Monday, January 30, 2017

Grab Politics by the Pussy

I have started this blog at least five times.

And by five, I mean ten. At least ten.

And I keep hitting delete because I don't want to fight with my friends. And because I know that we don't all agree. And because I know I feel passionately about the issue, and so do some of them. And actually also because it annoys me that some of them don't feel passionately about the issue; I find it annoying that anyone can be choosing to "stay out of it" at this point.

But mostly because when I even see on Facebook that someone I know "liked" any pro-Trump article, meme, ecard, quote, it infuriates me. When I see that I have mutual friends with the Donald J. Trump Facebook page, I want to literally barf.

I never realized that I could lose friends over politics.

Taking a step back, I never realized that I cared enough about politics to surrender friendships. That seems so insane! I have never even cared about politics. I've barely ever even voted. I don't read or research or watch the news. I don't know facts or stats, and I have never really bothered to find out. So the thought that I could be willing to go head to head, blow for blow, with my own friends...I found really baffling.

Until I started thinking about it.

This is not about winning and losing, by the way. This is not about Clinton versus Trump. This is not my bruised ego or my frustration over my candidate losing the election. I am not a liberal crybaby who needs to be coddled. I am not a Hillary fanatic who can't get the loss out of my head. It's not about any of that. 

This is not about anything other than clear right and wrong.

I would never terminate relationships in my life over a fair, routine, well-run, fair-fought election where I voted for Clinton and my friends voted for Trump. I didn't end any relationships when I voted for Kerry and my friends voted for Bush. I didn't fight with them or get into heated debates, and I didn't look at their Facebook MySpace posts and find myself appalled that I was friends with them.

I would never terminate relationships in my life over a regular election, where both candidates were normal, sane, level headed humans with the best interest of the country in mind in their campaign.

This year has proven, though, that I will terminate relationships in my life when they support insane, evil, horrid rotten candidates, and when they continue to support evil, horrid rotten elected presidents.

Donald Trump is not a normal, sane, level headed human.
Donald Trump does not have the country's best interest in mind.
Donald Trump is evil.
Donald Trump is a horrid rotten president, and he was a horrid rotten candidate.

Donald Trump has only been the president for 11 days. ELEVEN. And in those 11 days, he has signed more executive orders than I can count. He has fired people because they speak out against his insane policy. He has promised his Supreme Court selection will fight to overturn Roe V. Wade. He has separated immigrants from their families, and he's attempted to ban refugees, which is a violation of our Constitution. He has placed unqualified, inept fools in cabinet positions they cannot possibly do well in. He has gone to war with the media.

He has done so much fucked up shit in the past week and a half, I can't even remember all of it to list! He has behaved so poorly, isolated so many people, so many groups, he has proven so loudly that he is an unfit, idiotic, narcissistic maniac, that I literally cannot read the news fast enough to know what I am protesting anymore!

In only 11 days, Donald Trump has managed to take steps backwards for women. For minorities. For healthcare. For immigration. For refugees. For our safety in this country. For the LGBTQ community. For education. For homeland security. For the environment. For national parks. For science. For LITERALLY EVERYFUCKINGTHING!!!

In his first 11 days, an entire gender has shown up to protest Trump's misogyny, in groups of hundreds of thousands of people. On all seven continents, I might add. In his first 11 days, we've shown up to protest Trump's unconstitutional immigration ban at airports across the country. In his first 11 days, Donald Trump is already being sued by individual states who can see that his bull shit is not only deplorable and unethical, but absolutely illegal.

I never thought I could lose friends because of politics. I really never did. I am a very left-leaning liberal, and I have very liberal views - but I have never unfriended anyone (on Facebook or in real life) for being pro-life, or for being conservative, or for leaning right. I've always been passionate about my pro-choice platform, but other than that I don't tend to stand up and fight on political issues.

But I showed up with 500,000 of my closest friends in the pouring rain on Trump's first full day in office, donning pink knee high socks and purple shorts and my "pussy grabs back" hoodie, carrying signs I made for my group, screaming chants - because I finally found reason to stand up and fight.

I hope to God that at some point in the past 11 days with this egomaniac in office, you have found a reason of your own to stand up and fight. A reason to make a sign. A reason to stop and think. I hope that in the past 11 days, you have been able to stop seeing this as a Hillary versus Trump, democrat versus republican battle, because that is not what this is. This is not me against you, or us against them. This fight is our country against a maniacal would-be dictator. If you've not found any single thing that Trump has done in the past 11 days that you find to be so unforgivably wrong that you need to scream it from the rooftops and show up somewhere to protest the insanity, then there is something seriously wrong with you.

If you voted for Trump because you thought he had good business ideas, fine.
If you voted for him because you support tougher laws on immigration, or stricter policies for homeland security, fine.\If you voted for him because you really believed he could create jobs and do right by the middle class, fine.
If you voted for him because you hate Hillary, fine.

If you voted for him because he said pussy on TV, called Clinton a nasty woman, and used the term 'bad hombre' in a debate, I mean...I guess, fine. Gross, childish, and idiotic...but fine.

But if you voted for Trump (whatever your reason) and you're still genuinely supporting him and his policies now - after these shameful, vile, illegal and disgraceful first 11 days as president, I no longer have any respect for you.

As a friend.
As a person.
And quite seriously, as an American.


Sunday, January 8, 2017

Did You Know Fat-Shaming Makes You Fat?

At this time every year, gyms everywhere flood with "resolutioners" - the people who promise themselves every January to get in shape, lose weight, bulk up, move more, blah, blah, blah. It annoys everyone who goes to the gym regularly all year long. They pop up on Facebook complaining about the gym being crowded, the parking lot being crowded, and people in their way who don't know what they're doing.

The biggest complaint is that, come February, these people will have disappeared anyway, so just stop wasting all this time in January. Get out of the way and let me do my work out.

And then there are the extremists, who secretly video tape and then publicly fat shame, the people who are suuuuuuuch ass holes, taking up all the time, energy, air, and space in the gym. We have all seen these videos on Snap Chat, Instagram, and Facebook - one of your friends sees someone using equipment wrong, moving slowly, even showering and/or changing clothes in the locker room.


First, let it be known that if I saw a stranger videotaping me IN THE SHOWER in a locker room, their gym rat ass would be in jail.

But that's not the point of this blog.

My point is, people have a hard enough time getting to the gym - especially if they are new - without having to be fearful of the long-time fitness gurus standing behind them with a camera, or even just standing behind them, being judgmental as fuck.

Argument from Arrogant Gym-Goers #1: These people are only here to get in my way for a month; they're not serious and won't even be here next just go away now.

What if 2017 is the year that they DO become serious? What if this year, they are committed to their health and fitness, and they WILL be here in February, and in March? What if they just got a major health diagnosis and are now taking life and health seriously? You don't know this person; you don't know their history or their present or their future, and maybe this year is going to be the year they make huge strides towards fitness.

Also, what if they are gone in a month? Does it really affect your life? You had to park in the back of the lot? Boo. Fucking. Hoo. You're here for a workout anyway, thank them for the extra 30 steps.

Argument from Arrogant Gym-Goers #2: These newbies don't know how to use the equipment. They're doing it wrong/getting in my way/lifting too much/not lifting enough/their form sucks/they're taking too long.

Well, fuck you, for one. And for two, when you first started working out, did you know how to use every piece of equipment, or all the right form or lifting techniques, or how to do every single thing in the most effective way? No you did not. So get off your high horse. The gym is hard. A lot of equipment at the gym is hard if you've never used it, and that's intimidating...ESPECIALLY WITH A CLEARLY SEASONED PERSON STANDING THERE JUDGING YOU!! Instead of being a dick, what if you approached someone in a nice way and asked if you could show them a better form? Or what if you were like, hey, can I show you something that'll let you do half the work for double the results? Maybe you could just stop wasting your own workout time shaming a stranger - or did I miss a memo somewhere that it burns extra calories to judge someone trying to better themselves?

What would be great, is if fat-shaming other people, made YOU fat.

The gym has always been intimidating to me. Whether I am going to a couple classes a month, or whether I am there every night doing cardio and weights, I have always been uncomfortable in large gyms. I hate working out in front of other people. I don't like taking classes that are new to me and routine to 20 other people. I don't like jogging slowly on a high incline on the treadmill while the girl next to me is sprinting, because it makes me feel slow as fuck - even though I am on a higher incline and probably have different goals than she does. I don't like using machinery at the gym when people are waiting, or when people are watching - because I assume I'm doing all of it wrong. I don't like lifting free weights in front of anyone lifting heavier weights or more reps, because it makes me feel like a weakling. I really do just hate to be at the gym - but none of the reasons I hate the gym are about my own health or fitness, or my own journey - they are all related to other people.

And that is probably because such a mass population of people in the gym are spending their time judging me instead of working out!!

Take your fucking eyes off of me, and focus on yourself. You're here for your journey, and I am here for mine, and there is no reason for you to believe that my journey means I'm in your way. Don't put my ass on your snap story because you think I'm running too slowly on the treadmill - because at least I'm here, and at least I'm running. Perhaps if you would stop watching me and put your damn phone down, you'd be able to pick your own pace up a little bit too!


Tuesday, January 3, 2017

2017. Coming to You Live on January 9th.

2017 started with a bang.

Quite literally.

On Monday morning, at about 4:30am - after finally dozing off somewhere around 3:30 listening to my nightmarish upstairs neighbors and their dogs run and jump and bark and play drums and smoke and be fucking obnoxious fucking ass holes - I fell out of bed.

Out. Of. Bed.

I fucking fell out of my bed like a toddler sleeping in a big-kid bed for the first time ever, smacking my forehead on the nightstand drawer, which I had lazily left slightly open, landing on my arm, which has now been sore for 48 hours. And this was how I woke up on January 2, 2017.


After I fell out of bed, I slept for about 30 more minutes before it occurred to me no later than 6:00 in the fucking morning that thanks to the aforementioned ass holes living above me, I wasn't getting any more sleep. So I got up and took my time getting ready for work. (For the record, I have to be at work by 9:00, so I usually get up between 8:00 and 8:40, depending on whether or not it's the one day out of every five to twelve that I commit to actually washing my hair.)

Instead I'm up at 6 fucking o'clock. And you bet your ass I BLASTED Pandora the entire 3 hours. Fuck you, upstairs neighbor. Wake your shit asses up, and enjoy the sweet, sweet sound of Bryce Fox on volume level ear-piercing.

I was then in my office by 8:00 in the morning, I spent the next 8 hours getting bitched at because you know, people are surprised every single month when they have to pay their rent, and somehow the fact that they can't afford their apartment or got in a fight with their roommate or broke up with their boyfriend, is my fault. Well, sure, that does make sense. My bad. I then left work, went to Costco with my mom, where literally everyone on Earth was shopping with their bratty-ass children who were acting like feral cats, and their stupid husbands who were too bored to pay attention to the fact that they were standing in the middle of the aisle with their thumb up their ass, and their dog.


On Monday, because I didn't get any sleep at all on Sunday night, I came home from Costco, had saltine crackers and peanut butter for dinner. and went to bed.

I'm awesome.

Today I got up at 8:45, because I didn't have to wash my hair, and got to work where I was literally told to fuck myself (side note, YOU fuck YOURSELF, you dumb twat) four times - again because people forget that I am not in charge of managing their finances or their lives or their abilities to be a human. And then I came home and had popcorn for dinner, because I have had such a shit-ass two days at work I don't dare go to the grocery store for anything adults eat for dinner, and am sitting on my couch at 8:00pm, watching a Jim Jeffries comedy special in a fluffy bathrobe, drinking a Corona and considering just going to bed.

Of course I am really busy reading insane messages sent to me by desperately horny, unattractive, possibly-single-but-probably-married, dick-pic-sending, perverted freaks on Plenty of Fish, so I'll probably stay up for a while. These dudes do make me laugh, if nothing else.

In short, 2017 has not made it easy thus far, for me to maintain my resolution of being fucking amazingly positive about all things.

It's not easy to resolve to be positive when people are screaming at you to fuck yourself.
Especially since you're supposedly paid to listen politely as they do so (side note, I will absolutely not be tolerating bull shit behavior from anyone in my life this year, and that does include residents).

It's not easy to resolve to be positive when you're sleep deprived.

it's not easy to be positive when you haven't been to the grocery store like an adult and are now consuming food that is in direct violation of the health and fitness resolutions you made less than 72 hours ago.

It's definitely not easy to resolve to be positive when you fall out of your god damn bed the first morning of the new year!

And so I have adjusted my resolution slightly. I'm an adult, and I can do that.

I have resolved that I will start my new year on Monday, January 9th. Because you know what? Rent week is not a good week in property management. And the rent week following Christmas is quite possibly the WORST week of all time in the entire career of property managers. So I am not going to set myself up to fail, plain and simple. For me, the next six days are still 2016. They don't count. My new year is the property management new year, which officially begins the Sunday evening following the first rent week of the new year.

Beginning on Monday, I will have gone to the grocery store. I will have located and charged my FitBit. I will have bought enough water to stay hydrated. I'll be ready for my exercise, and I'll be ready to not eat M&Ms for lunch as I try to not stab someone who is calling me names because they owe a late fee.

Beginning on Monday, I will have cleaned my apartment and done the dishes, and will have addressed my issues with my upstairs neighbor like a grown up instead of by blaring Pandora in their ears for three hours. I will have updated my address and forwarded my mail and done all my laundry. I will be fully adult on Monday.

I have already resolved that 2017 will be a positive, awesome, fantastic fucking year, where I go after my goals and crush every last one of them. It just so happens, that I know I can't do that, this week. Fuck this week.

Lesson: It doesn't really matter if you fall, as long as you get back up.

2017. I'm still winning. I'm just a week late to the game.

Sunday, January 1, 2017

2017 is for Tacos and Stand-Up

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I am a New Year's Resolution girl. I like reflection. I like thought. I like goals, both setting and achieving. I like resolutions. I make and break resolutions. I just really enjoy the feeling of the new year...a seemingly fresh start, blank slate, empty canvas.

2016 was a real bitch

I should have known it would be - it started with finding out the guy I was dating was both in the hospital and also not as single as I believed him to be (fucker). When you text the guy you've been dating for 10 months at midnight, saying happy new year and you wish he was there with you instead of at home alone, not feeling well, and then at 2:00 in the morning you get a text back that says how about you don't text my boyfriend like should just know, this year may not be the winner.

Clearly I should have anticipated all of the celebrity deaths and Donald Trump's win.

Anyway, as I said, 2016 was a bitch - in many, many ways.

However, 2016 was also full of a lot of excitement, fun, and positive vibes - it wasn't all bad.

Things that were fantastic in 2016:
* MCP sold and I got the fuck off the property just in time to not have a legitimate mental breakdown.
* I lived with my best friend for six months, and at the end of it we were still best friends. The same cannot be said for our cats, who were not - and are not - friends.
* I rented her room to a really great roommate for the second half of the year - the best part was how much of the rent he paid so I was able to trade in my pickup for a band new car.
* Work advancement. Always exciting.
* I spent a lot of time with my grandma and didn't have to see anyone else in my family in order to do so. More importantly, I finally came to a place where I was at peace with the loss of the family I had, and have been able to accept the lack of relationships I have left.
* I moved into my own apartment, not on a rent discount, not on the property I work at, and on a real lease...for the first time in a long time. And I basically haven't worn pants since I got the keys.
* I spent Thanksgiving at the beach, boycotting - and hanging out with my two favorite people, Stace and Blake.
* I went to the beach several times, and also to Bend. And also to Arizona and Las Vegas, and even Alaska!
* My best friend got pregnant. And I got to go to her ultrasound last week...and hear baby's healthy, happy little heart beat.
* I didn't get pregnant.
* The sex was good.
* In the name of not letting Donald Baby Hands Trump run my life, I learned a lot about politics. Even though it infuriated me, I like that I have a lot of knowledge now.
* I had a lot of work-life balance, which I haven't had in a few years. It was like I had a life outside of property management!
* Juno...well, just her existence in general.

I spent the last week of 2016 on vacation, which is always a fantastic idea. I had a lot of lazy days, slept in, hung out with friends, and even did some adulting - mostly though, I was lazy. Yesterday was a fun end to 2016 - I slept in and ran a few errands, bought a fantastic set of chairs and yellow side table, and deep cleaned my apartment before it was time to go out and ring in 2017. Somewhere in there I also spent an insane amount of time trying to get my 2016 memories out of my memory jar so I can reuse the jar for 2017...when I made the jar, I didn't pay enough attention to how tiny the neck was, so getting the papers out involved chopsticks, tweezers, scissors, and tape. But I did it! Juliana and Patrick came over later in the evening, and we had champagne in my fancy new champagne flutes - for which I paid 3 bucks at Home Goods (woot). The plan was to each have a glass, so of course instead we went through two bottles. We started the night with appetizers and shuffleboard at Brickhouse with Eric and Kattie, then they dropped us off at Main Event, where we spent the rest of the night drinking, taking shots (okay well that was just me), dancing, and hanging out with strangers. There were of course a couple creepy dudes in the crowd - someone actually snapped my bra, which was interesting - but overall it was a fun crowd with a great vibe, and everyone had a lot of fun. We even met several really nice girls, which is always a surprise since girls are, you know, nasty bitches just in general. There was a girl there with mermaid blue and purple hair...I don't know her name, but I gave her my number. Because, well, because tequila.

After midnight but before 2:00, we got an Uber back to my place, where I promptly threw up a few times, shed my clothes throughout the apartment (as I always do when I'm drunk), and fell asleep, phone in hand, after discussing my future Panda Express order via text message with a fella.

I know, I know...I'm so awesome, I just can't even explain it.
Oh hey, you're a cool guy...wanna know what I plan to order to cure the hangover I will definitely have tomorrow??
Mmm, string bean chicken and half chow mein, half white rice. I can't wait.

This is certainly unrelated to why I'm single.

Because I am feeling blissfully positive about 2017, I am choosing to believe that he found it charming. Obviously.

As I've said before, I love the beginning of a new year...even though I hate hangovers. I like reflecting on my prior year, and I like making plans for the upcoming 365 days. I try to keep things open-ended and not too strict, because why make impossible resolutions?? Like, here's a list of ways to let myself down this year! Instead I try to make resolutions I can actually stick to and win with.

The only definitive (read: numbers) goal I am setting for 2017 is helping Juno lose 2 pounds. She's ridiculous, and it's so cute that she's fat, but I do want her to be healthy, and I do not want her to get diabetes. So far she's on a food that costs me like $1000 a year because it's made out of solid gold, but we're working on her moving more, just in general. She is always hungry, so I make her do a couple laps up and down the hallway before I set her dish down - yes, seriously. It's funny for me, and I think it counts as cardio for her, considering how aggressively she runs at food.

I'm still thinking about what specifics I want to focus on for the year - normally I'd spend the first nursing my hangover and writing down my resolutions while eating my Panda Express. But today I was distracted by discovering stand up comedy on Netflix and watching a movie with the aforementioned dude who understood my passion for string bean chicken.

But in general, I have some things to focus on related to health and fitness, financial stability, work-life balance, and career growth - as well as just an overall desire to meet more people and enjoy my time more. I made a point this year to try new things more often - and I feel like I did a good job overall; I want to do more of that, obviously.

And also, to eat more tacos and definitely watch more stand up comedy.

Friday, December 30, 2016

Car Dance Your Ass Off

Day Four: A song that reminds you of your best friend.

One one of our many adventures back from Bend, Kattie and I sat in traffic.

Not a little traffic.

HOURS of traffic.

So much traffic, I almost peed my pants at some point. There was snow in the mountain, and people apparently just lost their mind, and maybe there was a wreck or two or three, but we literally took like six hours to get home from Bend.

And on the drive, Jason Derulo saved us from certain insanity with his sexy voice and even sexier album cover (side note, where are the fellas with a face like his) - and I think we listened to this song 15 times, easy.

We've taken several trips to Bend, and it is always a very different adventure. We've gone there to party at dive bars and eat insane piles of nachos. We've gone there for wine tastings and shopping. We've gone there to read, relax, shop, hike, drink, and adventure. And it's always the very best.

Clearly the best part is the relationship she and I have with Jason Derulo, who we cannot help but sing along to while car dancing in the snow, attempting to forget about how bad traffic is or how badly we have to pee.

When Words Fail, Music Speaks

Day Three: A song that calms you down

There are many, many versions of this song - and I love every single one of them. My assistant manager just said the other day "oh my god this is always on your Pandora!"


This song calms me down. Calms my frantic mind, relaxes my brain, and levels my soul. Whether it;s Leonard Cohen, Billy Currington, Pentatonix, Kate Voegle, or even Shrek, this song always speaks to me. Always makes me close my eyes and breathe deep, just makes me take a moment and chill.

And I think we all know how hard it is for me to ever take moments and chill.

Tuesday, December 27, 2016

A Lid For Every Perverted Pot

So, because I was feeling too confident and secure in my life, I'm now online dating.

And by online dating, I do in fact mean I am online, being solicited for sex and blow jobs, turning down dates with creeps who I then have to block from contacting me.

It's so romantic!

After complaining one too many times about not ever meeting anyone I am "allowed" to date (because in the course of my day, I spend time with my employees, my residents, and my vendors, all of whom are on the naughty list), I was encouraged to give the online thing a try (because God forbid any of my friends know any handsome, independent, normal guys to set a girl up with).

Okay fine. I mean I do not want to at all, but I'll give it a go. So I spent yesterday afternoon creating an account and a profile, and resolved to give it a real opportunity to surprise me.

No surprise at all.

It is, of course, going basically like the shit show you'd expect from thousands of single, horny dudes without a filter to control them.

In my first 12 hours, I received no fewer than 100 emails. Approximately 80% of them contained at least one of the following:
"Hi." And then nothing else. I equate this to approaching someone, saying hi, and then just awkwardly staring at them, blinking.
"You're pretty/hot/gorgeous/bangin'/sexy" (okay I admit I liked the one who called me bangin').
"Wanna get a drink this week?" (can I get your name please, like, you could really be an axe murderer)
"Do you like to give head?" (not to you, bro!)
"Wanna chat?" (isn't that why I'm on this bull shit website?)

I also got two messages from chicks, who apparently are dumb as rocks, since I very clearly stated woman...looking for a man. Nice rack though, I'll give you that. And honestly, after the guy who said he wanted to bang my head against the headboard while he spanked me, I might actually go for it...and these girls probably knew I was feeling that way. So actually, a genius move!

Online dating truly blows me away. Like, would you ever approach a woman in a bar and whip your dick out?


Then don't email a dick pic!

Would you walk up to a woman at the gym and ask for a blow job?


Then don't lead your message with, "girl, you look like you like to suck dick."


A guy messages me last night, and says hi...he's cute, so I say hi back.
And that's where I went wrong, obviously.
He then says, "I'm a dominant guy and I like to take charge."
Umm dumb ass asks what he means by that.
"It means I'd like to spank you hard and bang your head against my headboard while you suck my dick."
Oh. Well of course that was what you meant.


But seriously...what?!

Has this ever worked for you in real life? NO. That's why you're on this website, trolling women, getting blocked left and right. And what's sad is I bet you sit at the bar with your buddies, bitching and whining about how these dumb bitches online just won't give you a chance. I mean, we might...if you'd put it back in your pants and chill for a fucking second. I really thought this guy was attractive...that is, until he started typing words! Like, you're cute, but please don't speak.

I have now figured out (in only a few hours) how online dating works for nice-ish guys:

Women are bombarded with perverted, dirty, creepy fuckers asking us how sloppy we like our blow jobs, how big our tits are, and whether we're down with then when we get a message from an even halfway normal guy who we may not be attracted to, or who may misspell all his words, or who may be super boring, we're like YES I HAVE FOUND THE ONE!! It's not even about love or connection; it's just about pure relief, and the thought that we may be able to disable our profile for the love of God before someone else emails us.

Smell the desperation working for the boring guys who are only slightly intelligent but at least smart enough to not start a conversation with "here's my dick."

Like, I'm just happy you didn't ask me if I like it in the ass, so yes, I'll marry you. What was your name again though?

And that is really how I think it works. I spent a painful hour and a half emailing a guy who I was bored by, and also judging for misusing your/you're, thinking - oh my God just let this guy be nice and I'll seriously be his girlfriend if only to log out of this fucking shit! Nice, boring, kinda dumb...for the win.

I was forwarding screen shots of these insane messages to my mom and cousin last night, telling them how amused I was...because really, how can you not just laugh when a stranger asks you how often you masturbate...and my mom was like, this would just piss me off so bad. But like, why? It's hilariously pathetic, and the block feature is awesome. I have literally been on this site for 18 hours and have blocked somewhere in the 40-50 range of seriously demented douche bags who apparently think online is the place to get a rim job from a stranger.

I mean, that does happen online, but I don't think this is the site for you, man...try Tumblr.

While I was chatting with someone else last night, I received three emails between 12:00 and 12:15am, all three asking for sex, pretty explicitly. I told the guy I was talking to that midnight felt very much like last call, where guys are stumbling around drunk, just grabbing onto any chick who walks by, willing to literally fuck anything and anyone. I said I needed to log out before I started being virtually groped, and he replied with a pretty smart remark about how much it must suck to be a chick.

For fucking real, bro.

I bet no one has asked him how big his dick is today.

Never Ever, Ever

Day Two: A song that reminds you of one/both of your parents.

My mom is a music fool, and she likes all music. Literally all of it. My mom's playlist makes my brain numb, because it jumps from classical to country to hip hop to symphony and back. She'll give any song a listen, and will almost certainly love it. She likes her music turned up loud, and much like me, if she's having a bad day she'll escape it by taking a long drive with her music blasting - I think the only difference is that I prefer the windows down.

I could probably think of 50 songs that remind me of my mom. I could probably name several songs that she's danced around the kitchen to with me, or turned up loud in the car to annoy me, or played on her clarinet, or annoyed my dad and brother with in the kitchen.

But the number one song that makes me think of my mom? Easy peasy - that's the one and only Taylor Swift! My mom sent me this video when it came out as a "we-hate-the-ex" reminder, and we laughed and laughed about how much he sucks at life. So now whenever I hear it (and I love me some Taylor Swift), I always think about how funny my mom thinks she is.

Well, that and how much he does in fact, suck at life.

Monday, December 26, 2016

Just Like Dolly Parton!!

I have this week off work, and it seemed like a great opportunity to really recharge for the upcoming new year - I have spent the past few days organizing my new apartment, getting settled, purging unnecessary drama from Facebook & Instagram, and doing a lot of thinking. 2016 was a difficult year in, like, literally every way possible, but here we are with just a few days left. I am looking forward to 2017 for many reasons - some big, some small, some I'll share here, and some I'll keep to myself. But in any case, I always appreciate a good blog challenge, and this one struck my fancy as a fun way to ring in the new year! 

Day One: A song from your childhood

When I was little, I was obsessed with Dolly Parton.
Literally fascinated. 

And my mom bought me these amazing glittery, bedazzled, fring-ey cowboy boots that I don't think I probably took off until my feet wouldn't fit in them anymore. When I opened the box, I gasped and said, "oh my gosh, they're just like Dolly Parton's!!!" 

Like I said. Obsessed. 

Yesterday was Christmas, and this year was probably the quietest my holiday has ever been. I got up in the morning and took Grandma to church, which was as pleasant as always. Everyone who came through the door was so happy to see her, complimenting her holiday broach, wishing her a Merry Christmas, and giving her hugs & kisses. As much disdain as I have for the Catholic church, I do actually enjoy taking her - I even sometimes pay attention instead of scanning the room for cute boys. 

After church, Grandma and I went to my parents' house for breakfast and presents. I did't get any new Dolly Parton boots (dammit), but I was just about that excited about the Costco shopping trips gifted to me by Santa...being an adult is so lame. 

My mom and I drank mimosas, and I headed home mid-afternoon, where I spent the evening drinking more mimosas, watching Netflix, and organizing closets in my new apartment. It was quiet and mellow, and a bit of a reminder as to why Christmas isn't my favorite day of the year anymore. It felt mostly just like any other Sunday, which isn't a bad thing by any means - just didn't feel like much of an extra celebration.

I think next year I'll ask Santa for some Dolly Parton boots! 

Friday, December 16, 2016

You're a Weak-Ass Bully

The definition of BULLY: a blustering, quarrelsome, overbearing person who habitually badgers and intimidates smaller or weaker people.

Let me just preface this blog with a reminder that, this is my mother-fucking blog, and I will say what I want, how I want, when I want. I am very aware of the consequence of voicing my opinion out loud (or writing it out loud, in this case). I don't need anyone to tell me to relax or let anything go, nor do I need to be told to be nice or to keep things to myself.


Fuck your bully-ass, manipulative bull shit. Fuck you for the way you speak to people, for the way you speak to your family. Fuck you for the way you use people, for the way you make yourself a victim by manipulating the people around you. Just seriously, fuck you.

I am so beyond done with the bull shit, it's insane. I cannot continue to sit idly by and watch people mistreat other people. If you are a bully, I will call you a bully. If you are manipulative, I will call you manipulative. If you are abusive or domineering or aggressive, or just quite plain FULL OF FUCKING HORSE SHIT, you're going to be put in your place for being a fucking ass hole.


Fuck you for ruining holidays, for tearing things apart just to be the winner of some bull shit stupid fight. Fuck you for crying and whining and being a big fucking bratty-ass baby, Like, for real, fuck you, you stupid ass holes.

Here's the reality. People are destroyed here. This isn't a moment where you have been hurt and we all need to bow down to you with apologies, begging you to forgive us. Ummm. Fuck you. You and your manipulation have legitimately destroyed other people. And you don't give a fuck. And you don't give a fuck because you're too fucking selfish to even see that you caused all of this damage. You are the one behind it all, and maybe it took us 10 years to figure it out, but we know now, and you're not going to continue to play the puppet master.

You can seriously, just fuck right off. Girl, bye.

And seriously, just like that I feel a little better about this insane lunacy.

Sometimes a girl has just got to vent, ya know? And today was one of those days, where I just need to type the word fuck like 35 times so I don't drive somewhere to pop someone in the jaw.

On a serious note though, it's awful to sit back and watch as one person tears apart ten other people. To sit and watch it all play out; to watch the lies, the bullying, the manipulation. It's sad to bring it up and be completely ignored (because God forbid someone take ownership in their part of anything). Sometimes, being the bigger person is really fucking hard. It's hard because usually, it requires letting go of relationships. When you stand up to someone who abuses you, you have to be prepared to say goodbye to that relationship. When you stand up for yourself, when you choose yourself over anyone else, it can really, really fucking hurt.

That is, until it doesn't hurt anymore.

Until it occurs to you that you're better now, that you win because you're no longer cowering to another person. It stops hurting when you learn how much better your life has become since you made a decision to just choose to take care of YOU. It takes a long time to get there. It takes a few steps forward, and then a few more back. Deciding you are more important than anything else, feels like trying to claw your way out of a wet paper bag. But trust me when I say, it's worth it.

If you're a bully, you can actually just fuck off right now.

And if you're the victim of a bully, stop letting that shit slide immediately, and just put yourself at the top of the list. You matter so much more than any bull-shit dumb-fuck weak-ass bully, who literally is only picking on you because they hate their own life.

How sad is that??

Just. Go. Love. Yourself.

And fuck off to the people who would rather just crush you than let you love yourself. #boom.