Hangover

Goddammit.  I’m hungover as hell today.

Why did I think it’d be a good idea to drink pretty much an entire bottle of wine?  Then have a whiskey shot?  Then eat a little squishy raisin-looking thing that apparently had a crapload of weed in it?  On a Thursday?

Ugh.  Brain.  Stop being such an asshole!!

I woke up this morning feeling like this:

It's pretty accurate, actually. I even felt like I had a beard too.

Note to self:  If you’ve just downed an entire bottle of wine, then had a whiskey shot, just say NO to the little squishy raisin-looking thing.

And maybe you should have said NO to the whiskey shot too.

And the 4th glass of wine.

*HURK*

Happy Friday, gang!!

Whirlwind of F*ck

Beth coined a new phrase last week: Whirlwind of Fuck

“It’s a verbal illustration of when you’re stressed out/ running late/ freaking out, and you just keep saying “fuck!fuck!fuck!fuck!” – until you eventually leave the house (and everyone in it) in peace.”

Brilliant.

Then she asked me for an “expertly drawn illustration”.

Here’s what I came up with:

 

I wouldn’t say it’s “expertly drawn” but I like to think it captures the sentiment pretty well. :)

(Thanks to Cat A. Combs for collaborating!)

We still love you!

Hey gang.

Beth and I want to apologize for our lack of posts all week. It’s not because we don’t love you. We do. Very much. We’ve both been dealing with some frustrations this week and have selfishly ignored the blog and you. If you follow us on Facebook, you already know that we have offered beer-mosas as way of apology. Mmmmm… beer-mosas.

We had an email exchange yesterday that I wanted to share. We were discussing how we were both at a sort of crossroads in our lives and just not really sure which direction to go.

me: …Feeling stuck just sucks. That’s all there is to it. But we’ll figure it out. And we’ll get unstuck and we’ll be the best, happiest, can’t stop smilingist, couple of chicks this world has ever seen. Also, we’ll be rich. And probably doves will fly out of magic every time we enter a room. And we’ll fart rainbows. and tulips. purple ones. And you can finally get that pony. Yeah, take that, world!! 

I’m down for hanging out on Sunday. I’m going to scrimmage in the morning but am free after that.

Beth: …Holy shit – I can’t wait to start farting rainbows & tulips.  That would get us on “Ellen” for sure.  And DAMMIT I’d better get that goddamn pony.  I’ve been waiting for it forEVER!… I want to spit chocolate fireballs too, and be able to point my finger like a gun and go “PEW-PEW!!” at anybody that’s being a cockmonger, which will magically make their knees lock so that they walk around looking like idiots then fall over and not be able to get up again.  It’ll be amazing.

Oh, and Sunday I’m free all evening, so if you wanna do it at like 4 or 5 that’s A-OK with me! 

me: teehee. you said, “do it”. 

The conversation carried on from there and we agreed: maybe we don’t have it all figured out and maybe we have absolutely no clue what to do next.
But that’s okay.  Most people don’t have it figured out.
The good thing is we can still laugh.
And make you laugh too.
And that makes us smile.

Smilings our favorite, remember? :)

Oh HELL no….

…..THEY’VE FIGURED OUT CLONING!!!!

It was actually pretty easy. You humans always make things complicated. Like why turn a perfectly good nut into butter? It really should come as no surprise that we will defeat you.

Load up on the canned goods, and lock your doors, people.  THE SQUIRRELS ARE COMING.

This is why you shouldn’t take me to a car show…

Today my dad called me on a whim and said “Hey, it’s beautiful outside – wanna walk with me to the convention center for the car show?” – I couldn’t think of a reason why not!

Dad: “Wow, look at this one.  It gets 50 mpg, and starts at 17,000 – that’s really —-“

Me:  —-“LOOK AT THIS ONE!  IT’S PRETTY AND SHINY!  And blue. I like that it’s blue.  Isn’t it a pretty blue color?”

Dad:  “Yes, Beth, it’s very pretty.  I bet it comes in more than one color too.”

Me: “MORE COLORS!?  I like this car.”

Dad:  “Most cars come in more than one color, you know.”

Me:  “I know, but I really like the pretty colored ones.”

Dad:  *pointing to a car with gull-swing doors*  “Look at THIS one!”

Me:  “You wouldn’t be able to go to the grocery store without dinging the car next to you.”

Dad:  “Good point.  I’ve raised you to be much too practical.”

Me:  “I don’t think —- holy FUCKNUTS!!  It’s $200,000!!  I don’t think it’s a matter of ME being practical here.  I think it’s that anybody who even considers buying this car is impractical – which in turn makes everyone else practical.”

Dad:  “Another good point.”

Me:  *pointing to a mini cooper*  “Oooooo!!  Look at this one!  It’s little and cute and easy to park.  Just like me!”

Dad:  “I don’t even want to know what that means.  Why are you walking weird?”

Me:  “My shoes hurt.  These shoes were NOT made for walkin’.  They’re cute though, huh?”

Dad:  “Yes, they’re very cute.”

Me:  “I probably wasn’t the best person to bring to a car show was I?”

Dad:  “Probably not.  But it was fun spending time with you!”

Me:  “Same here.  Let’s go look at the pretty colorful shiny ones some more.”

 

Springtime means I get excited about stuff.

I went outside this morning to check & see how chilly it was, and this is what I found…

Me: “JOHN!! Quick! Come out here!!”
John: “WHAT!?”
Me: “MY FRIGGIN’ TULIPS ARE BLOOMING!! Ohmygosh I have to take a picture!”
John: “You are so weird.”
Me: “But I’ve never planted anything that’s GROWN before!”

I proceeded to run to the sink, and throw the biggest pot I could find under the faucet and begin filling it up.  In my brain all I could think was THEY NEED WATER TO SURVIVE and I was going to make that happen.  Unfortunately I don’t have a watering can (next thing I should *probably get), so I brilliantly come up with an idea to pour the water out of the pot and through a colander.  Of course, I require John’s help for this.

Me:  “JOHN!!  I need your help!”
John:  “With what?”
Me:  “You carry this outside, and I’ll hold the colander.”
John:  “You know we have a hose right?”
Me:  “I DON’T HAVE TIME TO FIGURE OUT A HOSE!!  THEY NEED WATER NOW!”
John: “Beth, they made it through the friggin’ winter.  You haven’t watered them since you planted them, and they’re still growing.  I think they’ll be okay.”
Me:  “Just friggin’ help me!!”

So we clumsily used teamwork to gently water the tulips.  And by “gently water” I mean dump way too much water in some places (and none in others), because I was frantically moving the colander too fast for John to keep up with me, and therefore ended up with water all up my arm, and huge displacements of dirt from where the water hit the ground at full force.

Really, I don’t know how these things made it.

Sh(OW!)er: A smelly kid’s lament.

I’m not really sure what my upstairs neighbor has against my personal hygiene. I’m usually being told I could pay a little more attention to cleaning myself. Honestly, lots of days, I’m busy and I just forget, but recently, I have been making an effort to bathe more regularly. This has apparently pissed my neighbor off. For the past few weeks, my shower time and her laundry/dishes/letting the faucet run for the hell of it times seem to be ‘coinciding’. And it’s totally fucking up my shower.

I’m in just long enough to get the water temperature where I like it and to get my hair soaped up when she decides it’s time to refill her goddamn aquarium or something. My shower water then turns scalding, burn-your-skin-off, hot and I make a banshee-like screech as I jump to the corner and plaster myself against the wall, out of the way of the liquid fire.

I spend the next several seconds contemplating how to get to the faucet without getting third degree burns on my nether regions. Thus far, the best I’ve come up with is a kind of duck and cover move, in which I, well, duck and cover, and skid through the burning water from hell into the opposite wall, grabbing the shower curtain for balance and hoping against hope that the curtain rod holds.

At the front of the tub now, I crank the faucet dial to cold and tentatively reach my hand into the stream. It feels like the fucking shower head is spitting out ice cubes! I start inching the knob back towards the warm but the water temperature doesn’t change, not until the dial is turned to full blast hot. Even then the water is only lukewarm, at best. At this point, I’m grumpy and cold and I have soap in my eyes and decide the best option is to just accept my fate and finish up in the cold water.

But, and I’m not even kidding, as soon as I step in the shower stream again, the water temperature turns back to blazing, lava hot and the cycle starts all over again. It’s like she knows; I imagine her standing by her toilet counting down, “3…2…1… annnnnd, flush!” And then a satisfied smirk when she hears my screech.

I am not sure there is anything in this world that makes me more cranky than a bad shower experience. Two weeks of this crap and I’m ready to throw in the towel.* Sorry, friends but the smelly kid is back.

*see what I did there? shower…towel… eh? eh? ;)

Don’t get in the water after John is done waterskiing…

John and I were driving home the other night, and saw a guy walking rather strangely while crossing the street…

Me: “That guy is walking like he’s got a stick up his ass.”

John: “Maybe he’s crippled or something.  You’re so insensitive.”

Me:  “Maybe he just got off a horse?”

John: “Maybe he’s on meth?”

Me: “Maybe he was water skiing?”

John: “OK, you lost me there.”

Me:  “Have you ever fallen on your ass while water skiing?  Water shoots up your butthole and it hurts like a mo-fo.  You basically get ass-raped by the water.  You have to float there while the boat pulls around to get you, clenching your butt cheeks together and learning how to breathe again.”

John:  “You could always just fart really hard – I bet that would clear out all the water.”

Me:  “I can’t fart on cue.  Not without a large plate of nachos or pizza, and a beer.  Besides, I’d probably just end up pooping myself from trying too hard.”

John:  “That’s OK, just pull down your swim trunks, and do what you gotta do!”

Me:  “Eww – poop in the water!?  WHILE I’M IN IT??  And by the way, I don’t wear swim trunks.  I’d probably be wearing a one-piece.”

John:  “Oh, come on.  It’s not that gross.  Just expose the area you have to, get the job done, then…” *makes a motion of washing off his hands in the water*

Me:  “You had pink-eye a lot when you were a kid, didn’t you?”

John:  *laughs hysterically 

John:  “Oh wait…. crap.”

Me:  “What?”

John:  “This is going to end up on the blog, isn’t it?”

Me:  “Probably.”