah.

Mom: He better not be making a booty-call.

Me: WHAT? No, Mom, he is not making a booty-call.

Mom: Good. Because that's not allowed. You can't have guys making booty-calls on you.

Me: OHMYGOD. Mom. What if I make a booty-call? Is that allowed?

Mom: Yeah. That's fine. You can make the booty-calls. You should hang a cow over your bed too.

Me: What are you talking about 'hang a cow over my bed'?

Mom: It will remind them that the milk isn't for free.

Monday, November 7, 2011

The Infamous Sandwich Texts

I only did one cool thing over the course of my recent break-up. In a moment of weakness I sent a text that I instantly regretted, which spurred The Infamous Sandwich Texts. This is a transcription of the only thing I did during that whole pile of shit that's actually worth talking about. YOU'RE FINALLY WELCOME. (and I was actually starving. so.)

Completely one-sided and all me:

Come over. I miss you.

Eh. Never mind. Moment of weakness. I have a sandwich here that promised me that it wouldn't lie to me and try to ruin my life.

But seriously. I could use a sandwich.

No whole grain mustard tho cuz that shits for yuppies.

I don't want to be your friend. I'm just trying to get a sandwich out of you.

I have to admit to you that throughout this relationship I've been using you for sandwiches and ice cream. I'm a fucking asshole.

But seriously. Where the fuck is my sandwich?

I will settle for pizza, but I won't be happy.

You could compromise with a pizza sandwich. If there's a meatball on there tho, you're a dead man.

And don't bother with chips. That shits for losers.

Unless we are talking British 'chips'. In which case--bring it.

A salami sandwich would be fine. No Swiss tho. Cuz it smells like feet and mice made the holes.

Sometimes you don't appreciate the sandwich you ate at 11:30 and you need another one. WITHOUT MEATBALLS plz.

I'm starting to feel like I should've started this whole thing off with: I'm going to kill myself if I don't get a sandwich. I would have gotten better results.

*some people* think they don't owe anyone an early morning sandwich. And that's a Sad Fucking Fact in this country.

Even a homemade sandwich would be fine it it was poison free. I don't know what your problem is.

You know what kind of sandwiches I like. I don't know what's so hard about this.

I'm really surprised that you're such a sandwich republican. It's a fucking weird side to take if you ask me.

I'm just saying that if you happened to come across a sandwich, I could use one. I remembered you to be a lot more giving when it comes to sandwiches.
I want to make a sandwich Hitler joke but I don't want to get in trouble.

I wouldn't beg you for a sandwich. But I would say, 'give me a sandwich'. Just so we're clear here.

Just a warning: sandwich cookies are not actual sandwiches. I'm not fucking around here.

I don't know when you started being all anti-sandwich. I warn you that you WILL lose friends over it. But no one ever listens to me.

Saturday, October 22, 2011

Adventure girl makes a mess

I've been off the charts with shenanigans lately. And since I'm a storyteller, I'll divulge...

A friend of mine invited me to go see a double feature and the movies seemed swank, so I was like, 'Hell yeah! I'll bring the wine!' My friend brought the food, and we proceeded to drink one bottle during the first movie...We sneaked, we laughed, we drank, it was good.

The second movie started and I was all excited, because it was the main movie that I wanted to see. The opening credits rolled, I pulled the second bottle of wine out of my bag, fun size twix in my mouth, things couldn't be better...Until, the full, unopened bottle of red wine slowly slipped from my fingers and completely shattered on the floor of the movie theater...

I lean over to my friend, "We have to fucking go. Now. Now. We have to go. Let's go. We need to get the fuck out of here." My friend asks, "...was that the empty bottle...?" Me, "No. Can't you smell it? Shit. Let's. Go."

As the 30 other people in the theater begin to ascertain which idiot broke glass during the movie, we make a plan to bolt in ten minutes. During that time frame, I pull a $5 bill out of my bag and write "sorry" on it about 10 times, then place it on top of the broken wine bottle. It's called 'doing the wrong thing the right way'. I only wish I could have dropped a $20...

I go to the bathroom. A few minutes later my friend meets me in the lobby. Drunk, I use my best straight face as I loudly fake a phone call in the silent lobby, "WHAT?! When? Is it serious? The HOSPITAL? No, I'm at the theater, I'm leaving right now. Which hospital? I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Bye." We walk out with serious, studious expressions on our faces...
They'll never suspect me...

It's called 'saving face'. Also, these kinds of things are just becoming a normal weeknight for me...

Lesson, not learned.

Saturday, October 8, 2011

Poor decision making...

Recently I've developed the habit of going out and getting all crazy on my 'Fridays'. This may involve bars, karaoke, house parties, having people over or staying out all night. I usually just wait to see what the night brings...I am burning the candle at both ends. And what a delightful light it brings...But in the midst of this chaos, I am also dutifully seeing my therapist, so that I stay on track with my real-life shit. Which brings me to my story...

I make my therapist appointments for my day off...And on my day off, I usually seem to be recovering from severe partying. So, I biked to my therapists office with a hangover to beat all. Why did I bike there? I have no fucking idea. I like to think I was still drunk at 4pm. Maybe...So, I have my water, and I tell her, "Just so you know, I don't feel well. Too much last night, toooooo muuuuccchhh." I blabber on for about 20 minutes and suddenly I'm like, 'shit. imma barf in here.' I stand up, freaking out, and I'm like, "Where's the bathroom?" She tells me and I'm running down the hall hiccup-barfing...I make it to the bathroom without much incident and proceed to violate the toilet...After a few minutes in the bathroom I try to make myself look 'presentable' which only involves me staring at my reflection in the mirror, then undoing my hair to cover the water/barf? splatter on my shirt. You better believe that I'm a classy fucking lady, potential barf splatters don't fly in my book.

So, how did I preserve my upstanding reputation? With a joke of course. I sauntered right back into that room and I was like " WOW! I feel SO much BETTER!" I'm okay with it. I'm paying her not to judge me.

(But seriously, lesson learned).

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Life goals and shit

I'm not very good with the follow through of life goals. Except one, that I've been following through with for most of my life. That life goal is to never get stung by a bee again. I realized today that the last time I got stung by a bee, I was probably in fifth grade, and I was like 'never again assholes', or probably more like 'never again stupid jerks'. (I didn't develop a foul mouth until about 4 years later). But I've actively been on the watch for bees ever since. I heard that bees are dying out. That doesn't make me feel that bad because I think bees are little monsters. I even had a giant bee on my foot this summer, which made me not go outside for about 3 weeks, but it didn't sting me. So. I fucking win.

I'm going to bee really pissed if I get stung now that I've written this though. I hate jinxing myself, but as a warning to the world, bees get all fucking crazy in the fall cuz they know that they're going to die after the frost. So, everyone beeware.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

I hate the bus

I hate the bus so much. So, so much.

Yesterday I was on the bus and the windows had condensation on them. I was watching this kid wiping the condensation off the window, then I realized that he was doing it with a used band-aid. I almost threw up all over the place. Where was his parent? Sitting right there, not caring.

I have made a new promise to myself that the next time I need to get up/sit down on the bus or train and the person in the aisle seat doesn't get up, but just swivels over so that I have to squeeze into the window seat, that I am going fart right in their face. My ass is at their face level, and they are being rude. So, they get a fart from me to show how equally rude I can be. I'm so sick of the lowest of the low, grossies and jerks, on public transportation.

Luckily I'm getting a bike this week so I can avoid the turds for the next couple of months. But, seriously, the jerks on public transportation test my patience. And I am failing the test. Failing with a saved up fart. So, watch out Chicago.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Spider germz

So. How many germs does a spider have on it? Because I smoked a re-fry that a spider walked on...Also, this is still not the grossest thing I've done to get some nicotine in me...

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

In which children don't get movie references

The other day two ten-ish year-old girls came through my line. They were buying milk, eggs and fabric softener. HA! No, actually they were buying various things that kids normally don't buy. Like milk and other shit. Anyway, I didn't see a parent around or anything and they had a $20 bill, and since their total was more than $20, they had to take a couple of things off...No big deal...So I ring them up, give them their change then lean in and ask them, "So, you guys, you're not in some type of Home Alone situation where your parents went on vacation and forgot to bring you with, right?" So then these girls just narrow their eyes, look at me and say, "Our parents...are at... HOME". And that's when I realize that they probably didn't get the reference and I was coming off like a creeper. But I still think their parents went on vacation and forgot them at home. For the record.

Friday, September 2, 2011



And then I fell in love with my gynecologist...

So on top of an already horrible and awkward couple of weeks, I decided to go get my clean bill of health, and I put in a rush order for it. Mostly for peace of mind (I have no idea how far the lies went), but also because I felt like being proactive should be a new goal for me, and mainly because makin' the rounds, and getting the STD/STI (what do the kids call it these days?) tests is some sort of marker.

So...yay for me.

Basically, they had to fit me in with some doctor that I'd never seen before, which is fine, but I've never seen a dude gynecologist, so I was a little like '...okay...I guess...', in the end, I wanted to get this stuff out of the way fast and if the price I had to pay was some dude poking around down there, well, it's not like that's never happened before. So, like so many things in life, I went for it.

So, I'm sitting in the room, in a gown made for a 600 lb man, wrapped up like a giant burrito, looking like a major turd (don't worry kids I did take a shower, I'm not that bad), expecting some old doctorly looking dude to walk in, and WTF kids, this talldarkandhandsome, age appropriate, not-too-professional, guy walks in and I'm just like, "SERIOUSLY?! UGH. Can things get any worse? Why can't he be weird or uggo or old or SOMETHING?!"

I gave myself about 1.5 seconds to wrap my mind around it. More than anything else at the gynecologist, you just end up being uncomfortable and embarrassed, and if you're me, then you say about 10 stupid things about nothing and act like a freak, don't worry, I didn't disappoint. For instance I started out one sentence with "Can I just be frank and kind of gross?" Which made him laugh...IMADEHIMLAUGH, IMADEHIMLAUGH, IMADEHIMLAUGH! +1 for meeeeeee!

Do you think he at least wants to be friends? JK. I don't have time for that shit.