Yes, you read that right. I went running yesterday evening.
Here’s what it looked like:
For about 20 city blocks.
I was not happy. Grace, however, loved every second of it. Little shit.
My former (as of about 20 minutes ago) friend, Cat, and I were chatting today. Somehow our conversation led to her sending me this:
It’s like she Rick-Rolled me. But worse. Much, much worse.
And now I’ve done the same to all of you. I hope we can still be friends.
Real conversation with Megan via G-Chat today (I had just gotten back from my break):
Megan: What’s goin’ on?
me: Hang on a sec….
Megan: ok. but you should know that there is a squirrel sitting on the electrical line from my house about 6 feet away from my head just staring at me. He looks like he’s poised for attack. He keeps chattering at Grace* and I but Idk what the hell he’s saying. I think he’s threatening us.
me: LOL!! Stop making me crack up!! My boss is even more suspicious as to what I do at my desk giggling all day now.
Megan: He ran off now.
me: Whew – that was a close one
Megan: I’m pretty sure I just got ‘told’.
Megan: that was actually really terrifying. he would stare at me for a bit and then stare at Grace…and then me again
me: OH – sorry. Squirrel threats really are no laughing matter
Megan: we made eye contact
me: *shudder* creepy
Megan: i swear he was trying to read my thoughts
me: They’re ALWAYS trying to read our thoughts
Megan: i know, i know. But this time it was like he was trying to SEE them. I’m not even trying to be funny. It was fucking creepy
me: LOL – you’re still funny though.
*Grace is Megan’s very special, very energetic doggie (and squirrel hunter).
Megan’s post earlier today reminded me of the fact that John and I can’t play board games together anymore.
It all began when my family and I decided to bring out an old favorite at Christmastime – “Scattergories”.
Now, let me preface this with saying that John is a very passionate and competitive person. It’s a quality that I love about him! He throws himself fully into every situation, and goes for the gold every time. It’s pretty great, and I love that he gets so excited about things.
However, sometimes “competitive” turns a bit “crazy”. And during this particular game, John wanted to WIN.
Now, I don’t remember exactly what words were exchanged. But I do remember getting SO MAD at the fact that John had to get ALL of the words, even when they didn’t seem to follow the rules. Even when we took a “vote” about whether or not the word was something we’d all accept, he’d get angry and he’d still get the point even if we all voted “no”.
It was pretty much my first moment I’d ever felt like murdering John in front of my family.
OK, that makes it sound like I’ve wanted to murder him a lot of times in front of my family, but that’s not really true. This was really the only time, honest.
Anyhoodle, skip forward a few months to a dinner night at Katy & George’s place. We all decided to play “Pictionary”. That’s safe, right?
Uhm…. apparently not.
Someone decided it’d be fun to do a Girls VS Boys game (yeah, because that always works out so well), which only complicated things further. John was determined to win this one for the boys, and bend the rules to his liking* – causing a lot of frustrated yelling and cursing, and name-calling that was said jokingly but probably mostly true.
John: “We totally had that right before you did! We totally did!”
Katy: “Uhm, well Marc was looking at our drawing and not yours.”
John: “But he can do that! It doesn’t matter – he got it first!”
Me: “Actually he didn’t, we totally got it right first.”
Marc: “Yeah, I do think they actually did get it first.”
John: “Shut up, Marc! YOU GOT IT RIGHT FIRST DAMMIT!”
(or something like that)
*Now, John doesn’t think he was “bending the rules”… and many times he said “this is always how WE play it.” Eventually I picked up the box and shoved the instruction sheet in his face and screamed THAT’S NOT HOW THE BOX SAYS TO PLAY IT! Which shut him up for a little while at least. But I digress.
Today I told Megan about John’s board-game-winning-strategies.
Me: “You know how you were talking about Words With Friends earlier? You probably should never play Scrabble with John. He’s pretty crazy-competitive.
The reason I don’t play Pictionary with him either.
You know, it’s probably just to avoid board games with John all together. ;)”
Megan: “I once almost ended a friendship over ‘Sorry'”
Me: “That’s kind of appropriate though? Sorry we can’t be friends anymore because of Sorry.”
It sounds like John and I should never play a board game together.
I think there’s a good chance we’d both get a bit stabby.”
Me: “Haha! Yes, true.
I just had an image of you guys attacking each other with the mini-weapons from the Clue board game.”
Megan: “Dibs on the lead pipe”
Me: “You could stick it up his nose.”
Megan: “obvi :)”
So John, you’ve been warned. You may want to count the Clue board pieces ’cause Mrs. White* is coming after you… most likely in the living room, with the lead pipe.
But really, when it comes down to it, these are just games. Sure, John gets excited and competitive, but I guess I do as well (otherwise I wouldn’t bother yelling back). That’s what makes it fun and exciting right? Wanting to murder your friends and loved ones over a game? That’s fun!
Luckily card games and dominoes seem to still be relatively safe. So far…
*Megan, you’re only Mrs. White because you’re…. well… so white. Well, kinda gangsta, but still pretty white.
I only discovered this game a few months ago. Well, actually I knew about it long before but I didn’t start playing until recently. If you somehow don’t know what Words with Friends is, ummmm… 1.) How do you NOT know what Words with Friends is?? 2.) It’s Scrabble. But they have to call it something different. Probably because they don’t want to piss off (or pay) the Hasbro’s.
Vocabulary is not my forte so I never much liked the board game (I hate losing.) For the same reason, I didn’t figure I’d care much for the online version, but dammit, I love it! It’s great because you can play words that you didn’t know were actually words. Like TARGE. My friend, Jess, played that one today and afterwards admitted she had no idea it was a real word until Words with Friends accepted it. I had never heard of a TARGE either and because we were too lazy to look it up, we decided it’s an insult. “Billy is SO stupid. What a targe.” (I’ve since looked it up and discovered that it is an archaic word for target. Borrrrrring. I’m sticking with our definition.)
I only have one complaint with the game: you should be able to plead your case for the existence of a word. If Words with Friends doesn’t know your word, you can’t play it. And that’s crap. You don’t know ALL the words, Words with Friends. Buncha targes.
A few days ago, I tried to play ‘QUAILY’ but Words with Friends told me no.
“Sorry, ‘QUAILY’ may be misspelled or may be a proper noun!”
It is NOT misspelled and it is NOT a proper noun. It’s a real word and I use it all the time. (By all the time, I mean never. Because it’s not actually a word. But the Y landed on a triple word score which turned a 16 point word into a 57 point word and I am terribly competitive and stubborn, so I have since incorporated ‘QUAILY’ into my everyday vocabulary and will be petitioning Words with Friends to acknowledge their mistake.)
Beth sent me this video earlier today:
Which led to this conversation:
I found this brilliant article today while roaming the internets. I am choosing to believe it was written as a giant “Fuck you” in response to some ridiculous, mundane assignment. If this is indeed the case, Laura T. Coffey (the author) is an expert smart ass who should be my friend. I refuse to consider the alternative (that this article was written in any kind of seriousness).
Here are are few of my favorite parts of the piece. For the full article, go HERE.
A WIN: A faux-hawk never really goes out of style. To maintain this look in all kinds of weather, flip your head upside down before blow-drying, then mist with a light-hold hairspray.
A MISS: This look does nothing to accentuate this alpaca’s beautiful face. To make matters worse, too much fur near the mouth can ensnare un-chewed grass in an unsightly manner.
A PARTIAL MISS: Tina Turner called. She wants her wig back. (Although actually, on second thought, Tina’s signature style doesn’t look too shabby on this alpaca.)
I imagine that Laura’s editor came into her office with an assignment on hairstyle do’s and don’ts. Laura argued but it was to no avail. She hadn’t been able to get a serious assignment ever since last year’s Christmas party. So she had had a few too many egg nogs and taken the lead on the Macarena and flipped up her skirt a bit, flashing her “Buddy the Elf” underwear. She was just being festive. It wasn’t as bad as Janet in Accounting who gave the hired Santa a drunken lap dance to the tune of Mariah Carey’s, “All I want for Christmas.” (Seriously, that DJ sucked.) Five months of cat shows and hot dog eating contests and now hairstyle dos and don’ts and Laura had had enough. She wrote the article and turned it in just at her deadline, knowing her editor wouldn’t read it because she didn’t give a crap about hairstyles (If you saw the woman’s hair, you would know that to be true. Seriously, Rita, get rid of the damn scrunchie.) Her article published without Rita even glancing at it. And now, Laura’s wit and smart-assery are being celebrated all over the internet (or at least on this blog).
Suck it, Rita.
Kerstin Joensson/ AP gets credit for all of the above photos. She has a bright future in alpaca fashion photography. Just look at those facial expressions she captured. They all kind of remind me of Zoolander. Especially the faux-hawk one.
I wonder who would win a walk off…
Zoolander photo found via a Google image search. Thanks, Google!
Cause I have.
Just now. I just emailed The Bloggess. If you haven’t read her blog, go. Do it right now. The woman is fucking hilarious. She has a bit of an obsession with taxidermied animals so when I came across something called Rogue Taxidermy on Regretsy (another brilliant site, check that one out too!) I had to share it with her.
Here’s what I sent:
My friend, Beth and I love, LOVE your blog and wanted to write to offer up our most biggest congrats on the success of your book. And also to share this with you:
I found it today and immediately thought of you. Beth and I have decided to call the crazy-penis-magician-monkey, Chris Angel. Because he looks like a Chris. And also because it’s easier than saying crazy-penis-magician-monkey every time we talk about him.
Best of luck on the rest of your tour!
PS. Chickpeas & Hulahoops is our shared blog. We like to think we’re funny.
PPS. We named the bird, Shaquille.
And then (here’s the best part) SHE EMAILED ME BACK!!
No kidding, I peed my pants a little bit. And got a boner.
She said, “Love it!”
That’s an exclamation point at the end of that “Love it”. It’s a big deal.
Thank you, Bloggess, for making my entire week!
About 3-weeks ago I started doing the INSANITY workouts.
I have to get up earlier than usual to do them, because I know that when I come home from work at the end of the day, there’s no damn way I’d get my ass off the couch.
Did I mention I have to do a workout 6 days / week? YEAH. I DO.
John has been helping me stay motivated.
Me: *whining* “I don’t WANNA do another workout today!”
John: “Then don’t! You’re obviously tired.”
Me: “WTF!? Dude, you’re supposed to say ‘stop whining and just do it, Beth. You wanted to get in shape, so just shut up and do your workout! Tummy-wobblin’ beeatch!'”
John: “Oh, sorry.”
—-45 minutes later—-
Me: “Well, I’m glad I did that. It fucking sucked, but I’m glad I did it. Shaun T can be a real dick sometimes.”
John: “I have a sticker for you.”
Me: “WHERE DID YOU GET STICKERS!?”
John: “From my mom’s.”
Me: “Why didn’t you say that before??”
Yes, I still find stickers a valid reward for my accomplishments. And every morning I hear John say, “Great job, babe! You get another sticker!” I giggle and clap my hands.
Good lord, I just admitted to that.
I’ve recently made some references to frustrations I’ve been encountering in my life. Mostly, my disgruntlement is stemming from unhappiness at my job. I’ve been working towards changing that situation. Not with much luck, however. Turns out it’s difficult to find a new job when you have absolutely no idea what sort of job you want to find. So, I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching and Saved By The Bell watching in an effort to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. (Admittedly, the Saved By The Bell watching isn’t exactly helpful or ‘grown-up’ but it’s such a good damn show!)
Anyway. This weekend I crossed beautician off my list of possible new careers.
As I am apt to do in times of chaos and confusion, I decided to change my hair. I got a couple boxes of dye and locked myself in my bathroom.
And then, ummm…. well, you know that scene in Grease where Frenchy has a “little trouble in tinting class”? Yeah. Ummm… that. Exactly that.
And here’s me…
If “Fuck me, Fuschia!” had been my intended outcome, I’d be all set down a new career path. But since I was aiming for “Lusty Lavender”, I think it’s best I keep exploring my options. And watching more Saved By The Bell.