11.

List 15 of your favorite things.

You’d think that would be a good question for #15.

But it’s not it’s number 11 on DAY 11 of the BLOG CHALLENGE.

It’s very open ended. Hmm…Well. In no particular order, here are 15 of my favorite things in list form!

1) The X-Files.

2) Stand-up comedy.

3) Animows (animals for you lay persons).

4) Reading self-help books.

5) Mocha iced coffee. Slurp, slurp, slurp.

6) Cartoons! Muppets! Hooray!

7) Netflix. God Bless America. Is the B in bless capitalized? I don’t know, it looks weird without it. I blame the structuring of song titles for that.

8) French onion soup. French onion dip. French onion everything.

9) Singing. I did that for a while.

10) Convincing people they should be my friend because I love them.

11) Lipstick and nail polish. BALLAH.

12) Wearing whatever I want. Platforms. Spaceship sandals. Wookie t-shirts.

13) Singing in the car and driving around in general. I turned on the radio and was greeted with the Pokemon theme song followed by Istanbul (They Might Be Giants). I nearly drove my car straight to the moon.

14) Coke. Either in a can or fountain.

15) Pretzel m&m’s.

Yay!

Those are 15 of my favorite things! Cool, right?

No?

Well fine.

Until next time, my crepe-nuts.

 

P.S. I forgot to mention my kitty, MooMoo. 😀

Coke Whore

I’m sorry, did you say something? I couldn’t hear you over the cracking of my sweet, delicious Coke.

The cracking of the can, the first sip of crisp liquid love.

I’ve fallen back into my old habits.

When I was in 6th grade I would have a minimum of 5 cans per day, along with 2 meatball Hot Pockets. I stopped drinking it and lost a bunch of weight, but now over 2 years out of college I find myself standing in front of the display at CVS wondering which package will come home with Mama.

I touched that one, but I saw that one first. Well I can’t just choose between my children. You both can come home! (Cue me walking out of the store with a 12 pack under each arm.)

I get into my car and there are cans in all the designated cup holders. The trash bag in the back seat is filled to the brim with cans that clink around as a drive, just like Santa’s sleigh bells.

I didn’t really see the problem with it. I love what I love and it’s the one thing, you know, besides friends and family and bler blah barf, that I can rely on.

I did question myself as I was sitting at my desk, watching some stand-up, when reached for my Coke. I started to take a sip when I came out of my Coke haze and remembered I hadn’t put my Coke on my desk. I looked over at my night stand and my darling cherub sat there in all it’s beautiful red glory, shining like the angel of mercy it is.

I looked down at the Coke in my hand and realized it was probably from when I was cleaning my room the weekend prior.

That would explain the green fuzz growing around the mouth piece. I thought maybe this can came with it’s own terrarium. Got to be environmentally conscientious these days.

I mean, even the name Coke, sounds like the noise it makes when you open the can. The freshness. The bubbles dancing around on my tongue. Sweet relief.

At any rate that’s where I am, squealing with delight over a box of Cokes that still have the polar bears on the can, even though the box didn’t indicate they were the winter edition.

Now that is a true treasure.

Until next time, my Chipsqueaks!

Mama’s Gotta Brand New Tooth

Hey skeebermeisters!

I got me a brandy-new tooth in my face hole.

I realize that I have many face holes, but it’s in my biggest face hole with the rest of my teeth.

Following a 3 year diet consisting of 6 cokes and 2 Hot Pockets a day, one of my teeth rotted out into oblivion.

I swear I have nice teeth otherwise, this was in my “tween” years where my essential bodily upkeep was not up to normal standards. Unless you consider glittery eyebrows and white eyeliner normal.

I can’t chew on that side of my face for week. I chew aggressively so hopefully the right side of my jaw doesn’t turn into one giant beefed-up muscle.

I’ll take pictures if that happens.

Until next time, scuba boobs!

May I Borrow That Stretcher?

Well, crap. 

I’m starting to take my health a little bit more seriously these days. I figure if I’m going to be super famous, I should start working on my super famous body. I want to be fit, so you can  go ahead and invite me down to the river to wash out some of your linens on my perfectly sculpted abs.

I box and roller skate, but these activities only cancel out so much Coke and pizza after a certain period of time. So, I thought I’d take baby steps. Really. I downloaded a pedometer app (which yay! counts just touching the phone as 3 steps) and stuck it in my back pocket for the day.

Apparently, the ideal amount of steps to take in a day is 10,000. I’m in decent shape, but Jesus, at 5pm I hadn’t even broke 1,000…and that was being conscious that I would probably have to take more steps than normal. 

I went home, ate a salad, and immediately went out to do errands in hopes to get some more steps in. Well, 4 hours and $150 spent, I was closing in on 3,000 steps. Not even to the halfway point and my legs were already sore. 

Now the resentment of my desk job is starting to seep in as the remainder of my muscle melts into extra flesh. You think the Pillsbury company could use a girl mascot?

This is going to be an interesting journey. My love affair with Coke and pizza might be interrupted by my nagging body, demanding attention.

Alright my little love dumps. Until next time!

I Have a Bruised Ass

Hey WordPressians! I think this post might be full of profanity, so buckle up barf-breaths!

Friday I went to roller derby tryouts and fell on my ass a whole bunch. By “a whole bunch” I mean a fuck-ton. That’s like a regular ton, but with each fall the “fuck” you scream as you land on your tail bone gets louder and more aggressive.

I can’t walk from all the squatting and skating and falling and dying, so I’ve been laying in bed with my cat, Maisy. She says hi.

In other news, I haven’t washed my sheets in a few weeks because I’m gross. Maisy says it smells like shit in here, so I’m thinking I might open a window and spray some Febreze on my bed until I can make it down to the laundry room.

I also bought a new notebook to write all my dysfunctions in. Here is a quote from Thursday, which I found to be a particularly raw moment. There was a lull at work.

Thursday: “I’m fucking dysfunctional today because I’m thirsty and it’s cold outside. I just want to fucking leave. I’m thirsty as fuck and I want an iced tea. I can’t wait to have a soda later but I’m irritated because glasses keep slipping of my goddamn face and my fucking hands are sticky, and I don’t even know why. I just want an Oreo smoothie and peace the fuck out and read a book and drink a coke.”

Charming and coherent. But I believe in the expelling of negative energy into a notebook before having a meltdown in public. I have my own minor internal tantrums, so it’s nice to get them out before I talk to you darlings (or before I drive my car through a Denny’s).

Until then kids, I hope you’re having a lovely weekend with your supple, non-bruised, sweet little asscheeks.

“Too Personal”

Another rejected list. Too personal? Puh-shaw, asshole-y intestines are a common problem.

Quotes Plastered Around My Gym’s Wall and My Immediate Reactions

TRAIN HARD OR GO HOME.

“Mom, I’m home! Ooh Spongebob Mac&Cheese, my favorite. ”

MAKE YOUR SOMEDAY TODAY.

“Make your sundae today? Mmm sundaes.”

LEAVE NOTHING IN THE TANK.

“Oh, I did that one! My $300-a-month membership leaves me little to no money for my tank. I walked here. Are those my feet that are bleeding?”

A GIRL KNOWS HER LIMITS, A WISE GIRL KNOWS SHE HAS NONE.

“That piece of intestine hanging out of my asshole? That’s for bitches. Watch me bench press this 5lb box of Twizzlers.”

YOU CANNOT OUT TRAIN A BAD DIET.

“HA. How dare you underestimate my ability to create an algorithm that produces the number of miles , rounded to the nearest hundredth, needed to run to maintain my weight on a diet of  Funyons and Coke. Frankly, I’m insulted.”