Patches the GooGoo Butt

hiiiii.

I have a patch test on my back right now. When I typed that it auto corrected to “psych test” twice so I don’t know if I should also start making my appointment with a therapist too. 

I went to the dermatologist and she slapped these babies on my back. I can’t reach and stretch for 3 days until they come off. I also can’t get them wet, so no showering. Which is great because I usually shower anyways so I WIN. (Maybe not true but you can’t smell me so how do you know for sure?)

Oh, but I lose because I sweat to death in my little hot box for a bed. I keep my room at 55° (the lowest the heat will go without having the landlord spank me) and have both ceiling and desk fan on. This little baked potato body just wants to roast. 

If you’re wondering why I’m a “GooGoo Butt” then you should ask yourself the more important question which is why aren’t YOU identifying as a GooGoo Butt? Maybe you are one and you don’t know it. But you are so problem solved.

It’s time for my Oprah meditation. I’m not joking she has an app and a free mediation experience for 21 days. I keep falling asleep during them because I’m transcending reality or overtired, I’m not sure.

Okay I love you bye wipe your dog off! 

The face! The face! The face-is-on-fire!

Hey squeakers,

This weekend I went to an Ava Anderson party and charged shit-ton of stuff onto my credit card!

In short, Ava Anderson sells natural products for your big dumb face. We all know my big dumb face has been on fire for months because I’m allergic to something and it’s trying to kill me SO my big dumb face looked into my wallet and took out my credit card and gave it to a stranger so she could give me stuff that won’t burn my face off. SO YAY!

In other news, we (my roommate and I) came back from dinner and while walking through the parking lot of our apartment complex, we noticed our lights were on which we always shut off. Naturally, our next step was to stand outside our apartment with our ears pressed up the door, as if an intruder wouldn’t know to look through the peephole to see our faces smashed against the metal. We barged in, grabbed knives, I almost shit my pants because I had the pork chop for dinner, and then “cleared” all the rooms Walking Dead style. We’re still alive and I didn’t shit my pants. We were ready to slice and dice though. By the way, don’t throw us surprise parties.

Okay, it’s time for bed, I didn’t get my 300 hours of sleep this weekend so leave me alone gosh bye.

143

TO BE CONTINUED…

GREETINGS!

Remember that allergy I had that swelled my eyes shut before mysteriously going away* (*getting murdered by prescription pills)?

It’s back. I don’t know what I’m typing. I might not even be in the WordPress app. For all I know I could be texting the Hambuglar right now.Hey Hamburglar, what is your real name and why are you such an asshole? You don’t have access to ground beef? Or a grill? Not even a George Foreman? SUUUURE.

Anyways, I have 40lbs of Vaseline on my eyes and I’m looking très beautiful. I can’t wait to wake up with my sheets stuck to my face and a hunk of lint and maybe some dead (or living?!) spiders hanging on there too. Full status report of the spiders build a colony and raise an empire. 

Hehe! Okay Mr. Hamburglar, enjoy your night and you should really check your cholesterol. 

K love you 143 smooch

….

I wrote a really great post and WordPress said there was an error and deleted it. 

Here is a synopsis of the post: 

  1. I died four years ago and now I’m just using your wifi.
  2. My bed is the location of a very beautiful mountain range (of clean laundry.)
  3. Mount Iguessillfuckinfoldya and Mount Youregoinonthefloorya.
  4. I said “ornery gargoyles.” 
  5. Also, “quack-o-matics.”

There you have it! Maybe I’ll just start condensing my posts into lists like this. Hmm.

Okay love you you’re smelly bye

Help Me!

Hi Friends!

LOOK WHAT I DID! I signed up to walk for the AVON 39- The Walk to End Breast Cancer! LOOK AT THIS FANCY LOGO!

AVON_LOGO_39-THE-WALK-TO-END-BC_Horz_M100_CMYK_F

Pretty, huh? To actually be able to participate in this 2-day, 39.3 mile walk, I need to raise $1,800. Now, I haven’t fundraised for anything since Jump Rope for Heart in 3rd grade, so I need your help! Even if you can contribute just $5, it would be a HUGE help to me. I want to tribute my walk in honor of family members that have both lost and beat their battle with various cancers. If you donate, and I raise enough money to participate, I’ll be happy to write anyone’s name (of your choosing) on my shirt. I’ll post my super grungy pictures right here for you to seer your eyes out with!

PLEASE CLICK HERE TO DONATE!

The sooner I reach my goal, the sooner I’ll stop hounding you, my darlings.

THANK YOU SO MUCH! GO WASH YOUR TOES!

xoxo

ICE CREEEAAAAAAM & Death!

Hey Kids!

ICE CREAM! YAAAAY! Last week I bought ice cream at the store and forgot it was in the freezer. In a fit of hunger I nearly ripped the door off and saw my little vanilla beauty staring back at me. I’m très happy.

I’m also très happy because I finished Season 2 of Six Feet Under and onto Season 3. I get sad when I start a new season because the coloring and cinematography is different. it’s usually on the 3rd season too, I’m assuming because at that point DEY GOT MORE MUNNEEEEY. Also the amount of A list celebs that show up in the cast is unnerving. heheheh.

In other news, I forgot I had an iPad. I remember why I forgot I had it because it’s a first generation and cannot handle updates past iOs 5.1.1.  This means virtually (hehe) all your games and other apps cannot update and most apps cannot function without said updates. Therefore, the slab of metal and microchips is USELESS. It’s sad. Here’s a sad face. :(

Okay, while I was writing this I ate all my ice cream. Do I get more? Check one: Yes or Yes.

GOODNIGHT I LOVE YOU EAT YOUR VITAMINS!

There’s No Food in the House

Very sparingly do I go food shopping. When I do it’s just a flash of me running around Market Basket at 8:57pm on a Wednesday and shoving frozen, microwaveable green beans into my Cynthia Rowley (Marshall’s, amiright?) roll-y bag. The green beans are my vegetable source and Pepe’s 99-cent cheese ravioli is my super source of protein. For fruits I smell my Red Apple Wreath Yankee Candle. I’m sure there are plenty more food groups but I choose not to acknowledge them in fear that I’m either significantly malnourished and horrifically overindulgent depending on which group we examine.

My current status is hot chocolate which only comes after the five pieces of toast and three cups of vegetable soup I slaved over (it was prepackaged but I added the tomato sauce [we didn’t have stewed or diced] and stirred it lovingly).

I also took a shower for the first time in three days. Nothing perks a woman up like the sound of her Irish Spring body wash spurting onto her questionably old loofah. I’m sure there’s a replacement date suggested on the tag but it’s still the same color as when I bought it (I imagine). The shower was a couple hours ago and I still haven’t lotioned any crevice of my body. I’m typing and skin flakes are flurrying around my keyboard as my dry knuckles hammer up and down. If I lived in one of those allergy protection bubbles, I’d make a real killing on my side act as human snow globe. Très dramatic as I’m listening to the king of depression, Bobby Vinton. Real Lifetime movie material. WOO.

Anyways, time to go straighten my hair. I can smell my 450 degree flat iron burning into my dresser. The scent of old burning hair really helps me sleep at night.

OKAY GOODNIGHT 143

And Then She Went to the Hospital!

I bet you’ve been checking your inboxes frantically wondering where I’ve been and why I haven’t been bitching about my Oprah Magazine not arriving yet (but it did, so yay!)

My eyeballs have had a weird, rashy, burnt, allergic-ky thing going on for the last 3 months, only to be made worse when I smeared Gold Bond Ointment all over them and burned the rest of my burnt skin off. It all came to an unsightly head when last Saturday my face swelled shut and I had to go to the ER. THANKFULLY, they prescribed me STEROIDS! Here is a reenactment of what happened:

                

That cart was full of all the steroids for me! Yum, yum, yum, crunch, crunch, crunch!

Anyways, today was the last day of the steroids, so we’ll see if me throwing away all my down comforters and furry blankets really solved the problem or if I’m just one of those people who one day woke up and decided they would be allergic to their own hair.

Pray for me, my children.

During the  experience, I found out that Zantac helps against allergic reactions! This is great because my diet is pure acid so I’m really killing two birds with 10lbs of western medicine. I think that’s how the phrase goes.

Well, I’ve taken enough Benadryl to skleeeerzzzppbuarewoberp. TIME FOR BED!

More less-medicated updates to come!

Love you, xoxox, take out the trash already you animal.

Am I a Forty-Four Year Old Woman?

I’ve compiled a list of things I do/have done/think that have lead me to believe that I am really a middle-aged woman. 

1) Subscribing to a wellness magazine.

2) That wellness magazine is Oprah’s “O” Magazine.

3) Enjoying a nice Julia Roberts film on a week night.

4) Started calling TV shows “programs”. Hey, have you ever seen that Everybody Love Raymond program?

5) Loud noises, please stop. Turn down the TV. Turn the radio off. SHUT UP.

6) I’ve spent  half my paycheck on various scents and sizes at The Yankee Candle Factory.

7) I keep a pack of Sucrets stashed in my car. And my purse. And my bra.

8) Gloria Estefan, amiright?

9) “I just think dressing conservatively is more tasteful.” -A statement I’ve made.

10) 8 o’clock bedtime! Let me just finish my glass of Turning Leaf!

Amen xoxox.