Friday, July 23, 2010

Working from home, or getting paid to watch the Game Show Network? Also, blowjobs and metaphysical crap

My office is getting a new paint job (not as fun as a blow job, but about as messy) and new carpet this weekend and the first part of the week next week. I spent all day yesterday packing, moving boxes, moving furniture, labeling, lifting things over my head, and wish works comp could kick in ASAP (but that would require me to get hurt first, so... never mind). The state of my office is currently this:

The actual state of my office is usually just as cluttered, but more in a metaphysical way... (I don't actually know what metaphysical means, and when I googled it I only got far enough in the definition to know that it's something about philosophy and it's not easily defined. I figured that was close enough and went with it. Frankly, I'm surprised you're still reading this fine piece of literature at all).

So... there will be some magical men who come into the office this weekend to paint (NOT give blow jobs... at least not that I'm aware of), then on Monday and Tuesday, different magical men will come to lay carpet (giggity). I have no idea how they are going to do this. But what I DO know is that I get to work from home on Monday and Tuesday. So... my question remains:

Am I getting paid to work or am I getting paid to watch Game Show Network?

I'll be sure to let you know.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Things I Want That You Should Buy Me

From time to time I will be posting things that I want, but can't justifying buying for myself. Therefore, I will be posting them here, hoping and praying and holding my breath that YOU will buy it for me. There will be cheap things, expensive things, out of reach things and possibly fake things (don't you DARE include unicorns with fake things... THEY ARE REAL!).

You might also want to purchase some of these things... and if you actually end up buying them, I would really appreciate it if you would buy two and give me one. Why? Because I'm awesome, of course!

First on my list, are these amazing vases that will help me make more friends. Okay, it doesn't actually SAY that on the description, but I'm pretty sure if I had these at my house, people would want to come over. Oh, and when you buy them for me, please also include a tablecloth, a pretty one, because I think you need a tablecloth to trick everyone into thinking you have floating vases.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Celine Dion, Pictures in Port-a-Potties and ME!

It seems I've taken a bit of a hiatus recently... I promise not to do that very often. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. Please come back! Jack! Come back! Jaaaaaack! (insert Celine Dion music here)

Just to keep you up to date, some things I've done (and haven't done) while I haven't been blogging (and because I feel the need to use bullet points whenever possible): I...
  • Marched in the 4th of July Parade, carried the Arizona flag, and did NOT have anything thrown at me over the AZ immigration law
  • Went to Tahoe and rode 20+ miles on a bike over two days (this is good for me)
  • Due to the above mileage, I bruised my taint on the damn bike seat
  • Was convinced to join Weight Watchers (possibly because 20+ miles on a bike was considered to be pretty awesome)
  • Have NOT attended a Weight Watchers meeting yet
  • But HAVE looked at buying a food scale
  • Have NOT bought the food scale
  • Am rethinking why I just brewed beer if I'm going to join Weight Watchers and will not be allowed to drink any of it. Assholes.
  • Finally got motivated to fix the array of random crap that is wrong with my car (and have agreed to hand over my first-born as payment)
  • Wore a very short, low-cut dress to the dealer to try and get a deal on the work being done (did not work) (maybe it will work better after Weight Watchers actually starts) (also, if it's called a "dealer" why don't they actually cut DEALS? They should be called "Screwers" or "We Don't Actually Care About Keeping You Happy/Fed/Clothed/Sheltered")
  • Ordered an iPhone 4
  • Found out they are SUPER back-ordered and don't actually work that well. Damn.
 So... the sun finally came out. It's almost the middle of July and June Gloom has finally left us. Took long enough. It's supposed to be 100 degrees for the rest of the week. And that's the forecast for the area NEAR THE OCEAN. I plan to drink a lot. And also have some water. However, the unexpected visit of Mr. Sunshine has me in a particularly wonderful mood. It's like I've found my rainbow. The Lovers, The Dreamers, and Me. There's no leprechaun though. Double Damn.

As promised, here is the pic of me in the porta-a-potty at Country Jam... please keep in mind that at this time, I had already been drinking for 4 straight days, have been shitting in these very same port-a-potties for the same amount of time, and have also been camping, in a tent, with two other girls.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

You Look Like a Girl Who Can Take Care of Herself

"I'd tell you to watch out for that guy over there, but you look like a girl who can take care of herself."

What. The. Fuck. Does. That. Mean.?

I'm not a cage fighter. I'm not a stick figure. I'm healthy, yes. Black guys love my ass (true story). But I'm also not a pie-eating, couch surfing Midwesterner (no offense to any of the above).

My question is: when someone says that "you look like a girl who can take care of herself" ... what exactly does that mean? Does it mean you look like a bitch? You look tough? You look confident? You look like you really know how to flick the bean? I need some clarification so I know if I should go beat this person's ass or not.

Friday, July 2, 2010

Happy 'Merika Weekend!

I loooooove me some American pride. I cry during the Star Spangled Banner, I get chills whenever there's a fly-by, and celebrating the birth of our fine nation is one of my favorite holidays. I am an all-American girl from a small town who knows how to shoot a gun, flies a flag outside her apartment and will spend more time at the monuments in Washington, DC than at the bars. The sad part is, most people would jump to the conclusion that I am a redneck, white trash, a card-carrying member of the NRA (and since when would that be a BAD thing?)... rest assured, I am none of those things. In fact, I'm pretty classy y'all. I sail. I'm a member of the Yacht Club. I've been out of the country more than most (and not just to Canada and Mexico). I live in Santa-Fucking-Barbara for Pete's sake.

But I digress...

Somehow, I have managed to get myself a spot in the 4th of July parade. I will be carrying the Arizona flag down the main drag in Santa Barbara before jetting off to two BBQs and some fireworks. How these things happen I have no idea. It's probably because I'm awesome.

I just want everyone to take pause this weekend, think about why most of us get an extra day off of work, why we allow ourselves to stuff our faces with pig-parts no one wants to think about and the wonders of barely and hops. Happy Birthday 'Merika! Thank you for being you!

Thursday, July 1, 2010

The Crazy Bench

There's a bench across the street from my office where all the homeless people camp out to sing, preach, beg and play instruments. However, they all seriously suck at playing their instrument of choice. I mean, you're homeless, there's no place for you to go, no house for you to clean, no one to pick up from school or camp or practice, (and let's face it, I'm pretty sure your to-do list isn't very long... 1.Eat 2.Beg 3.Sleep 4.Repeat)<---I'm fucking Dr. Suess over here... (I mean, not actually fucking Dr. Suess because he's dead, I'm pretty sure, and it would be gross to fuck a dead guy, I just mean that I'm awesome at rhyming) the least you could do is learn how to play your ONE instrument decently. Is it too much to ask?!

Anywhoo... I work on the second floor, and when I look out my window and across the street, this is what I see. Today at work, I went crazy. Crazy like goofy, hyper, annoying and needy. So I decided instead of risking my career, I'd go join the crazy people on the bench for a bit. However, I got out there, and no one was there.

I know, totally not a flattering picture, but I have a point here...

Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
"What the FUCK is up with her hand?!" I decided the crazies were channeling my hand and took it over.

In the end, the bench worked. After 5 minutes I moved from the sun to the shade, then 15 minutes later I stood up, leaving the crazies behind, and headed back up to the office. So maybe it's not the homeless' fault that they are crazy. Maybe they catch it from the bench (I left my crazy there, so someone's bound to pick it up, right?), maybe it's the bench's fault.

Aw, who are we kidding, homeless people suck.