Thursday, November 29, 2012

I can't move my fucking arms.

This isn't a real post, guys.  Eddie is making me do Asylum 2 and we started this week.  After doing 1,000 girly push-ups, I can no longer feel my arms.  My last push up consisted of me falling on my face because my arms gave out.  I'm actually typing this post with my tongue.  

Tonight we did Power Legs.  It was all jumping and squatting...  and just when you thought it was time to end it and stretch your shit out, Sean T makes you do 5 minutes and 30 seconds of pulse squatting whilst holding a weight.  

I'm pretty sure he is the devil.

Seriously, motherfuckers, I'd rather give birth again than repeat that shit next week.  Tomorrow is some other horrible workout.  But I promise to post at some point with a real one.  Because by tomorrow, although I wont be able to feel my legs, the feeling in my arms should be back.

Hugs! (Though not with my arms...  I'll just kind of awkwardly lean into you... and you could lean into me... just don't touch any of my muscles.)


Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Job Quitting Made AWESOME and Totally Non-Awkward for Everyone Involved

Quitting my last job was possibly one of the most awkward moments in my life.  My old boss was not the nicest of people.  Not to mention that I'm pretty sure he had a sprinkle of crazy about him.  Anyway, I hate confrontation, so quitting is probably one of the most horrible things anyway.  Besides public speaking and clowns.  We ended up in a yelling match where I told him I couldn't work for someone who was a "black hole of negativity that sucks all the happiness from the office just by being there." 

So, should I ever have to quit a job again, I have developed possibly one of the most perfect plans to so without any awkwardness or hurt feelings.

Here is my Easy to Follow 14 Step Plan...

Step One:  Befriend an army of feral cats (At least 100)

You'll need at least 100 or so, depending upon the size of your office

Bonus points if they can pull off the look of death...

Step two:  Train said cats to attack ribbons, but only when thrown (This is important for your safety.)

This part should be fairly easy.  Cats, by nature, love ribbons.

Step Three:  Bring all cats to workplace on the morning of what shall henceforth be known as The Special Moment

Luckily, cats are known for their ninja-like skills thus giving them the dexterity needed to blend into their environments.

Step Four:  Cover body in flowing ribbons of any color you desire

The more ribbons the better!!!

Step Five:  Release feral cats into the workplace

May the odds be ever in your favor!

Step Six:  Walk into boss's office with boombox held high over your head (Note:  Rewatch "Say Anything" prior to The Special Moment)


Step Seven:  Begin interpretive dance of The Quitting Souls of Mordor

They do not.  They CAT DANCE...  Now with ribbons!!!

Step Eight:  Towards the middle of The Dance, call cats by using special call practiced whilst bonding with said cats over dinners and wine

Fancy dressed cats make me giggle...

Step Nine:  Begin to remove ribbons one by one and throw them at unliked people in the office

Let the games begin!!

Step Ten:  Pirouette

Once again... WITH FEELING!!!

Step Eleven:  Throw more ribbons

MORE!!!  MORE!!!!

Step Twelve:  Laugh maniacally as cats attach the fuck out of everyone


Step Thirteen:  Air guitar!!!

I love you, Keanu...

Step Fourteen:  Moonwalk out of office

And THAT'S how it's done!!!

Feel free to use any of the above steps during your next Special Moment.

You're welcome!

Friday, November 23, 2012

If I Could Bottle the Badassery of my Children, I'd be a Millionaire by Now.

If you follow this blog regularly, you may know that I have birthed 2 of the most badass little people that I know.  If not, you can read more about Jasmyn, my 6 year old, HEREAlyssa is more in the practice of the quiet badassery.  I'm pretty sure she's a ninja and is fluent in the art of mind control.

And if you had to click on that link, you should also probably become a follower of this blog.  For your own safety and that of your family.
Anyway, in tradition of the holidays and all that family jazz, I wanted to share some more conversations with Jasmyn.  

<Insert spirit fingers here>

How the world sees Jasmyn.

Jasmyn (to a friend visiting over the house):  Be quiet, Zoe!!!  I'm trying to take a dump!!!

They'll take over the world one day.  This I vow.

Jasmyn:  Alyssa, you want to play Sister, Sister?
Alyssa:  What game is that?
Jasmyn:  We carry guns and go shopping, taking anything we want.

Don't fuck with her.  No, really...

Jasmyn (after a fight with her big sister):  Alyssa!!!  I'm going to take your eyes!!!

Vampire/Zombie Hunters FOR LIFE!!!

Jasmyn (after Eddie explains how to play chess on his phone):  Guess what, Daddy...  I thought the king was a pretzel this whole time!

She wins every time.

Jasmyn (after hearing on the radio that Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez broke up):  Good...  I heard he once punched an old man in public.

She was once given the coveted position as an X-Men.  Even I'm jealous of this one.

During the black out after Hurricane Sandy, Jazzy packed a "Survivor bag" just in case... It contained a banana, bottle of water, toy gun and a battle axe... Oh.. and a pair of socks. 

She likes to keep it real.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

This isn't a post about the holidays... It's a post about shitting your pants... just in time for the holidays.

What I am about to share with you must never be mentioned or told to anyone else.  It is, perhaps, one of the most embarrassing moments in my life.  Only 3 people know about this...  Well, and now all of you.  And especially don't tell Eddie, because this is the sort of thing he would never let me live down.  EVER!

Luckily, I never let him live anything down either...  BRONY FOR LIFE, EDDIE!!!

Hang on...  I'm gonna need to go have a beer before I can actually write this post.  

Ok...  That's better...

Once, after a night of drinking at a friend's house that was so epic I had to sleep over, I found myself awoken at 5 am with some tummy rumblings.

I am, by nature, a morning pooper. And my friend had (at the time) a toilet with questionable flushing capabilities. Now, I am not the kind of person who usually gets shit-shy over a pal's house, but the last thing I wanted to do was overflow a toilet that was barely working in the first place. So, I figured that I would just hightail it home for my morning poo.


I live 45 minutes away.  Also, she lives in the middle of nowhere.  Meaning that should an emergency occur, there are no rest areas around to relieve myself, except for maybe some one's backyard or driveway.  As an outsider, you can already see the flaw in my plan, right?

Like a hero, I flew out of there, determined to make it back to my bathroom so I could shit comfortably... with the newest issue of Glamor Magazine.

This is EXACTLY how I look on the toilet...  Seriously.  I'm that glamorous.  All.  The.  Fucking.  Time.

I would love to tell you that that's exactly how it went down, but that would be a lie.

I shit in my pants, guys...  

I shit my pants in my car... 

I shit my pants in my car 10 minutes into my drive...  

My colon is an asshole...  Literally.

That's 35 minutes left of driving.

So, for 35 more minutes, I had to sit in my own feces with all my windows down and my sunroof opened on a particularly frigged morning.  Sometimes your own smell can really be offensive. 

I need to upgrade my car.

Did I mention I borrowed some pajama pants?


I shit in my best friend's pants.

I'm so sorry, Nicole...  Please forgive me.

Needless to say, I cleaned up as soon as I got home. It was not pleasant.  Kind of like changing a baby's diaper, but on a full grown person...  A full grown person who ate an entire package of goat cheese the prior night...  Who is also lactose intolerant. 

I did buy my girl new pants. Because I'm classy like that. But then I kept them because they were dead comfy...  Because I'm also an asshole.

Now,  never speak of this again...

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Things me and Abraham Lincoln have in common: 1. We are both master axe wielders and 2. We can both kill the fuck out of some vampires

Conversation between me and Eddie:

Eddie:  I really want to see that new Abraham Lincoln movie.  It's supposed to be really good.

Me:  Sure.  I like vampire history movies.

Eddie:  No.  It's the historical movie about Lincoln's life.

Me:  Yea.  I know.  He's a vampire hunter.  And also my favorite president.

Eddie:  Abraham Lincoln is not a vampire hunter.

Me:  Don't be silly.  That guy found his diary and wrote a book.  We both read it!

Eddie:  I'm not going to win this argument am I?

Me:  Who's arguing?  We can go see the new fictional movie on Lincoln if you want.  I can pick out which of the cast members are probably vamps.  I'm awesome at that.

Eddie:  Sigh....

And just to prove that I am probably related to Abraham Lincoln and his long lineage of vampire hunting family...

This was my first time wielding an axe at my glorious friend Nicole's house.  She lives in the wilderness.

Under the close watch of Richard Gere, I became a champion.  He was the Mickey to my Rocky Balboa. 

Fuck YEA!  I made wood my bitch (in a total non-pornographic way).

Then we burned the wood.  And sang songs about chopping wood.  And drank a plethora of beer to the memory of the wood.  There was pizza too.  And beer...  Did I mention beer?

I'm also pretty fucking handy with a chainsaw.  In case you were wondering.

Thanks to all my wonderful friends who trusted me enough to put an axe, a chainsaw and beer in my hands, all in the same day.  You don't find many people in life that trust you on that level.  Well, me...  Anyway.  Because apparently I'm the person at the top of the office pool who will be the first to snap and go shit crazy one day.  So, when you find people who will love you and give you weapons (and beer) without much fear in their eyes...  Well, people.. You...  You hold the fuck on to those motherfuckers and you Never. Let. Go. 

Unless they get bit by a zombie, that is.  Then you blow their fucking heads off.

Thursday, November 8, 2012

Kill the Kardashians. Save the World.

So, there I was sitting in my dark cubicle today at work after we lost power, contemplating the best way to turn my black turtleneck into a ninja costume so that I could hide in dark corners and jump out to scare the bejesus out of my co-workers, when a thought hit me....   What if the Mayans are right? What if the world really is about to end.  Have I done everything I've ever wanted? Do I feel fulfilled?  I pondered this thought and came to the realization that I'm not ready to go yet. There are still too many things I need to accomplish...  Like to finish gathering various odd skills that would enable me to quit my job and become a Carnie, just like I always dreamed of ever since I was a little girl.  

A girl can Dream, can't she?

I know...  It's a bit of a weird dream to have.  But I think we can all agree that I'm not exactly the picture of normal.  I mean, I literally spent an hour on that ninja idea today.  Followed by the thought: "I wish I wore socks today. A solid sock puppet show is just what this company could use right now to boost morale during these dark times."  Followed by the acting out of the Top That rap from Teen Witch on my sad, sock-less hands.  

Just as I was about to draw eyes on them with a highlighter (since some asshole stole my sharpie marker... Or the company revoked my sharpie privileges... Whatever.)  a thought hit me...  And that's when I knew how to save this little rock of ours that we call home. 

Kill the Kardashians.

Katch 'Em.  Kill 'Em.

Ok.  Now, before you go all bleeding-heart-it's-wrong-to-kill-people on me, hear me out!  I mean...  We are talking about billions of lives here.  

It's up to us, people!!!
Now...  The Mayans were really into virgin sacrificing, right?  And i don't think it was because virgins were pure.  I think it was because virgins really represented them as a people.  And what do you all think would represent us as a people this day in age? 

Virgins?  Been there.  Done that.

All that is good and holy?  Fuck no. (P.S.  CUTEST PICTURE EVERRRRRRR!)

Tom Cruise?  Maybe...

Unicorn poon?  Yes, but it's too late in the game to score some of that.  I mean...  I do know a guy who knows a guy that could score some but he's kind of unreliable.

Lets not kid ourselves.  Somewhere we went down the wrong path.  Instead of choosing righteously, we picked the wrong cup in the cave with Indiana.  But before we melt down into skulls, we have an option!  We can make this right.  First we must renounce our assholeness and give ourselves a well deserved do over.  

Choose wisely...

We must make a sacrifice to the old Gods to restore order to the world.  We must sacrifice that represents the things we want to wipe from the slate to start anew.

And what better way to do this than stab a Kardashian?!? 

It's the only way...

Or maybe all 3... Just to be safe.

Let's make this happen...  For the good of mankind!
Fuck it...  We are talking about the world here.  We should just do the whole family.  

Better safe than sorry!

Or maybe I just really hate the Kardashians...  But are you willing to take that kind of risk?  I think not.

Now, who's with me?!?!

Or should I just go back to my regularly scheduled puppet show?

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

If I were a bird, I would fly away... And also shit on people in fancy clothes.

I just want to go on record as saying that Sandy can suck my asshole.  That was the worst Valcation EVER!  I guess the mentally challenged hurricane did not get the memo on how Valcations are supposed to go down.  They are supposed to be awesome and include the following happenings:

1.  Lots of happy drinking...  NOT sad drinking because there is nothing else to do in the darkness that you once called a home.  The latter of the 2 often leads to alcoholism and/or karaoke night in which you sing a plethora of rock ballads and refuse to leave the stage.  When this happens, you may or may not be attacked by ninjas.  It's a little known fact that those fuckers hate rock ballads.

Happy Drinking = YES!

Drunk Karaoke = NO!

2.  Video games!!  And having off all week should mean that one would finally have the time to play Lollypop Chainsaw instead of just looking longingly at the box every time you walk by it.  Thus leading to flashbacks to your younger years where things were so much less complicated and you could sleep until 2 in the afternoon and had the metabolism of a rock star... with all the time in the world to finish every game on the planet.

Awesome Video Games = YES!

Teenagers = NO!

3.  Valcation eating...  Which obviously means that calories don't count.  Apparently, calories count double during retarded storm induced blackouts because I gained about 10 pounds this week.  Have you ever tried squeezing back into your unforgiving fancy pants on the morning you have to return to work!?!  Then you know what happened to me.  I felt like a motherfucking sausage all day.  And I'm pretty sure I looked like one too.  And not a cute sausage, guys.  A gods damned Vienna sausage.

Chocolate that loves me = YES!

Sausage thighs = NO!

4.  Watching all of your favorite shows or missing them because your on a glorious island drinking drinks with little umbrellas in them.  It does not mean missing all of your shows, sitting in the dark with whiny kids and crying in a dark shower because the last of your sanity just went down the drain.

Island drinks = YES!

Shower Crying = NO!

5.  Not having to worry if your car is low on gas because you could just pick up that shit whenever.... It does not mean having a panic attack because your license plate ends in a letter and you don't know if that means its odd or even.  Then spending hours in line with other horrifically stressed out people who give you dirty looks for having a jam session in your car.

Spontaneous bear ride = YES!

Gas lines with assholes = NO!

6.  Having a great time with your family.  Not having your six year old fall down and break her elbow and wrist and having to spend all day at the emergency room then take her to a specialist where a creepy old lady grabs your hair and tells you how beautiful you are with teary eyes before her handler wrangles her up.  Seriously...  Old people freak me the fuck out.  Not cool old people, mind you.  The old people that look like the lady that comes out of the tub in The Shining. 

Fun times with the family = YES!

Jazzy with cast (even though she will eventually learn to use it as a weapon) = NO!

Crazy old lady touches = FUCK NO!!!!!

All in all we were really fucking lucky compared to a shitload of people in NJ.  My beastie, Nicole, won't have power until Thanksgiving and the amount of destruction in South Jersey is heartbreaking.  If you would like to make donations to help those that could really use it click here.

And now I hear that some other fucking asshole of a storm is approaching tomorrow.  It's like...  What did we ever do to you, Mother Nature?!?  Slow your roll before I get angry, bitch.

And trust me... You wouldn't want to see me angry.  Seriously...  I scream and yell and throw things.  Sometimes I cry too.  It's an ugly thing. 

Nobody wants to see this.  Not Never.

I hope you all stayed safe out there if you were in Sandy's path!!  And if not, I hope that you stayed safe anyway.  Like... Used condoms and shit. 

Because herpes is forever.