Anti-Social 

I may or may not be a little anti-social, and by that I mean, I am. Long ago I learned that people are annoying and most lack common sense. 

I was a painfully shy child which I now realize was just me choosing to be quiet rather than tell everyone how stupid they were.

Somewhere in my late teens, I decided that I didn’t have to pretend to like everyone. Nor did I have to pretend that they were even somewhat tolerable. This often translated into me being called “stuck up” or a bitch. I didn’t put bitch in quotations because that’s actually true, but I’m not “stuck up” at all.

I don’t think I’m better than others,  I just don’t like them. Maybe you’re somebody else’s cup of tea, but not mine. Although, I would bet that some of you aren’t even a person’s (who is dying of thirst) drop of water because you’re awful.

Some people like to go through life thinking that humans are mostly good and that’s peachy, but not smart. I think humans are always human which means they can be lovely or terrible, fun or dangerous, intelligent or stupid…it’s a gamble. The truth is you just don’t know until you get to know them a little and that’s where you lose me. 

I don’t really want to get to know them. I’ve got plenty of great friends and my family is the most amazing so, no thanks. 

Please don’t sit near me. Please don’t make small talk with me, I’m not even listening. If I avoid eye contact with you, let it go. This girl doesn’t want to chat. 

As DJ Khaled said, “No New Friends”. 

Also, as the great (and sometimes seizure prone) Lil Wayne said, “I’m too old for new friends, but never too rich for new money”.

There you have it. Maybe I’m not anti-social, but selectively social.

Plus, you probably wouldn’t like me anyway. 

Just kidding, I’m the shit.

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By the way, that corner used to be occupied by another interesting character. I’m pretty sure she took over after beating him in a dance off competition. 

P.S. Hugs not Drugs. 

Attitude Problem

Gardeners, racing a Postman, and the original Spelling. Enjoy the chronicles of April 19th, 2017.

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Crazy Train

“Omg, I just saw your message. I was running from Zombies through an obstacle course at the time. Sorry!”

That’s the message I sent my mother on Monday morning after realizing I didn’t read her message from Saturday night.

I’m 36.

So believe me when I tell you that I judge myself pretty hard sometimes. Then, I realize that I’m not so bad.

Fun? Yes.

Ridiculous? Absolutely.

Responsible? Most of the time.

And that’s good enough, dammit.


My boss handed me a project today and all I could think was, “Ugh. I don’t have time for this.”

I totally have time. I’m among the time havers today, I just don’t wanna.

I’m super busy trying to remember all of my boyfriend’s pet peeves that he mentioned over the weekend so I can maintain a list, obviously.

Why would I keep an account of his pet peeves?

Glad you asked. I’m keeping it on the off chance that we someday get married so I can list all of them off during our vows, thus solidifying his complete understanding of how deep my love is because I have taken the time to acknowledge and notate every little thing that irks him. Duh.

I also can’t be bothered today because I’m still pondering why the little old lady left the stall door open yesterday in the bathroom while peeing. Was it an accident and when she noticed, she was already much too cozy to get up and lock it? Did she not notice until she was mid-stream so it was too late? Was it intentional and she just doesn’t give a shit anymore (hopefully not yesterday at least)?  I hope the latter was the case, but the not knowing will haunt me until at least 3pm at which point my mind will move on something equally as unimportant..

Like the fact that I have to break it to my favorite Ginger pal that I disagree about the best song on the Robert Plant/Alison Krauss album, but I hope we’ll still be Beer Friends Forever.

That’s it folks, the ADD train has left the station with only me on board. I think. I’m not even sure what train this is.


Cyclic Love Syndrome

Cyclic Love Syndrome. Yes, I made it up, but hear me out. You may have heard of cyclic vomiting syndrome and the symptoms are about the same.

It starts like this…

Two people meet. They proceed to:

Fall in lust

Fall in like

Fall in love

Live blissfully for 8.3 seconds

Love and annoy each other for 8.3 months, not always liking each other, but keeping those redeeming moments of lust

Fight

Still love each other

Argue

Kind of like each other

Disagree

Question their own sanity

Fall back in love

LUST

Fight…over the same thing

Fall back in like

Argue….again

Question their partner’s sanity

LUST

Disagree….50 more times

Laugh, lust, like, love…repeat

 

Sound familiar?

If you answered no, go back to watching afternoon talk shows, playing scrabble, or eating your 21 grain toast.

For the rest of us, what in the actual fuck? I mean, seriously. This cycle is true for 90% of the couples I know and love and is definitely true for me.

We tend to do this with the same person again and again and again. Why not just call it a day and start annoying somebody new?

I think it’s got something to do with some kind of weird chemistry that connects you to another person. Sure, over time you build a life and memories together which bonds you even more, but it’s more than that. There’s something that draws you back to someone and makes you want to drive them completely insane again and again. If that’s not love, I don’t know anything! (Which is quite possible)

Is there a down side? Absolutely. Sometimes, situations get toxic and unhealthy. If the bad outweighs the good by a lot, it might be time to go ruin someone else’s life. However, most of these relationships have enough redeeming qualities (great sex and inside jokes) to carry on and find some middle ground.

It goes something like this. “Look, you are annoying the ever living fuck outta me and I wanna rock your jaw a solid two times a week, but …

You make me laugh like no one else

You’re quite weird, but so am I

You dance like a fool

We’re fun

I like seeing you naked

We take care of each other

There’s nobody else I’d rather steal the covers from..

and, today, you picked your boxers up off the bathroom floor and put them in the hamper. Yay you! See, progress.”

I have zero doubts that he will do something in the next 5 days to make me want to end his Earthly journey, but until then. Amor.

Now, enjoy some of my favorite TV couples because we’ve got to keep a sense of humor and they’ve helped.

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And the most relatable for us personally…

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Abomination

I caught a glimpse of a Kardashian wearing one in a photo the other day, but I’d taken a benadryl and figured I was hallucinating.

Then, today, I saw a few more posts and realized that THIS IS HAPPENING…

Even celebrities are doing it..

(I’d like to believe he’s shielding his son from his clearly heinous choice)

 

(I sincerely hope Mickey elbowed her right in the side after this photo.)
 

 
Why?

Isn’t this country going through enough?! Do we really need to bring back the fanny pack?

I get it, ladies. Purses can be annoying, but how can we (children of the 90’s) support this?

Biggie, Tupac, ABC’s TGIF lineup…absolutely! Bring it back! I’ll even look the other way if someone is sporting some overalls, but this is too much.

What do we do? 

Should we pray it away? Fast? Protest? 

I would call upon the elders for advice, but let’s be honest, they probably never got rid of theirs in the first place.

God help us all.

Adulting

Did you guys miss me?! I can just see you now…sitting on the edge of your seat in anticipation, the way I do when the bartender is making me a Michelada.

I’ve been working far too much. Adulting is pretty stupid. There’s not nearly enough time for sleep and the responsibilities are endless, but you can eat cake whenever you want so there’s that. Also, the Micheladas.

As you can imagine; I’ve continued to talk to myself, learned the lyrics (and dance moves) to a few new songs, caused my daughter to roll her eyes at me 1,348 times, tried out some new recipes, made sure my cyber stalker is still around, and learned another language. Ok, fine. I didn’t learn another language, but the intent was there and isn’t that really what matters?

I’m happy to report that no matter how much time passes, my stalker never lets me down. Weeks or months go by and whenever I check in, there she’s been, diligently watching and commenting on my every move. Well, not my every move. I guess she sleeps and everyone poops, but you get the idea.

Now, don’t think I take for granted how lucky I am to have someone so fascinated by me. Sure, I’ve had to change user names multiple times and she says unfavorable things about me, but guys….that’s just a cover! Obviously, she thinks I’m great or she wouldn’t make the effort to know what I’m up to. I’m fascinated by her fascination with me and I can’t have her getting bored and moving on to someone else.

Other than that, I’ve just been preparing for the world to end because…WTF? The incessant violence and all of the hate is sickening. I guess all we can hope for is that someone finally catches all of the Pokémon thus ridding the world of all it’s impurities and creating peace once again. That’s why everyone is working so hard at it, right? I mean, grown adults wouldn’t invest time in it otherwise. Right? Guys?

Holy Frijoles, this is the end.

There are so many things I still have to do in life. I need a pet pig, an owl habitat, and at least 2 more dogs. I have to learn how to make Sushi, fold a fitted sheet properly, and ride a unicycle. LOL on the unicycle. Can you imagine these hips and thighs on that thing?

All of this “End Times” talk makes me wonder what other people have on their lists. I don’t like to call it a bucket list because that’s a little morbid. 

I decided to ask around and here’s what we’ve got:

*DISCLAIMER* If you are under 18, have prudish tendencies, or are mature in any way, stop reading now. 

 
1 – Perform a Salsa dance on stage, with lights, live music, and an audience. Clearly, I’ll  also be wearing an elaborate dress. Have a dressing room backstage with 5 hot Latinos attending to my every need.(Ok, I added the last part for her. You’re welcome, girl.)

2 – I’d move to the beach, do some parasailing and hot air ballooning. Have a threesome. Get a Yorkie. Spend my Golden Years high as a kite.

3 – Have a partner in life. Like a female partner, with female parts. Buy a place in Vegas and gamble 24/7, 364. Everyone needs a day off. 

4 – Become independently wealthy and spend a year in Western Europe ordering a six pack of the finest everything. Also, return the power strips I stole from work. 

5 – Participate in and win a Hot Wing eating contest. Have a record breaking(partner induced) 8 orgasms. Get married at least 2 more times. Look amazing in a bikini. Own a pug farm. Learn how to properly do my makeup. Get my Bartending license. Skydive again. Get fake boobs and pierce my nipples. 

6 – Go skydiving and scuba diving. Travel Europe. Buy a black 7 Series BMW. Take a cross-country trip, stopping in every town and city to preach the difference between there, they’re, and their. 

7 – Get lip injections, a facelift, a boob job, and dye my hair blue. After successfully changing my identity, I’ll travel through Europe with my band. Obviously, I’ll be fluent in Spanish and French so what better time to settle down on a farm in New Zealand with horses and maybe have another kid. In my down time, I’ll write a Sci-fi fantasy novel series and finish all of my tattoos. That’s just the plan for next year. I’ll get back to you with my long term goals, but they will most likely include swimming with dolphins. 
  

* All names have been withheld because these are obviously some shady characters who are probably on some sort of watch list and I don’t want them getting turned in because my daily life would suffer in their absence. 

 

Happy Tuesday, everyone. Go eat your tacos like good Americans.

Sugar Tits

Somebody named “Sugar Tits” started following me on Twitter today so I’d say things are definitely moving in the right direction. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m making the right decisions in life and little signs like this confirm that I absolutely am.

Keeping a sense of humor these days is crucial. I work for the government, “The Man”. To make matters worse, my particular field is kind of in politics – as in , I don’t give a shit about it, but we’re surrounded by politicians, regulations, and legal jargon. I know it sounds awful, but I actually love my job…most of the time.

However, I’m realizing more and more that we are surrounded by COMPLETE MORONS. They have zero logical thinking capabilities. If I can’t reason with someone, I just make fun of them because I’m mature.

Laughing keeps me on the right side of sanity most days. If it’s funny, inappropriate, and slightly offensive, I’m all about it.

To the New Yorker who came into our office this week wearing a fanny pack and loudly told us that she was “Absahloootlee Disscaahssstid” that she had to come down there because of what had been going on in the “Rahpublicaan Paahtee” and she just “has to vote fah Mr. Truuump”,

Ma’am, I assure you, we are equally disgusted that you had to come in to see us as well.

Some thoughts on the Republican party from Frankie on Twitter:

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As I was shopping at Target for the second(third) time in a week, I realized that I do this on a regular basis…

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Humans are so weird, myself included. What the hell? We’re touching a gross cart and pushing it around, but yes I’m sure the piece of paper inside of it is what’s contaminated. Dumb.

For those of you who aren’t weird and don’t do that..

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Way to go, you sound boring.

 

I don’t want you to leave here without something substantial. A little nugget of wisdom, if you will. Clearly, I have none of that for you, but Mr. Feeny on the other hand..

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Be weird, be funny, just don’t be a wiener…no fanny packs and don’t vote for Trump.

And now, I’m going to go drink on my Parent’s patio like a real adult.

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Simmer Down a Pinch

“The woman who does not require validation from anyone is the most feared individual on the planet” she whispered, posting another selfie.

Ladies, please.

Can we stop with the empowering quotes accompanying your third selfie that week. We get it, being single is your choice. No one can handle you. You look the same as you did two days ago. Thanks for reminding us.

Now, if you know me at all, you know I LOVE a good selfie…but at least I know I’m being a little vain. Embrace it, girls. Hair and make-up are fun. Feeling pretty should be celebrated, but c’mon, people don’t need daily reminders that you’re alive and your camera…err, phone still works. Simmer down a pinch.

Tuesday was International Women’s Day and I love to celebrate all that we are. I love women! I love them so much that I briefly(45 seconds) considered being a lesbian once. Then, I imagined what it would be like to live with another me. No thank you! Also, I prefer to be the pretty one in the relationship. See, vain.

All of the love for my gender aside, I have a couple of things maybe worth mentioning. Probably not, but I’m going to anyway because I never learn.

What’s with women in their 20’s and 30s getting Botox and fillers?! By the time you’re 40, you’ll have lost the ability to show emotions through any type of facial expressions. Are you mad? Happy? Sad? I can’t tell! I have a hard enough time figuring out who’s eyebrows are real these days. Also, men can hardly read us when all of our facial muscles are working. Simmer down a pinch.

As for me, I’ll stick with resting bitch face. It has served me well and saved me from many possible new friendships.

Let’s talk fashion for a second. Did floral leggings make a comeback? Wait, were they ever a thing? I don’t know, but for some reason I have seen numerous, ahem, ladies sporting these as of late. These skin tight pants/leggings come in a pattern that I can only imagine was ripped off their Nana’s 1992 sofa from her “Formal Living Room” and sewn into two hideous leg prisons. Simmer down a pinch.

The last thing I ever want to be is a woman who shops for a “sensible pant suit”. I’m mostly a jeans and cute top kinda girl, but I think we’ll all be better off if this trend makes it’s way to small town, USA with a quickness. I’d rather see Culottes make a comeback than have to endure these walking rose gardens all Spring. From my lips to God’s ears, please banish them. Amen.

These few annoyances are minor. I think women are amazing. We’re strong, smart, creative, crazy, loving, talented, crazy, beautiful, and some of us even smell good. Keep on keeping on, ladies! You do you. Even if it means having an immobile face, legs covered in chrysanthemums, and posting daily selfies. I will still love you….from a distance.

A parting note: If you’re a woman and are planning on voting for Donald Trump, kindly hand over your ovaries and form a line to the right because that shit’s ridiculous.

Someone wrote yesterday, “You just know Donald Trump is an unsolicited dick pic kinda guy.”

And I thought….yep, that about sums it up.

 

 

Tremors

Last week, I almost fell over while putting on my jeans. Needless to say, I’m not the smoothest of characters. I feel like I’m going to need quite a bit more time on this Earth to become my best self.

I made a step in the right direction today at lunch when I purchased and devoured this bowl of deliciousness..

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Then, the Earth shook…like, 4.8 magnitude shook. I hate to break it to my 3rd grade teacher, but there was no ducking or covering. All that training was in vain because I literally just sat there. My mind flashed back to the conversation I had with God on Saturday after Trump won the South Carolina Primary. It went something like this, “Lord, it might be time to flood the Earth again. Amen.” I not saying my prayer prompted the Earthquake, but I’m not not saying it either.

The second thing I thought was, TREMORS…

One of my coworkers yelled “Shit!” and took cover under his desk, making him my favorite person within a two mile radius.

After the shaking stopped, I did what any normal adult would do. I bought a bag a Funyuns and consumed them immediately. No way in hell I’m letting the last thing I eat in life be fruit. Not on my watch!

It isn’t my time to go, I have so much left to do. I still haven’t mastered the skill of remembering where I parked my car after going into CVS for 10 minutes. In fact, I’m only at CVS because I think having a $2 off coupon justifies me spending $47. I need help.

I have to stop the unnecessary remixing of songs that were just fine as they were. Not every song should be remixed, people!!

Mind you, this is coming from a person who passionately sang along to the song, My Humps, on the way home from my Allergist’s office today where the nurse called me “Sunshine”. Me, Sunshine. She clearly doesn’t know me at all. I can’t leave this Earth being so misunderstood.

Side note, somebody tell Selena Gomez and her adorable chipmunk cheeks to please keep her hands to herself. I’m really uncomfortable hearing a Wizard from Waverly Place sing so seductively on the radio. Stop it.

The point is, unless The Rock will be swooping in to save me, there need not be any more Earthquakes in my neck of the woods. Thank you, kindly.

I feel like you all should know that I’m typing this next to my boyfriend who is watching a Telenovela. El Señor de los Cielos to be exact.

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Aaaannd, he just farted. I’m living the dream. Sleep well.