BLD MEAL: Bones of a Lady DEAD aka Why I hate Rachael Ray aka YUMMO!

Let's talk about how much I hate this bitch, Rachael Ray.

Rachael Ray is incredibly popular. She has her own shows, her own books, magazines, cookware, theme song, etc. She's a fucking hero in cook-land. She is the epitome of middle-america-super-market-stay-at-home moms who can't do anything but sit around in their pajamas and think about taking the kids out in their 800 dollar stroller maybe to the library or to dad's work to see if he is actually AT work. But then their fat friend calls and the decide to get the kids together to see which one is smarter and then MAYBE they do some baby yoga, if they are feeling extra fat that day. But then their OTHER mom friend comes over and they decide to all sit down and watch Rachael Ray instead because she is doing makeovers and then cooking "Messy Giuseppe", which is just like a nasty ass sloppy joe with a dumb cutesy name.

Rachael Ray has the dumbest cutesy names for everything: "EVOO, BLD meal, Stoop, BRUTUS salad (instead of caesar)"...

...and don't GET ME STARTED on "SAMMY"!!!! It's not a fucking "Sammy" you stupid bitch!! It's a god damn sandwich. We aren't 3 years old and we aren't amused. Stop fucking throwing salt all over the place and stop smiling and acting like you are nice. It's okay to be a bitch sometimes, Rachael!! GROW UP.

Oh and here's another one: "Not-sagna"....god shut up already and go back to college! I wish I could sick Gordon Ramsey on her.

Seriously though, STOP throwing all that salt. For one thing, it's not cute. Some dude has to clean that up later. FUCK YOU RACHAEL RAY. if I ever see you I'm going to grind up your bones and use YOU in a bottom of the jar recipe!! You are going to need more than luck if you come into my house throwin salt all over MY floor!! I'll be throwing YOU over my shoulder and making YOU clean it up with your tongue!! And then sanitizing, because, ew.

This beezy was in Maxim one time too:



Ok. We ALL know that Maxim doesn't shy when it comes to photoshop. But REALLY, Maxim? REALLY, Rachael??? Who are you trying to fool?? Everyone knows you are way fatter than that.


And with all the photoshopping going on in this picture, you'd think they'd fix her tits up a bit. Gross dude. But really, does ANYONE really want pie after seeing that? BARF!

You are not cute. You waste salt. You make dumb recipes. You ruin stay-at-home moms' lives. Fuck you, Rachael Ray.

Dear Diarrhea: An exerpt from the desk of Sam Pool

10/21:

Dear Diarrhea,

Have you ever stopped to notice that my last name could be "Poo"if you removed the L? Isn't that funny?

Sincerely,

Sam Poo

*********

10/22:

Dear Diarrhea,

Here is a log of today's happenings:


12:45: That one stunk. Smelled like poop.

12:46: That one was loud. Sounded like an elephant.

12:47: Gross, That one smelled like eggs.

12:48: That one smelled like dog food.

12:50: Oh man, I need to poop.


Sincerely,

Sam Poo
**********

10/23:

Dear Diarrhea,

I ate a lot of pickled eggs today. Then I farted. Oh man that stunk. Smelled like poop.

Sincerely,

Sam Poo

Save the Planet, Nuke a Hippy.

The other day I took a lunch break. Fairly typical, I came home and checked my facebook, did some dishes and then warmed up some thai peanut noodle leftovers. I don't have a fucking microwave, because for some reason I thought it would be all classy and hipster to have "real food" that doesnt taste nuked. ME. The girl who doesn't cook. The girl who can't even make an egg or go a day without craving Oreos. My hippy friends always talk about how great it is that they don't own a microwave. These are the kind of people that eat grass. One time I was hanging out with some hippy chick in Eugene and all she did was talk about raw corn and how much she craves it. RAW CORN. I mean, I crave corn too but only of the high fructose variety. I'd also like to mention she was wearing a cape and didn't have shoes on. Raw Corn Girl is the type who shouldn't have a microwave. Not me. Yet for some reason I get these half-baked ideas and run with them.

Let bygones by bygones, I foolishly and prematurely nixed the nuker. Now I live with the consequences. Now it takes 30 minutes to heat up some damn chinese leftovers. By the time I warmed up the food on the stove on this particular lunch break, it was time for me to jump in the car and head back to work. This is because it takes SO FUCKING LONG to warm up food on my stove. I still needed to eat (of course) so I put the food back in it's takeout box and brought it with me in the car.

I sat at a stop light, shoveling my noodles into my pie hole. Then it happens. I hear someone SCREAMING to the left of my car. I look over and it's some frazzled white-haired hippy with a dream catcher hanging from her rearview mirror. She's the one screaming. I don't quite understand what she is saying, but I know she is talking to me. Noodles hanging out of my mouth and into the bowl, I give her a confused look. "WHAT?" I say, as noodles dangle and flecks of food fly from my teeth.

She repeats "YOU'RE MAKING ME HUNGRY!"

Now this is where I start to feel embarrassed. I didnt know anyone was watching me eat. I wasn't trying to eat with class, or with manners, or like someone who doesn't own a microwave. I was just trying to finish my food quickly before I headed back to work! Then this bitch with a "Keep Portland Weird" bumper sticker on the back of her car had to go and comment. NOW I feel awkward. I give her a half noodle smile, tun my head and look forward. OF COURSE this bitch is hungry, she is the reincarnate of raw-corn girl. She's basically raw-corn girl's mom. I bet she is STARVING. She probably doesn't own a microwave either, or does she have time to eat anything but a 10 calorie ear of corn. I hate her. I don't give her eye contact for the rest of the stoplight duration, but I can feel her eyes burning into me, watching me take every little bite. She wants my food. I am MAKING her hungry. She wants me to recognize that she wants my food. Instead I do not look. I wait, and look straight ahead.

The light turns green. We both proceed to take a left turn, except weird hungry lady is too busy looking at my thai takeout and turns into oncoming traffic. I watch her from my mirrors when I notice what she had done. She keeps driving, she doesn't slow down. She keeps driving. She then at the last second slams on her breaks just before SMASHING into a car. and I keep driving. This lady was SO preoccupied with my food that she couldn't even drive straight.

That's what you get for being a fucking hungry moron, HIPPY! Stop eating raw corn and putting corn in your gas tank! Buy a fucking microwave; You're a threat to fucking society.

Come to think of it, she was probably drunk.




pretty accurate.

A three year old's perspective on death:

As we drive past a cemetery, scarlett looks on, puzzled. "That's a cemetery" I tell her. "They bury dead people there."

Scarlett looks and thinks, her brow furrowed and eyes focused, trying to process what I just told her. "Why do they bury dead people?" she finally asks.

"Because, it's just what we do. When people die, they start to stink and fall apart, so we put them in the ground." I tell her.

Scarlett pauses for a few moments more, and then says "I don't want to be buried in the ground when I die. I will get dirty and I will get dirt in my eyes."

I tell her she is probably right, and that she's pretty smart for thinking about things so logically. I tell her she doesn't have to be put in the ground when she dies. Then I explain cremation, which is quite a task to iterate to a young child, but I basically say "It's where dead bodies get burned up and then your ashes get stored in a vase."

Clearly way too close to the beginning of life to think about the end of it, Scarlett stays silent, probably wondering what I could possibly be talking about. I turn up the music again. We continue our car ride to Wal-mart where she runs straight to the Halloween section, and picks out a ghost costume.

Adventures in Bulimia

Once upon a time a young girl sat in her bed, watched Star Wars: A New Hope and munched on delicious Juanitas Tortilla chips. And Oreos. And half a tub of salsa, washed down with some beer and a glass of dr. pepper too. Don't forget the fucking milk with the Oreos, because she does NOT do Oreos without milk.

"HOLY SHIT!" She thought. "My ass is already headed for the hills (or turning into small lumpy mountains, if you will) since I haven't been to the gym in over a month! Instead I have been sitting on my ass, drinking beer and talking shit on Facebook. In fact, I have probably consumed over 1500 calories in the past 30 minutes, and I am STILL kinda hungry! What in the hell happened to my life?! I'd just like to know how a girl like me can get laid when all I do is sit around like Jabba the Hut munching mindlessly like some fatass and not even trying to look good. By the way, is that a fucking salsa stain on my protruding gut? Oh yeah, and cookie crumbs in the bed? forget about it! Don't think I will even change the sheets tonight either, that is WAY too much effort. Much easier to just lay down and weep, since the alarming realization of over-eating-not-so-anonymous is sweeping over me in waves." (She calls this the "sweep and weep", by the way.)

Well, that girl had a thought. A fairly dark, evil thought. A horrid, after-school-special thought. "I COULD probably just throw it up and feel way better about myself" she thought. I mean, she hadn't done it EVER before, so a one time thing would be okay, right? (well, besides after drinking too much alcohol, but that really doesn't get rid of the calories, now does it?) And It's not like she hadn't gagged on plenty of things before, the girl is fairly promiscuous. So that wasn't an issue, right? and REALLY, what is the harm of throwing up just once? Pregnant people throw up like every 5 seconds. AND THEY ARE SUPER FAT. The puking doesn't even HELP them lose weight. Way to fail on everything, breeders. She wasn't going to keep her puke in a container or hide it from her mom or something like in that one movie we all had to watch in health class, so it's okay right? Hmmm.

She just didn't know, should she stay, should she throw?

She threw. That girl took the plunge down her throat with her long bony finger and tossed her chips, salsa and oreos into the kitchen sink. "REALLY A BAD FEELING," she thought as her nose instantly clogged up with mucus, her eyes watered and throat burned like a rotten jalepeno. No amount of water tamed the grossness, but she proceeded to puke again. and again.

...and then old Mother Hubbard's Guttard was bare...but at least she would get boned. She went to bed feeling incred, and woke up a skinny ho.

She probably won't puke up her food again, it was kinda gross.

The End.

PS: Turn to 7:52 if you want a remake of this lovely experience.

Tour de Franzia

Why yes, that IS me in the car. Just a typical Saturday, amirite?

My Mormon Fantasy

Anyone who has talked to me in the past 12 years on the subject knows I have an abnormal obsession with Mormons. I am not myself Mormon, nor is anyone in my family. I did, however, grow up in Utah where I was exposed to more Mormon culture than you can shake a golden plate at. As a child, plenty of my friends were Mormon. My neighbors were Mormon, my town was Mormon, my school was Mormon. Practically everything I did was related within a few degrees of separation from Mormons.

As a result, I was alone on family night mondays, (my family didn't believe in spending time together) I drank homemade root beer at friends houses, had access to about 50 giant trampolines, and had a neighbor with 13 children. I lived in a 9 bedroom house, had polygamists on my block and when I uttered my first swear word in front of my elementary school friends, I think I was excommunicated from a church I knew I could never belong to. (It was actually "FUCK"; I had died on Super Mario Bros. 3. That's a different story, really.) No, I am not making a word of this up. Living the life of a non-Mormon kid in Salt Lake City was not always easy. I was left out of so many things! I didn't get to leave school to go to seminary class across the street, I didn't get a fucking CTR ring, and I didn't get to watch cool shows like "Saturday's Warrior" (Ok, well I DID watch Saturday's Warrior, but I didn't understand it and I still don't fucking understand it.) Yes, life was one of rejection growing up, yet I remained strangely fascinated with the culture.



Seriously though, I love mormons. I even kinda want to seduce one. Especially a mormon missionary on a bicycle. Maybe even two. The other day I was dressing myself up for a night on the town...You know, fishnet thigh highs, short ripped mini skirt, messy sex hair, and 4 inch heels...the typical stuff a hooker wears. (I prefer to call what I wear "hooker-chic" but that's probably just my ego talking.) ANYWAY, I was rushing out the door, my head filled with future fuck-ups and fuck-hims and debauchery all around, when who do you think should approach my stoop but a couple of black-tied, white-shirted, helmet-wearing MORMON MISSIONARY BOYS!!! Not only did I stop in my tracks but my heart stood still as well. They smiled at me, white teeth and blue eyes. Same height, same outfit. Almost identical. Picture those hot twin girls that are on Budweiser commercials, only in Mormon form, and with wieners. And no boobs.

I guess. Nevermind, bad analogy.

ANYWAY, They approach me and ask me about my salvation. Fuck, how can I answer questions like "When was the last time you went to church?" and "Do you think you will go to heaven?" When ALL I can think about is inviting these boys in to make me a sandwich?! How can I take their little postcard with Jesus on it when I want to rip their Mormon underwear off with my teeth and make a dirty gay Madonna-esque video with them?! How can I do ANYTHING but stutter and sweat, since my ultimate sexual fantasy is standing right before me?! I was so close I gave off the smell of perversion and they could see the glimmer of Satan in my eyes!! Fuck, I wanted them so bad. They were talking but I was only looking at their lips. I was smiling but only with nervous, evil intentions. What can I do? How can I get them into my house, onto my bed?! I had to think fast! I opened my mouth, and tried to answer their questions.

That's when I realized the conversation was over, and I had muttered something incoherent and untrue about my faith. (I told them that I went to church, I wanted them to like me!) They must have believed me, despite the fishnets. They turned to walk to the next door, hand-in-holy-hand. Holy bicyclists in a world of heathen Portlanders.

Man, I really messed that one up. And I thought I was charming.

I turned right back inside and rubbed one out. I need to move back to Utah.

Willy Wonka and the Fatty Factory.

I eat like a 300 pound man. This morning My awesome co-worker surprised me with a scrumptious Burger King breakfast. Not only did she bring me those french toast stick thingys (which I like to refer to as "grease sponges"...give 'em a squeeze next time you eat them and you will see why) she also threw in some cinnamon-minis and hashbrown circles. And don't forget the orange juice. I ate it all. 12pm rolled around and because the front desk at my place of employment KNOWS I like to eat, they called back specially to let me know they have doughnuts. HELL YES! I ran to the front desk within seconds to make sure I scored the maple bar.

Last week I ate a box of cookies. In one day. Okay, really over 2 hours. Cut me some slack on that one, some dude I liked had just dumped me. I also had 2 dinners that night. My stomach protruded like I was 5 months pregnant. Gross. Okay, even i admit that was SLIGHTLY overboard.

My dream food is a deep fried twinkie 'longside a cheese-injected hotdog smothered in mustard, relish and ketchup. Don't forget the nachos. Carnival food. That's right mother fucker.

One of my greatest pleasures in life is to eat fast food in my underwear while drunk in my bed, ala David Hasselhoff. Don't hate mother fuckers, I look way better than him in my skivvies:



But don't get me wrong, I don't just love the crap food, I love ALL food. The fancier, the better. I especially love gourmet junk that explodes flavor into my mouth. Yeah, I like that stuff.

The best part is? Fat people HATE ME. You know why? I eat just like them and don't ever gain a pound. YAY I WINS GENETIC LOTTERY. Suck my ass, fatties! I freaking LOVE it when you get mad at me! I work at a gym and nothing gives me more sick pleasure than taking that doughnut from the front desk and walking around eating it in front of all the people who WISH they could eat it, but are far too fat and trying so hard to desperately lose weight. So they watch me, say things like "I wish I could have that!" and I just chuckle and sink my teeth into deep-fried sugar. Then they go home and eat their feelings because some tall lanky skinny hot girl can eat doughnuts all day long and never gain a pound, and they are just fat. You might as well not try, fatties. Food tastes GOOD. I'd rather be fat and fed than fat and starving to death for a doughnut. You're never going to lose weight. Just give up and join me, I'd like you better that way.

Actually, this is a lie. Nothing pisses me off more than a fat-and-proud person. Being gross is nothing to be proud of! The truth of the matter is, you have lost in that part of life, and I have won. BUT that doesn't mean I dont love you, I love hugging fat people. Sooo squishy. And trust me, I have lost in plenty of aspects of life, like being souless enough to write an entry such as this. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some more things I need to go hate on elsewhere besides this blog. And I need to have some lunch.

Nothing a Beer and Seashell can't Fix.

To celebrate my daughter's third birthday, I thought it would be a great idea to take her to the beach. At first I was going to plan some obligated elaborate pizza-play structure party for her, but then i realized the only people who would be at her party would be my friends (since my 3 year old has no friends) and then I realized none of MY friends would like to be at a party without beer and a million children at their knees. And as much as I love kids, I work with upwards of 80 children a day already. There is a tipping point. Not to mention, there is a strong correlation between those pizza places and clowns. And you fuckers all know how i feel about clowns. So, to the beach we went! I recruited my good "mama-friend", kat and her 5 year old daughter. We had a set plan: Hit up Newport, see the free aquarium, then the Ripley's-Wax-Undersea Garden trifecta, and then delicious seafood on the docks, fresh from the ocean. So this morning we got our coffees, and doughnuts, and headed west towards the sea.

The car ride there was not so bad, in fact it was full of optimism. So many words of hope were spoken amongst the mamas and children: "I can't wait to see the diver!" "I'm looking forward to the whale skeleton!" "The octopus is going to be so cool!", "the sky has poop in it!" (that was a quote from Seven, the poop-obsessed 5 year old.) Little did we know the bounds of disappointment that lay ahead! We sped down the overcast freeway, with calls of seagulls in our heads and dreams of bread bowl chowder in our hearts.

We arrived in Newport about 1:00pm. "Hurray!" we all shouted. "Let's go to the museum!" We threw our hands in the air and clapped as we crossed the "strong and industrious" steel and concrete bridge. Seven began to mention something about driving off the bridge and falling to our deaths but we did not let that detour us. I also mentioned that the bridge was comparable to Seven's daddy. I think she agreed. I think Kat might have agreed too. We pulled around the bend and into the aquarium parking lot only to find our first disappointment of the day. A big sign with a pink octopus, mocking us, laughing if you will. "MUSEUM CLOSED TUESDAYS AND WEDNESDAYS."

"FUCK YOU! DAMMIT!" the obscenties run rampant through my head, although they come out as "ah, darn it!"

"What is today?" Seven asks.

"TUESDAY, MUTHERFUCKER! AAARG. BAD FUCKIN DAUGHTER'S BIRTHDAY ASS SHIT FUN RUINED! ARRRG!" or "yeah, it's tuesday."

"No, I mean, is it friday? I want a happy meal."

Kat proceeds to tell yiddle she does not get any Mcdonald's today, instead we are having delicious popcorn shrimp. The thought of popcorn shrimp calms my inner rageathon, and we turn around calmly, and head to out next destination. Oh well, the aquarium is closed, but more fun awaits! The Historic Bayfront equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle! Ripley's! Wax Works! The Undersea Gardens!

We parked and observed our second foreshadowing of the day. The Historic bayfront was torn the fuck up! construction everywhere and the ice cream shop where I once got my period on my white pants was closed down and gone! (I was 13 and it was the 90s, i guess white pants were in.) For fuck's sake! No more ice cream?! I had so many memories at that place. No more popcorn either, just effing great. Oh well.

We avoided some old sea hags and monsters getting in and out of their cars, stepped over some pebbles and finally purchased our tickets. We are told to head to wax works and hurry up because they are replacing the carpet at 3:00. Jesus, way to move us on through. Apparently the whole street is renovating or something. To the Wax Works we headed. Upon entrance we are greeted by an elephant robot or "animatronic." Seven is delighted, Scarlett is hesitant. I knew this was going to be a bad idea. The moment we enter the dark room and see the Michael Jackson replica, I am also scared. Then Seven starts: "MAMA, I WANT DADDY, I HATE THIS, LET'S LEAVE WAAAH" Then Scarlett starts, only in a smaller voice: "mama, let's get out of here, pick me up!"

Really, I do not blame her. There is some scary shit in that place. I know they are only wax but really I kept fantasizing one would come to life and grab me and make me scream. Although it wasn't really a fantasy because I didn't actually WANT that to happen. I didnt want anything to come to life. Especially when I looked into the wax vampire's eyes. I think he creeped me out the most. That or bigfoot. That dude always freaks me out. No, didn't want anything moving. those statues needed to stay put! Unless it was the Johnny Depp wax statue. KIDDING, KIDDING. That guy is a tool. He even came complete with a sign that said "DO NOT TOUCH FACE." Yeah, you would, Johnny Depp. Go make another movie where you play the same character OVER AND OVER why don't ya?!

Anyway, we raced through the wax museum with children wrapped around our necks, and really did not see a whole lot of anything. I was even trying to put on the a brave face. Oh well, Ca-ching.

Of course, after that fiasco, I knew that Ripley's would be similar, only with weirder, scarier things. At one point a rickety mummy opened it's doors and popped out at me. I screamed, Scarlett clinged. Oops. Believe it or Not, I was right! Scare-fest 2010. Ca-ching!

Third stop, was of course the Undersea Gardens. In all my years of vacationing in Newport, I have yet to venture into it's murky depths. Kat warned me at least 3 times before we headed in: "It stinks down there." Truer words have never been spoken. Besides the pungent unclean-fish-poop water smell, the entire basement just felt dirty. Even the diver was dirty. As the show started, he swam around flaunting his fingers in the fluid motion a diver could only do. He fingered the sea anemones like some sort of chronic masturbator. Of course, being the immature pervert I am, I laughed uncontrollably, only to receive stares from the grown-ups around me. My only response to them was "I gotta get me a date with that diver!" He then proceeded to flip the crap around and play with some sort of ancient eel creature, all of it amounting to some sort of case PETA would like to know about. At any rate, it made for a good side-show-circus-ring display.

THEN CAME TIME FOR THE FINALE. THE OCTOPUS. Oh man, I had been waiting for this goodness. Apparently, the WORLD'S OLDEST OCTOPUS lives in the Newport Undersea Gardens. At least that is what their brochure says. Fucking liars. I held my hands in anticipation, waiting to catch a glimpse of those suckers. The underwater soundtrack played, the diver swam around, got his tether caught, and then it was over. "OH well, no octopus today!" the narrator said in her distorted obsolete microphone. And that was it. No fucking octopus.

WHAT THE FUCK. I jusy paid 25 dollars for this piece of shit show and I do not even get to see the star of the show?! I might as well paid to see Metallica and ended up with Winger. Or no band at all. FUCK YOU.

I left the place, starving and infuriated. Oh well, at least next door there was a beautiful restaurant window advertising "FRESH CRAB" and a bay view window, complete with sea lions. We sit down, I order a beer.

"I'll have the crab" Kat says.

"We are out of crab." the waitress says.

"I'll have the bread bowl full of chowder." I say.

"We don't have bread bowls." the waitress says.

WHAT.

I cannot begin to describe the disappointment running through my heart at this point. Just give me my beer already. We reluctantly order the fish and chips and shrimp quesadilla.

The fish and chips arrived after a short period of time, as did the "shrimp quesodilla" The first thing Kat did was pick up a slice of the cheese-and-shrimp combo. The amount of the those pink little baby-toed fucks called shrimp hung down like a 90 year old man's nutsack. That shrimp was packed into the tortilla. Like full of shrimp how a leprechaun's satchel of gold might hang. You get the picture. She took a bite and looked at me in dismal horror. DISMAL HORROR. I took a bite of my 15 fucking dollar fish and chips and it tasted like deep fried water. DEEP FRIED WATER. NASTY MUTHER FUCKER RIPPING ME OFF FOR PEICE OF SHUT NASTY UN-FRESH SEAFOOD BALL LICKER CUNT SACK!

I calmly get up, tell the waitress that it's not her fault, but this is the WORST food of my life. She apologizes, refund our money and we get out of there with the quickness. Ca-ching!!

On our way out of newport we stop to buy the kids stuffed animals, seashells and some ice cream.

Worst Beach Trip Ever! The End.

The Most Action I've Seen all Month:

Coffee creamer never lets me down. Let me also note that the establishment in the background is where I recently got fired. I wonder why?!!

I rilly like u

At the risk of being snickered at, I confess that I participate in online dating. Meh, so what? I kind of like dating people that I normally wouldn't meet, however strange it can be or weird they can get. I am on okcupid and have met a few people from off of there..some of whom can read this! But I kept hearing about this other site called plentyoffish.com, so i took my chances and whored myself out over there in attempts to maybe get laid some time this year. I am pretty sure plentyoffish.com should really be called plentyofilliterateidiots.com. I have received several messages since signing up, you be the judge:

From: Kinslow
Subject: Hi
"U seem rily fun hav u bin to the Shang hi
tunles in P town great the bar is good to
hope to hear from u"


From: Patches15
Subject: Hello Doll
" You may not be a Doctor still bet you can
check me our."


From: IrishOnMonday
Subject: Hi I really liked your profile
"hi im josh, just wanted to say hi. Your profile makes u sound like
a really cool chick, lol. which games do u like to play?

im from tennessee and moved here about 6 yrs ago. I am part irish
and love the color green lol."

(oh you likes the color green? sooo funniez! LOL!!)

From: DichotomousDuck
Subject: Spontaneous?
"Alicia,

Tonight is Friday and it would be
great to have dinner with an
intelligent women.

Dan"


_______

There are more but they are all very similar. Just whet the hell is going on? I can't have sex with these people!!! At least it has entertainment value. :p

Sweet Stache.

Walking in a bar alone can be a strange occurrence. For some reason I try it over and again, like some stupid adventure I keep setting out on. I always think I will meet a man, sitting alone, waiting for me to walk up to talk to him. He’s got dark shaggy hair and just moved here or something. We meet, get drunk together and ride off on a rainbow unicorn into the sunset. Well, shit like that never happens in my life. I really need to get off my Indiana Fucking Jones’ kick and stop expecting to find true love while alone in a stupid well-lit suburban bar at 1am. It ain’t the Temple of Doom and the sexy people ain’t interested! Do you know why? Sexy people don’t go to the bar alone looking for love! They go to bars with friends and dates. Sexy people are rarely alone. Except me. I am the exception here. Maybe I am not as good looking as I think.

No, that’s impossible.

I digress. So this hot chick walks into a bar (me) and sits down. She orders a vodka-cranberry, and checks out the scene: lots of drunk people. Pool tables. Loud caterwaul dance music. You know, typical bar shit. A small unattractive man sitting next to her appears to be alone, but he is next to her, so she strikes up a conversation. Why not, right? She had been drinking enough that night to where it hardly mattered.

Her: “How’s it going?”

Him: “Going good. I’m drunk.”

Her: “Drunk in a bar? Irony at it’s finest.”

Him: “Huh?”

Her: “Nevermind. Is that karaoke I hear in the next room?”

Him: “I don’t know. Maybe……Yeah, I think it is.”

Her: “Awesome. I love karaoke.”

Him: “So, do you come in here a lot?”

Her: “No. I was with some friends but decided to go home early, changed my mind and went out again. What about you?”

Him: “No. I never come here. I was just driving home from work and decided to stop in.”

Her: “Oh, where do you live?”

Him: “Forest Grove.”

Her: “Where do you work?”

Him: “Forest Grove.”

Her: “So you came 20 miles out of your way to stop at this bar?”

Him: “Yup.”

Her: “And you work and live in the same town?”

Him: “Yup.”

Her: “So why didn’t you go to a bar in Forest Grove?”

Him: “I told you, I stopped on the way home from work!”

Her: “Huh. That’s weird.”

*long pause*

Him: “Hey, can I ask you something?”

Her: “Sure, go ahead.”

Him: “It’s kind of personal, but I am totally serious, alright? What do you think of my mustache?”

Her: “Uhh…sweet stache dude. I will be back, I need to go smoke.”

From that point, she leaves the bar, gets in her car and drives away. Creeped out. What the hell is she doing, talking to a Steve Buscemi look alike! (who is just as unattractive, but not as cool, i might add.) And why does he look like he is 45 when he is in his 20s? Oh yeah. A MUSTACHE. Seriously, guys. If you want to creep out a girl, grow a some rapist facial hair and then walk around asking strangers what they think about it. Sheesh! Needless to say, she went home alone, saddened and looking over her shoulder in fear of long blonde lip hair.

Things rarely work out for me when I travel solo.

Send Him to the Fiery Pits Whence he Came!

Last night, around 12:20am, after a mild evening of a few drinks a socialization, I walked into the door of my house and set to prepare myself for bed. I dressed into my jammies, pulled my hair up, and walked into the bathroom to do the unmentionable things one does in a bathroom before bed.

Then I saw HIM. Dark and hairy, large meaty legs and body, and an estimated size of about 2.5 inches in diameter! He struck fear into my cheerily heart as I looked into his eight blinking eyes, all of them focused on ME. I knew he was going to attack if I took one step closer, so I grabbed my toiletries and raced to the other bathroom before he could sink his teeth into me. I shut off the light and locked him in his den of evil deeds, a den right next to my bedroom no less! Could it be true? Did my eyes deceive me? Did I have one too many? No, what I saw was accurate. It was the biggest effing spider I have EVER SEEN IN MY HOUSE, EVER.

After a few rounds of texts to the brave people in my life to calm me down, I dozed off to sleep, never forgetting the beast who was now spinning webs in the corners of my mind. Like an arachnid version of Freddy, he invaded my dreams and left me tossing and turning and sleeping in a fearful state.

This morning after a quick check in my bed to make sure the fowl creature had not try to lay with me, I raced into my bathroom to confront the spawn head-on. I held a lust for spider blood in my heart, he must die!!! I opened the door, and....

Gone. He was fucking gone! ....At least gone from my sight. But we all know when spiders disappear, it isnt because they have left the building. They are notorious hiders. They like to lurk in the dark damp forgotten corners of households, watching and haunting their future human prey. Do you know why they prefer the dark, my friends? Because evil deeds are carried out smoothly in the dark! No one with normal god-given eyes can see what they are doing! The foul blood suckers! Those unnatural creatures of HELL! I hate them all! And last night I was face-to-face with the king pin of spiders! The godfather of the spider family! The biggest web-spinner of them all! And I couldn't kill him. I was too afraid.

Don't judge me. You know not the magnitude of this creature until you have seen him for yourself. After a few moments of research on the internet from "people" who study and love these things (obviously shape-shifters, no real human being could actually LIKE a spider) I have discovered that my only enemy could be one of two species:

Exhibit A: Tegenaria duellica - Giant House Spider





http://bugguide.net/node/view/31449

OR, Exhibit B: Tegenaria agrestis - Hobo Spider





http://bugguide.net/node/view/31446

Does it matter which of these giants I actually saw? Nay, my dear readers. For today is the day that MAN WILL CONQUER ONCE AGAIN. I know of an amazing poison that will ensure the next time I see this hairy abomination, he will be dead. I am setting on a quest to that of "Home Depot" to obtain such a potion, and I will WIN THIS COLD WAR.

The only good spider is a dead spider. Godspeed!

Dear Diary

Yesterday I went to rose festival with my beau, we rode white knuckle death-trap rides of doom. Of course, when we headed to "Zero Gravity" (the ride which spins you around so fast you stick to the wall and then lifts on its side, no seatbelts needed!) , the lovely sam proceeded to point out that the ride shouldnt be called "Zero gravity", because in fact the ride is actually CREATING gravity with its centrifugal force. Leave it to my little astronaut to give me a science lesson aka "why carnies shouldn't name rides"

Dude! it's too bad I am not a science teacher, that kind of would be a cool science lesson.

ah, sam. you are the dark flow of my heart.

we also went on rusted swings of death. let us never speak of them again. I hate ferris wheels. they are neither romantic nor relaxing.

Apparently this Dude's Brain is Lucid.

Some asshole customer asked me what "lucid" means last night. I use the word all the time, but I had to sit there for a minute to come up with a definition. Finally I came up with a synonym, "translucent." I smiled, proud of myself for coming up with a word that I felt best described the other, and looked at him for recognition.

Dude gave the a look like I was the dumbest human being on the planet. He blankly stared at me and was like "well I guess I can find out later, it doesn't matter anyway." He gave me a $4 tip and walked out of my life, but not out of my head!

umm hello asshole! I just told you what it means! Come back here! I'm not stupid, right? Or am I? All night it drove me crazy. I'm not THAT stupid, am I?! Did I just give this guy an incorrect estimation of word trivia?! It boiled and turmoiled in my mind; all through the night I rolled around with nightmares of dictionaries being hurled at my head by this asshole customer. "TAKE THAT, DUMB WAITRESS! HOW COULD I EXPECT SUCH A FEEBLE MINDED GIRL WORKING SUCH A HORRIBLE JOB TO KNOW ANYTHING!"

So I woke up today and looked it up first thing:

Copy and paste from translucent:

2. easily understandable; LUCID: a translucent explication.

Copy and paste from lucid:

Easily understood; intelligible.
Mentally sound; sane or rational.
Translucent or transparent.

take that, asshole! I was right. GAWD!

buggaboo VS. boogerboo -OR- Insane in the mucus membrane!

Hello dearest faithful readers!

As of this moment, I am sitting in the dark with my coat on, with a snot rag twisted and shoved up my nose, and desperately trying to push my mind out of "sickly."

I have to work all night tonight, and I pray to the dayquil gods they will bestow a quick recovery with their shiny orange geltabs. If they dont, I will either be taking orders with a faucet nose, or a snot rag hanging in front of my face. Which would you prefer? Would you like some of my snot as a dipping sauce for your fries? I have plenty! No, I am not staring at you strangely because your are a 60 year old man asking for my phone number, that's merely a sinus headache! Normally i LOVE getting dirty old men asking me for dates. Just leave me a big tip please so I can afford more meds. I'd be happy to get you some extra napkins, do you mind if I wipe my wet, red, crusty nose on one of them first? Another milkshake? SURE NO PROBLEM. Would you like snot-banana or boogers and chocolate?

Ok, really though. I wish I could sleep tonight. Yesterday at work I had a sneeze attack of at least 10 in a row. That was like being shot in the face....with bullets. Man, the things I do for money.

At least I am not as bad as scarlett, she has coughed so hard that she puked on 3 occasions. Poor little bugger.

Shirt Poppin'

Check out this video: Shirt Poppin

Hobo Express

ahhh work was so dead last night. I only made like 60 bucks in tips. For an hour and a half I did the jumble, crossword, word search and soduku in the newspaper. At 4am, I was the only one in the restaurant (besides the cook in the back) and I just happen to look out the window for the 50th time that minute and what should I see but a cop car pulling up. I think "YAY the cops are coming in to eat!" and get i prepared to give my own table a fabulous 4am dining experience. Not to mention, I really love men in uniform so I try to fix myself up a little.

a short amount of time passes, and no cops come in. So I go back to my jumble. I get all involved in it for a minute, and next time I look up, my heart literally JUMPS out of my chest because some creepy old bum is standing at the counter!! He is hella dirty and has no teeth and is jingling some change around. he looks just like the prophet from big love, if you have seen that show...except imagine the prophet without teeth, a shave or a shower, and in a dirty flannel shirt. "The cops just dropped me off here" he says. "I'll have some coffee and oatmeal" he says.

okay, so i figure if the cops were nice enough to let him go, he is probably a nuisance, but harmless...right? Anyway, he sits in the back of the store for 30 minutes before anyone else comes in. I am avoiding this dude like crazy, I didnt care! He gave me a really bad vibe. PROBABLY because yesterday I had a lecture from my mom about how working graveyard alone in a restaurant is dangerous and I should find another job. My mom always has to plant the seed of fear!

Anyway, some super hot buff black guy comes in and i feel safe for awhile, cuz I know this dude is a gentleman and would kick anyones ass, from how pumped he is. Another regular comes in and I chat him up for awhile and I just continue to ignore the bum in the back. The bum gets up to go to the bathroom, and is gone for like 15 minutes....probably either pooping or shooting up. then he goes and sits at ANOTHER table and starts STARING AT ME and the regular I am having a conversation with. I am really freaked out by him at this point.

Finally around 5:20am, he gets up and comes to the counter to pay. I tell him his total is $8.50 or something close to that number. He proceeds to put $3.60 down on the counter and slides it in my direction. So I say "okay, it looks like you have about 3 dollars and 60 cents here. Your total is over $8. do you have any more money?" he shakes his head. SOOO I have no idea what to do at this point. I could just let him go, but then his bill would come out of MY pocket, and I totally dont want to do that. I refuse to do that actually, haha. So I tell him to go have a
seat and wait until my replacement arrives.

i wait and wait and wait. i talk to the cook for a minute about how I want to go and get away from this bum. the bum is just sleepin in the booth at this
point.

So, lisa F finally arrives about 20 minutes late. I explain to her the situation. She rolls her eyes and the dude and immediatley storms over there and proceeds to rip this guy a new asshole. "EXCUSE ME SIR, SIT UP, THIS IS A RESTAURANT, NOT A HOTEL. YOU CAN'T SLEEP HERE. YOU DONT HAVE ANY MONEY TO PAY? HOW DID YOU THINK YOU CAN ORDER FOOD WHEN YOU DONT HAVE MONEY! I COULD CALL THE COPS RIGHT NOW! YOU KKNOW YOUR SERVER HAS TO PAY FOR THE FOOD YOU CANT PAY FOR? SHE WORKS HARD FOR HER MONEY. DO YOU WORK FOR MONEY? YOU NEED TO APOLOGIZE TO HER RIGHT NOW AND THANK HER FOR PAYING FOR YOUR FOOD. YOU NEED TO LEAVE AND NEVER COME BACK. etc etc etc. it was so awesome. she was my hero because she wasnt afraid of the dude at all. haha. But the again she is like twice my size, has shoulders like a linebacker, and looks like she could take anyone down. Anyway she 86'ed his ass from the store and then had the cook escort me to my car to make sure he wasnt waiting for me out in the bushes or something.

and that was the eventful part of my night. I have some more stories from other
nights too. you meet the the weirdest fuckers working graveyard.

Two by Four

hello there, so we meet again.

It has been awhile since I posted a blog, and since everyone admires me for my blog posting skills, I figured I wouldnt leave you hangin on this fine winter's eve.

I just ate a plate of nachos for two all by myself. I havent eaten all day today. Actually, that is a complete farce, I had subway and BURGER KING AND NACHOS. And that's it. I am a total liar, i have no idea why i said i had nothing. No wonder I looked at a $5 scale at ikea and then promptly put it back on the shelf when I saw the insulting number it gave me. hmph! I think ikea better examine it's merchandise before it wrecks itself! or before i throw it's cheap five dollar scale across the room for laughing at me! okay, it didnt laugh, but it should have. Oh well, more cushin for the pushin right? I mean I check my butt out in the mirror every day, and it still looks pretty good. Sometimes I grab my own butt too, just to see how good it would feel to be the lucky person who ever grabs my awesome butt. Yeah. Well. hopefully I can hang on to my assets. Maybe I should lay off the nachos and chicken nuggets. But I am feeling especially unmotivated to make good food lately. I think it is because I am distracted by other things. Although I did have a salad at work yesterday. covered in dressing. smothered, really. Did you guys know how fattening the red robin honey mustard is? I think its like 36 grams of fat per TWO TABLESPOONS or some shit. now that is what I call a good time. Sometimes I wish I could be smothered in that shit and have it licked off. Yeah, honey mustard baby. Maybe I could lick it off myself. I would be like jabba the hut, rollin around in honey mustard, slowly gettin fatter. Dude, that would be hot.

ps. did you know i can play the 1812 overture with my butt? farts! it's a talent that shouldnt be hidden any longer.

okay then, I am drunk and need to get up early. good night, assholes!

No Wire Hangers

i was going through some of scarlett's old things and I found a 6 month old sleeper that she wore when she was 3 months old. I did a total psycho mom thing and held it up to my shoulder like how i used to hold her, just to remember how small she used to be. Then I bawled like a sentimental baby and tried to hug scarlett but she ran away because she was too busy playing.

she's so big. :(

SECRET CONFESSION OF THE DAY

When I was little I used to fantasize that one day I would meet prince william and he would fall madly in love with me and then I would be a princess, and then a queen. And that I would be willing to look past the fact he is so hideous because I would have the attention of the world. I mean we would only have to consummate once, right? And after that, TOTAL GLOBAL DOMINATION. AND I WOULD BE A FUCKING PRINCESS. and everyone would be like "dayum! alicia is so much hotter than prince william! It's so evident that she married him for his princely status!" Fuck that would be rad. I guess I wouldn't be able to say "fuck" anymore, huh? lame.

Oh wait, but I guess I would probably have to fuck him more than once because we would need to make an heir for the throne. Hrm. Well, it is a small sacrifice to make...I wonder if they have a royal paper bag to put over his head? Then maybe I could cut out a picture of ewan mcgregor or elijah wood or cillian murphy and paste it on the bag so then I could pretend I was making love to them instead. I mean they HAVE to have a royal bag, right? Charles is so fucking hideous, I KNOW diana had to concoct something like a plush purple velvety diamond encrusted bag to put over charles' head. I will just have to inquire about that. But then again, william is all powerful and stuff so maybe I could just get off on that. I mean I am sure I could. I know i could! Yayer. I could probably write a really persuasive letter to the queen, telling her why I am the SHIT. Once I get in with her, I am golden, right? Then all I have to do is bump her off, which will be hella easy since she is so old anyway. Just a lil push down the royal stairs and her royal hip will be royally fucked. Then I will hold her hand while she slips away, and she will love me.

huh. but I wonder what would happen to scarlett? I guess she would be like a lady in waiting or something since she doesnt REALLY have any royal blood. That's not very nice. I mean, my grandpa was in the senate, so that KINDA makes her like royalty, right? Maybe I could set her up with a duke or something. or a knight. No, a duke sounds better. I would have to watch her from afar because I am too busy attending to my royal duties and beheading people. But the heir i produce will be hella jealous because there is NO WAY I could make a good lookin' kid with william. I mean I know I am ridiculously good looking, but I just dont know if my good looks can overpower the wretched bad looks of the royal family. Scarlett will be like the gorgeous lady-in-waiting that my hideous heir is hella jealous of. And my heir will go out of her way to make scarlett's life miserable until the prince of poland sweeps her off of her half-polish feet.

i am not making this up! Actually, I still kinda daydream about it. HA. Except I saw this documentary on the royal family once and it looked like they have horrible structured lives, like all they do is go to cememonies all day and shake people's hands. so I am glad this is never REALLY gonna happen. OR IS IT?

Regicide anyone?

I think I read too much Phillipa Gregory for my own good.

Cabin Fever. Yeah, I got that.

Not much you can do with cabin fever; the best cure I have found is to nurse it with a little fire in the belly and a little smoke in the lungs. Yeah, and cheese fries. I managed to leave the house today to get groceries, thanks to the loving 4 wheels of my parental units. Thank god I bought potatoes, they are the only thing that sustain me during these hard cold winters. Maybe santa will bring me some fucking sunshine for Christmas. Or a city-sized blow dryer...Or maybe a little sanity, that might be nice!

Time to sink into oblivion with 100 anos. How fitting since I have been locked in this god forsaken hell hole for 100 anos as well. Huh. It's like the fucking devil's way of laughing at me or something. Am I in hell? I BET I AM! Oh my god, hell is a place where it never stops snowing and where the booze bottles mock you! Fuck, who would have thought?

It's supposed to snow again on Christmas eve. Fuck you, earth. Give me back that fucking recyclable material, I am going to litter the fuck out of the ground! eat shit, earth! Bring on the nukes and the carbon dioxide! If you keep shoving this fucking snow in my face I am going to buy bottled water just to wash my hands and clean my butt, and then I am throwing the bottle along with 50 used mattresses into the ocean! you fuck! Not to mention I am going to clean my butt with the mattresses and I am going to get ten hundred thousand cows to fart all at once too! Take that, you rain forest loving planet! Maybe I will contribute to their demise too!! MAYBE I WILL ALWAYS CHOOSE PLASTIC BAGS AT THE GROCERY STORE AND THEN THROW THEM AWAY, BUT NOT BEFORE WRAPPING THEM AROUND A SEAGULL'S HEAD FIRST. Oh yeah, and those plastic soda can rings? NOT CUTTING THEM ANYMORE. This means war! STOP SNOWING NOW BEFORE I DO SOMETHING RECKLESS AND DESTROY YOU. What kind of a dumb name is EARTH anyway? YOU KNOW THAT YOU ARE JUST FUCKING JEALOUS OF JUPITER AND IT'S AWESOME MOONS AND STORM AND SIZE. You wish you were a gas giant, you fuck. Well I have news for you, your fucking molten magma aint got shit on the destruction I am going to do if you dont cut out the fucking crap!

FUCK THE WHALES.

Santa is coming to town...holy crap!

Everyone around me is FREAKING OUT. So I would like to send them these things to help calm them down. I think they will make good Christmas gifts. Everyone deserves:

-Valium
-Frontal Lobotomies
-Bottles in front of me
-Larynx Removal
-A Nice Hot Bubble Bath
-A Restraining Order
- Lips sewn shut
-Text messaging disabled
-Both legs disabled
-A nice vacation to an asylum
-complete with straight jacket
-more holiday cheer that you can shake a stick at
-A nice sack of journals so everyone can write their problems with me in them. Then I will send them to the moon to the space colony up there can read them and not me!! Maybe the moonmen will read the journals and their minds will completely be blown. It will be the most tragic story they have ever read! So the journals will get published at that point, and my story will be famous amongst all moon people. Then everyone who wrote in those journals will receive lots of cash royalties and then I will get thank you notes instead of death wishes on a daily basis.
-a therapeutic massage with a happy ending
-a chance to win fabulous prizes as the next contestant on Price is Right
-a sledge hammer to the head.
-A nice love making session from Santa himself!
-Death. sweet, calming death.

I am sure all of these gifts and more will calm down the people I love most, don't you agree? They all deserve these things and more. Maybe I will get everyone around a happy Christmas fire and shove them all in it, one by one. Or maybe I will slip a mickey in the delicious eggnog. Or cyanide in the pumpkin pie. There are so many ways to kill them all!!!!! Then me and Scarlett will live happily ever after. The end.

Duck Duck Goose

Hurray! It is nice and sunny out today, I am going to take Scarlett on a nature walk shortly. We have these super gigantic and ferocious geese that live in our neighborhood that Scarlett likes to go look at. They walk around like they own the place, with the intent to litter the streets with feces, hiss at protective mothers and delight toddlers who do not know any better. Well, they probably were here before this subdivision was built, so i guess that is fair. But they are still jerks! Case in point:

http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3001/2556529988_43752e25e6.jpg?v=0

This was taken last spring, so imagine all those babies full grown by now. This is right outside my house. They like to take morning strolls like any other creature, except they have no manners. What the fuck, aren't geese supposed to MIGRATE? Get a move on, assholes! It's November! I hope Jen the Californian Bird Lady reads this so maybe she can come up with a special goose call to draw them closer to her and away from me! Although, a delicious Thanksgiving goose sounds quite tempting right about now. Imagine how much meat one of them fuckers would provide. I should train my cats to perform a sweet synchronized attack on one of them. Lola would tempt one of them with her innocent demeanor and sexy saunter, Guapo would perform a vicious surprise attack from behind and Millie would go in for the kill at the neck. Millie has brought home some big birds on my stoop before, but she would deserve a lifetime achievement award if she brought me a Thanksgiving goose. Maybe that is too much pressure to put on a cat. I do not want to stress her out. Maybe I should just go get a gun and shoot them myself! It would be like Duck Hunt, only way cooler because I wouldn't have an annoying jackass of a dog laughing at me every time i missed. I would be willing to step over some bloody carcases for a couple of weeks if it meant I didn't have to risk ruining my shoes every time i went outdoors. I think that if I killed them all that my neighbors would probably throw me a parade, and carry me around the block on their shoulders. We could build a big bon fire and burn them all, right next to their former wetland home, and perform celebratory ritualistic dances into the night. That would be awesome!

Okay, not really. I actually kinda like the geese.