Bucket List

Day….six…teen….need…waterrr…

Half way through the Blog Challenge!

Today’s questions is…

What’s at the top of your bucket list?

Right now I’m working on one of my top goals which was “watch every episode of the X-Files.” 

I’m almost done with it! 

Some others include “go on vacation (to white sand beach/luxury hotel)” and “become famous.” There’s also something on there about patting an elephant. They seem nice.

My stand-up class is almost over! 

I’m going to be sad once it’s over, but it’s been a lot of fun taking it. 

My showcase is coming up next week, so I’ve been mumbling to myself a lot, trying to remember lines. 

Well, I can’t stick around, I’ve got to shampoo my hair and burn it straight.

Until next time, my little shartdonays!

Me so Tired.

It’s true and I’m eating yogurt.

You know everything is going terribly when you’re eating yogurt on a Friday afternoon.

I think I should be doing my DAY 12 Blog Challenge post.

Something about what’s in my fridge.

Well, I’ll tell ya, it’s not yogurt.

I do have pretty cakepops in my fridge! If you don’t know what a cakepop is, they are essentially a mushy part of a cake, balled up and shoved onto a stick, dipped in chocolate, and refrigerated.

I have cookie dough and lemon.

I also have a headache.

They were supposed to be for my birthday party* (*me and my mom) but I’ve been eating them all day. I can’t help it. I’m a woman and I have needs. Needs for cakepops.

I also have 3 day old cupcakes in the fridge.  I also have insulin for my diabetic cat. I think I sense some irony and foreshadowing here.

In any case, I’m typing this with my forehead squarely planted on my desk, arms stretched out, typing like a sleepy Sphynx.

But I get to go see Bill Burr tonight! Which reminds me I haven’t written and all this week, but luckily my best stuff comes out of desperation. I mean, at least I think.

Okay kids, until next time!

A Very Winkel Wednesday

A Very Winkel Wednesday

It’s that time of the week again!

Winkel Wednesday!

Go check out all the silly things Mr. Winkel is doing in his down time.

http://mrwinkel.tumblr.com/

Yes, Pigs Do Have Bank Accounts

Hey. Hi. How are ya?

Good. I’m happy. I sucked down a bunch of coffee and I’m wearing a men’s tank top because fuck the establishment. I’m not really sure what that means because I had a meatball sub yesterday instead of going to the gym because that’s all that matters.

Am I crazy? I don’t know, do pigs not have 401Ks? I think the proof is in the partridge in a pear tree.

But back to my tank top. It’s of outer space, which I’m feeling resentful of, but it has kittens riding slices of pizza. Nothing has ever felt so right.

Still with me? Good. Enjoy that beef ravioli.

Until next time, chapstick lovers!

 

Dude, Where’d My Face Go?

Hey my Cabbage Patch Squids,

I think I may be having an identity crisis, but mainly just at my gym.

Every time I walk in and buzz my little card at the scanner, I get greeted with “HEY! You haven’t been around lately!” by one of the staff members. What? No! I was here yesterday and you said the same thing to me then. Maybe they’ve mistaken me for someone else? I smile and lie “I know, right?!” and I head over to the boxing area.

“Hello! How are you?!” asks a lovely woman I’ve maybe smiled at once or twice when she looked in my general direction.  Is she talking to me? She’s staring at me. Maybe she remembers me from the last thirty sessions we’ve had together? I haven’t answered her yet. Oh God. “Um, hi! Good! How are you?” Maybe she does remember me and she’s being friendly. There are a lot of new people here today.

“How’s your shop doing?” she asks as she wraps up her hands. I don’t have a shop, do I? Did I tell her I had a shop? Have we spoken before? Is there a woman who looks exactly like me and coincidentally comes into boxing every time I’m not there and talks about her shop? I wonder what kind of shop it is. Does she sell doughnuts or scarves? Thankfully the instructor started shouting drills at us so I couldn’t answer, and I made sure to ignore and avoid all eye contact for the next 45 minutes of class.

As the instructor was calling out drills, I saw him do a double take of me out of my peripheral. Oh Lord, unwanted conversation in three…two…

“Hey! How are you doing? You’ve been out lately.” Guh. No I haven’t. Who are you people? Who am I? What’s happening here?

I just kept smiling and answering his questions of my whereabouts. “Oh, you know,  just busy.” Nope, I’ve been here the past three days. Right there, on that treadmill and over there on the yoga mat and right here, right now for my example tomorrow when you don’t realize who I am. This does bring attention to all the times he called all the other girls names out in class and then stared at me and said “and you.”

It began to dawn on me that maybe I’m just another face in the crowd, easily mistaken for anybody and everybody else. “I just saw your sister!” I don’t have a sister. “How was the swim meet?” I don’t own a bathing suit. I’m beginning to see myself as a body with one of those fencing masks on. Nothing distinguishable, nothing unique.

But I am, I am! I yell in my mirror as I outline my lips with black lip liner and toss glitter into the air. I’m different! Look, a big nose! And look, a lazy eye! How are these things not jumping out at you? I mean, my nose is practically touching your face, sniffing all those little invisible hairs.

I think my quarter-life crisis has been rearing it’s over/underqualified, resume-hating, attention-wanting head.

Ouchies

Hi kitnips!

I tore my leg out of it’s socket today. You would think it might have been from the twenty minutes I spent doing mountain climbers, or the hour of boxing, or maybe even rolling over the hood of my car trying to get away from the mob. All valid excuses and I’m sore from all of those, but I really did some damage when I bent over to pick up the M&M I dropped. I didn’t think before I leapt into action, I just couldn’t risk it rolling under my desk or beneath my dresser. I couldn’t take the chance. I’m at least 80% sure that was dust and not cat litter.

In other news, I’m too lazy to do laundry so shorts it is! Fifty degrees can be beautiful providing the wind doesn’t blow over  2mph.

I’m burping up Chinese food, that means it’s time for bed.

Until next time, my bodacious breadcrumbs!

I’m a Piss-Bitch

Hey flarpnarbs

I’m in a real piss-bitch mood. I had 2 cups of coffee and 4 cups of tea, now I’m crashing and trying to chase the high with a little shit ton of macaroni and cheese. It’s not working.

I’ve been hunching over my laptop with my neck sunken down and my head up like a friggen Skeksis. I’m terrible at getting the plates to spin all at once, so now that I’ve kept up with the blog, I’ve totally neglected writing outside of it. Then when it’s 3am and I’m laying in bed with a bag of M&M’s in each hand and a M&M funnel shooting down my throat and I’m sobbing candy-coated tears, I realize I’m not famous because I haven’t been doing shit with myself. Fuck. Sigh.

I’m also looking at a nail polish color called “Fuchsia Bling Bling.” What the fuck does that even mean? Am I missing a cute and delightful reference in my blind piss-bitchery? Either way I think I’m going to bring the iPad to the gym so I can watch the X-Files and work on my glutes simultaneously. That’ll really cheer me up.

Until we meet again, my little Maroon Shing Shing’s.

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.