I'm gettin' hitched!

Translation: that one is pretty self explanatory. I'd say the visit from the boyfriend was quite successful considering he is now my fiance (or as he says "my fancy;" I am his "finance" ..hah). He popped the question on a nice long stroll through the beautiful course we live on. One of the only days it didn't rain the whole time he was here...the weather gods were smiling on him!

He got down on one knee and presented me with this:


Hello, train headlight.
Which then prompted me to squeal: is this really happening?! Of course I said yes. I was so surprised, but it was honestly the best experience I've ever had in Michigan! This is a sarcasm free update, because I am the happiest I think I have ever been in my life..when it's right, it's right!

My ring is being re-sized right now (I have tiny carnie hands) and I just dropped my fiance off at the airport earlier so I am having separation anxiety (from both). But I can already tell the wedding planning will be keeping me quite busy! Thank God I have a sister that does that for a living to help me!

In like a lion and out like a lamb...

Translation: With the way the weather is around here, it's more like March came in like a Polar bear and went out like a penguin. Anyway, it is now April and I am still wrapped up like an Eskimo. I hear warmer weather will be arriving next week. Coincidentally, so is my boyfriend to meet the folks for the first time. Got plenty of good touristy stuff lined up so I am pretty excited over the matter. As long as I don't see snow and no one dies, I will call his visit a success!

I am proud to say I have almost completely made it through April Fool's Day without being pranked once, knock on wood. As I was perusing Garden Ridge earlier with my mother we overheard one of the stock guys saying, "Yeah, I completely forgot what the date was, so when my brother called and said 'you're gonna be an uncle!' I almost had a heart attack."

Since we have no manners my mom and I immediately burst out laughing at his misfortune. He said it wasn't funny, I said, "could have been worse, you could have gotten a phone call from someone else saying you're going to be a father!" I am pretty sure he saw my point of view.

Anyway, I hate April Fool's...it seems through the years the pranks have gone from innocent (whoopie cushion in chair, computer mouse stuck in jello mold, etc.) to down right dastardly (I accidentally ran over your cat, your mother has been committed to a psych ward, etc.). Really the one thing I always get a kick out of is all the schmucks who change their relationship status on facebook to engaged, divorced, single to try and pull one over on everyone else...which makes you feel really bad for the one dude who's wife just so happened to leave him on this day and he's left with a barrage of comments saying "LOL...TOO FUNNY, APRIL FOOLS!" Just to rub salt in the wound. Of course, I'd probably be one of the a-holes rubbing it in. Moral of the story, don't be "that guy."



Knowledge is power.


In other news, I am typing to you from my new laptop. Word of advice: if you are still operating Vista make the leap to 7. I've had this laptop for almost a week and haven't had to yell at it once. With Inspiron and the Vista platform, I really fine tuned my cursing abilities.

Another one bites the dust...

Translation: I was going to write this whole big blog post about the top 5 things you should NEVER do in a restaurant today, but my laptop attempted suicide earlier. The damn thing jumped right off my bed and landed on it's charging port, cracking it up to all hell. I can plug in the charger, but the screen tells me its plugged in but not charging. My laptop is three years old and has about a 5 minute lifespan without batteries, so maybe it was trying to find a way out. Perhaps I'm not as witty as I think I am, and it just couldn't take it anymore. In that event, I apologize to the PC I am currently using.

Anywho, I dropped the lemon laptop off at a local company earlier today that was supposed to call me back with an estimate around 3. I am not by any means a patient person, but when I had still not heard back at 4:30 I called. Apparently the guy never came by the office to pick it up and have a look, so I won't know anything until tomorrow. I will twiddle my thumbs in a corner until then, waiting til I can compulsively check the status of my shops on the appropriately named "My Shops" facebook app, Chive full time, and generally find ways to procrastinate with my school work. It's hard knock life.

In the event my once expensive laptop (a Dell Inspiron 1525...a line that tried to put the 'p' in promising but ended up putting the 'p' closer to pathetic) is expensive to fix, I have found a new apple of my eye. A cheap Gateway that rolls out the door for less than 400. And has Windows 7. And Office 2010. And a screen that is TWO inches larger than my current laptop.

The moral of the story: I guess I kind of hope little Inspiron is off running in greener pastures and has found peace...

...this is all too familiar.

"Everyone hears only what he understands."

Translation: And right now I only understand 50 percent of what’s going on. Due to my sinuses/wax issues, I have lost all hearing in my right ear. I was q-tipping this morning and something is now lodged in my ear canal. I’ve tried drops, tomorrow I try oil. And nowhere in this equation will there be a doctor visit. The only thing I hate more than being hard of hearing (and Oprah) is going to the doctor.

There’s an upside and a downside to not being able to hear out of one ear. The downside being, I can’t effing hear anything happening on the right side of my head. Anytime someone tries to speak to me and my head isn’t cocked at the right angle, all I hear is Charlie Brown’s teacher. And when I’m walking through a crowded room I have to sway my head around frantically like a frickin Spaniel with separation anxiety so I can hear what’s going on around me.

Thinking of investing in an ear horn should the oil not loosen the clog.

Can anyone make this look sexy?

And on the upside, I can’t effing hear anything happening on the right side of my head. Catch 22 folks- but to the annoying people in the movie theater behind me earlier, I literally turned a deaf ear to you today. BAM- instant sound proofing. Tomorrow morning when the house is buzzing with activity and my lazy ass wants to sleep in, I’m only gonna need one ear plug. Without my glasses, I’m 75 percent on the way to being the next Helen Keller.

I’ve decided my deafness is temporary, so I might as well find the silver lining. When people are making fun of me for not being able to hear out of my right ear, I turn the other cheek. It’s both admirable and an efficient way to ignore them. What’s that you say? I can’t hear you? Oh are you trying to make fun of me? BECAUSE IT’S FALLING ON DEAF EAR(S).

The hardest part has actually been not yelling everything I say. I’m afraid I am losing the ability to speak with an “inside voice,” and if this doesn’t clear up in a day or two I not even going to have an inner monologue anymore. I might not be able to, but the whole damn world is gonna hear what’s on my mind.

I like my money right where I can see it - hanging in my closet.

Translation: There is no such thing as too many clothes, just too small a closet. This is a recent statement I made to my boyfriend that signaled a red flag in my own head (he already knows I'm crazy, but I refuse to accept it). But as a compulsive bargain shopper, I see nothing wrong with owning over ten pairs of black heels, a bajillion pair of skinny jeans, and a wardrobe Victoria herself would not want to keep secret, except for the fact that all these purchases were made on a buy one get one premise.

It occurs to me when I moved to Michigan after stuffing all my furniture in storage, I shipped about 12 24x24x24 boxes of shoes and clothes. And this was after donating 15 LARGE bags full of old clothes and shoes. Now, after living back home for almost a year, I fear the amount of shopping my mother and I have done is beyond healthy, but still a damn good lotta fun. When I move again I am going to need a U-haul for my shoes alone (black pump collection has been upped by a few pairs).

Now for those of you that follow me on the Facebook (yes, that one), you’ll know I recently paid off my credit card(s). I had two Capital One accounts that, let’s face it, at first I used responsibly but somewhere in between my first apartment and my 80th pair of shoes, I kind of let that “emergency purposes only” rule slide. Or, in my mind, an online sale at the likes of Express really was an emergency because those moments were few and far between. Never had being broke looked so utterly stylish.

But many trips to the bar, mall, and Outback later- I owed my credit card company about four grand. And it took me almost four years to pay off while still keeping a roof over my head and my power on (doesn’t matter how nice your clothes are, you cannot dress yourself in the dark). I was making good headway but my interest rates were so high that I consolidated my debt and took my business elsewhere. Capital One- you are so not what’s in my wallet.

I realize my troubles were completely self inflicted, but with the help of some hefty tax returns, my dear mother, and replacing the “BoGo” addiction with a healthier pastime- window shopping, I was able to beat the credit card demon.


Pictured: broken dreams.
And it feels so good, dear readers. But of course, after such a monumental occasion I really wanted to celebrate with a new pair of shoes…and I won’t lie to you. I bought three. And a tank top…but you better believe this chick paid for ‘em at half off and with cash. So now I am not only one of the very few people in America with no credit card debt and a rating over 750, I might also be one of the last of five people who pay cash for everything.

That's right, I’m officially that crazy lady you have to wait in line behind at the grocery store while she counts out the correct change. Remember that the next time you realize how easy it is to swipe a credit card.

But what if I don’t want to “spring forward?”

Translation: I’ve never fancied myself a springy person. And why the hell do we still observe day light savings time?

Fifteen. We have FIFTEEN clocks in this house (update: make that EIGHTEEN, I missed some of the smaller ones that I didn't know existed like the coffee maker and such. Hidden clocks everywhere!). I think this is partly just for décor and the other half is so that my mother can ensure my stepfather never causes them to be late for anything. I’ve never seen anyone better at the art of people herding than my mother. I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve been late to anything. I’m just thankful none of these instances were ever my fault, for you see I’ve inherited her mad time management skills.

But of course I am the only one home this weekend. So after losing an hour to daylight savings, I will promptly lose another setting all the clocks forward.

So I’m told the majority of the country still observes daylight savings time as a means to conserve energy. I was told so by a person who owns a giant diesel pickup truck and has no concept of the off position on a light switch. The irony in this situation was not lost on me.

While there are many things in this world I do not understand (massive understatement), why the time change happens at 2 a.m. baffles me. Although on the rare and fortuitous occasion you’re in a bar that observes the “fall back” at 2 and gives you an extra hour before cut off time is a glorious experience that I’ve only been a part of once. But it was magical, like seeing a unicorn being ridden by a leprechaun over a rainbow in Narnia. But that could be the hazy booze memory talking.

It would make more sense to switch at midnight, but since no one consulted me on the matter (rude) I guess I just have to deal with it. If this interrupts my regularly scheduled infomercials for the Snazzy Napper or Forever Lazy, letters will be written. Thankfully the powers that be are kind enough to make sure this switch happens on the weekend. It’s nice to know they are somewhat compassionate to the plight of the crabby sleeper. If I don’t get my full eight hours, I get mean (in that I have no problem kicking you when you piss me off instead of using my words. I need those eight hours for witticism potential to be at its maximum zenith).

Arizona’s got the right idea, saying FTW to daylight savings. I also hear you only have to renew your driver’s license once every 50 years there. I think all these things should be incorporated into their state motto, and I bet more people would live there. 125 degrees outside in March you say? Well, I never have to lose an hour in line at the DMV or because it’s time to spring forward. In your FACE.


My graphic artwork is so cutting edge.

"Forbidden fruit creates many jams."

Translation: Well it’s that time of year again…the time when I remember, ‘oh yeah, I’m Catholic…I’ve been doing my job all year by not going to church unless forced to for Christmas or Easter…but I better give up something for Lent so I’m not a total heathen.’

The past few years I have given up quite an array of items during Lent. I’d like to present you a list of some of the random things I have abstained from for 40 days (which is like eight years when you’re as A.D.D. as I am):

Smoking…I’d like to say this one worked, I really would. The whole idea behind Lent is you give it up, with the hope at the end of those 40 days, you can keep on trucking along without it. I tried giving up the smokes for three years in a row, no dice. One random ass day I just decided I didn’t want to smoke anymore, and that’s all she wrote. Haven’t bought a pack in almost a year, and at that point I would only smoke when I drank. Cigarettes were such a dirty vice. Such a smooth, menthol-y delicious vice…wait. Back tracking here, that could be the Screwdriver talking…speaking of…

Drinking…now, I did my fair share of drinking people twice my size under the table on a regular basis from about age 18-23. But when I moved from my bar-riddled hometown, I realized what it felt like to go an entire WEEK without a hangover, and I never looked back. But when I still lived in Angelo, I attempted to give up booze for Lent with about as much success as Kristie Allie had with Jenny Craig. Vodka, I can’t quit you. But now I enjoy your company strictly in moderation, you’re welcome, people I used to drunk text. I’m pretty sure over 50% of the area code 325 entries on TFLN are from me.

Chocolate…I am starting to see a theme here…it’s almost like I want to fail at being Catholic.

Taco Bell…oh dear readers, my love of the Bell is no secret to you all. Last year, I decided to try and up the ante and be healthier with my food choices considering I worked really odd hours. I ate Toxic Hell about three times a week back then, and the decision to give it up was carefully calculated. And I’m proud to say, I did it. Even when my coworkers would bring in the Bell and I had to resist the urge to kill them and eat their burrito, I stayed strong. I abstained from cheesy potatoes until I thought I was going to die. And after Lent was over, I went out, had far too much vodka, and ended up at a Taco Bell for what I might vaguely recall, was one of the best meals I have ever eaten in my life. But I lasted the 40 days! I am finally heading in the right direction. When I’m at those Pearly Gates, I will pinpoint that year of Lent in particular to try and smooth things over.

In keeping with last year’s theme (and prepping for bikini season) I have decided to give up fast food for Lent this year. So as I am preparing a healthy meal of soy-lemon baked pork chops earlier, my mother shoots me a picture message from their road trip to Texas…innocent enough…until I realize the picture is of Chick-fil-a, undoubtedly the best fast food experience EVER. Even over Taco Bell. Quite frankly, if I still lived in Texas I would give up all fast food BUT Chick-fil-a…because they’re good christianly folks who close Sundays so we can take a break from greasy fried chicken goodness and roll our asses into church.


And on the other side of the coin, here are things I wouldn’t mind giving up for 40 days but I fear would be “frowned upon:”
-Shaving
-Wearing makeup
-Manners
-Any and all media coverage of Charlie Sheen
-Michigan driving

My boyfriend has decided to give up shaving for “Mustache March.” It’s an Air Force thing. I told him he should be glad I live clear across the country because if I had to look at him with a hipster pedo stache I’d shave it in his sleep.

..........................................

On a completely unrelated note, I am done with my evil 50 page research project I have been working on the past six weeks, and will be staying put in Michigan for a couple months. So now that my traveling and workload have essentially been nixed, expect to see much more of me. Instead of a ghost of a distant, somewhat funny, but mostly awkward memory, I will be annoying your blogstream at least two times a week. That is a promise. And it's not the vodka talking.


Kat Von Smirnoff just doesn't have quite as nice a ring to it.

"This is Texas...everyone has a gun. My florist has a gun!"

Translation: I have seen something quite like this video happen in real life. And yes, it only makes me miss Texas even more...

Original Video - More videos at TinyPic

If even a chuckle does not arise or a smirk grace your mug after you've watched that video, you've probably never been to the South.

Small update- I just got back from Florida Tuesday, and leave for New Mexico again tomorrow. Along with all the traveling and trying to write my dissertation my head is about to explode and sarcasm creativity has ceased to flow through my veins. As soon as the next two weeks are over, I expect to be back to my less hectic, regularly scheduled programming. So if my blogging is scarce, you know why!

Hope everyone has a wonderful weekend. Back to the warm sunny South tomorrow!

Welcome to the Sunshine state...

Translation: I can feel my face again!!!

So I bring tidings from Bradenton, FL...which looks like this:


And compared to what I am used to:


...It just doesn't seem possible that these two places can exist in the same country, let alone planet. Personally I think winter should be illegal. Apparently that "inconvenient truth" Al Gore told us about was nothing more than a lie to anyone living in the Midwest.

Anyway, I've gotten to see some pretty awesome stuff since I've been here, and even pet a stingray today at the aquarium because I was experiencing one of those rare instances some people call "being adventurous." And it felt like silly putty, no lie (the stingray- not my sense of adventure. Close though).

My only gripe about Florida is that every drink doesn't come with a tiny souvenir umbrella in it. I mean, this place is in a constant state of spring break, it's a crime I tell you! Also, Florida- how bout you share the wealth? I've seen more Lambo's, Ferrari's, and Maserati's in the past 24 hours than I ever did at the flippin' Detroit Auto Show. WHAT DO YOU PEOPLE DO FOR A LIVING? Seriously, everyone living in this state can't possibly be a plastic surgeon.

Either way, I think we all know I'm just glad I'm on the opposite side of the state that season 2 of Jersey Shore was filmed on. But occasionally when I catch a whiff of stanky ocean air...I shudder and think about the crimes committed upon Florida beaches when gallons of hair gel, spray tan, and the herp were introduced to the ocean by the cast. Coincidentally, didn't the BP oil leak occur at about the same time? Clearly BP was just trying to fight fire with fire.

I'm off to find an umbrella to stick in my bottle of Miller, and perhaps a crazy straw. If you don't hear from me by next week, know I've found a bar that caters to both these requirements, and may never set foot in Michigan ever again.

"I had arrived at the airport one hour early so that, in accordance with airline procedures, I could stand around."

Translation: I am well versed in the hurry up and wait method.

It has been awhile since my blog and I have had the fortune of spending some time together. I just returned to Michigan after spending a (colder than I'd like) week in New Mexico with my boyfriend for our anniversary. In three days I will be return to the Detroit airport to fly to (a hopefully sunny) Florida.

Either way, my body has been and will be through more TSA scans than I'd ever care to take part in. Its awkward you know somewhere someone is looking at you and your entire body leaving little to the imagination, but it is outright cringe worthy during the 30-60 seconds you have to wait while there is TSA agent all up in your personal space bubble receiving information over your body scan in his headset. I tried making small talk during this encounter but it only seemed to cheapen the experience as I stood there doe eyed, striped pink fuzzy socks exposed for the terminal to see (fortunately the body scan was not, and bonus- I actually wore a pair of matching socks for once).

Four days after returning from Florida and a couple work assignments, it will be back to the airport to return to New Mexico, this time around to take care of my boyfriend after he gets his wisdom teeth yanked out of his head. Lucky for him, I make a mean batch of jello. Unlucky for him, we have a three hour drive to and from the place where he is having his surgery.

Why is that unlucky? Not because I am a spastic traveler- but because he drives a stick shift. The Von Devious is a lazy American who hasn't driven a manual transmission car in like 6 years. I am going to have to duct tape his head to the headrest to keep him from jerking around and bashing his head in whilst I stall out and he succumbs to a Vicodin induced stupor (jeaaaaalous).

I'm told re-learning how to drive a stick is similar to riding a bike. Yet another thing I haven't done in almost a decade. I am accident prone and impatient, so this should provide excellent fodder for a new blog post. I am going to turn what I perceive will be an epic test of my boyfriend's ability to handle me during a melt down into a positive experience. If anyone knows of a stock car simulator in the Detroit area, fill me in. I'd like to make this a far less humiliating and invasive experience than going through airport security will be...


I wonder when I can add TSA to my PPO?

I'm not confused...I'm just well mixed.

Translation: Dear readers, there are aspects of this life that genuinely baffle me (surprisingly it doesn't happen as often as you might think...especially since I can't blame the lack of understanding on blonde hair anymore). So I ask you the following questions...

1. Why the hell are glasses and contacts so expensive?! I got a new pair of glasses yesterday (RIP glasses I wore for 10 years), and I'm not talking "baller status" glasses- just a nice pair of DKNY's and a 5 minute exam...well over 300 bucks for the whole shebang. As if the good people at Lenscrafter's just wanted to say, "thank you for having terrible eye sight so we can reap the benefits." To that I say, you're most welcome...Lord knows I wanted to be BLIND. Because it's totally comforting to know in the middle of the night when something makes a sudden noise and I wake up I could be face to face with a serial killer and I'd be none the wiser. Hooray for my misshapen corneas!

2. Does my life belong on the D-list? This is a sub-rant about my experience at Lenscrafter's. I was told by a worker that I look like Kathy Griffin. I will be dying my hair a darker shade of red immediately, but I'm not sure I will ever be able to recover from said statement. Even though the woman who made that comment bore a striking resemblance to Tonya Harding (in lieu of repeatedly beating my knee caps she instead cold clocked my pride).

3. This is more of an observation that confuses me and not really a question, but I just finished watching the movie "Going the Distance." It was funny (God bless Charlie Day and Jim Gaffigan), but in all seriousness, being in a long distance relationship is not nearly as hard as shows and films make them out to be. Because if you truly love someone, that feeling transcends the miles. It can be so unbelievably frustrating to be apart, but patience is key...and is also something most people just don't have when it comes to relationships I suppose. I've been in a long distance relationship for almost 2 years. Is it ideal? No. I would love to be able to fall asleep next to the man I love every night. But right now I do not get to...so it makes the time we do get to spend together mean that much more. In a way I feel very fortunate, because I know we do not take each other for granted the way other people who see each other every day have a tendency to do.

4. Now, on a completely different note- why can't every diet be this awesome?


5. Is the apocalypse about to hit, or what? I'm told the snow storm of death is sweeping the country. My hometown virtually shut down due to icing and probably 3 centimeters of snow (huge deal in West Texas) and we're looking at getting two feet over night here in Michigan. People are scrambling to the grocery store to buy food in a manner reminiscent of Y2K (Yes, we survived) or a zombie apocalypse (in which case you should buy ammo, not bread). I'm going to be on the look out for locusts and frogs...because even if it is 10 degrees outside I'm told they're excellent indicators that the end of the world is upon us. And I'm sorry, but all this talk of the world ending...I can't NOT post this:



I know I've snuck that video into an older blog post, but dammit...it's so funny I sincerely hope if the world ends tonight it goes down a little something like that. But if it could kindly hold off and clear up by Saturday (so as not to disrupt my flights), that would be great.

"It is all that AND a bag of chips...in that it contains a bag of chips..."

Translation: Leave it to Stephen Colbert to redeem Taco Bell. If you missed this on his show the past week, totally worth the 4 minutes of your time (don't act like you have anything better to do...you're already on my blog which means you're either killing time at work, or killing time while your Farmville loads).

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
Gordita Supreme Court
www.colbertnation.com
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor & Satire Blog Video Archive

I'd like to think I inspired Stephen (I'd also like to note here it is quite obvious I suffer from illusions of grandeur). I'll be skipping the tacos for dinner tomorrow in lieu of homemade lasagna. Yes- she cooks as excellently as she blogs, folks. Hope everyone has a wonderful weekend! I'm sure I'll find the inspiration to blog about something other than Toxic Hell before my vacation. So many ridiculous things happen around here inspiration pretty much knocks on the door, comes in, and has a few beers with me before making a complete ass of itself. Happy Saturdazzle, readers!

I often wondered what was really in a chalupa...

Translation: I've been hit with some news from MSNBC today that shook me to my very core...the headline reads: "Alabama law firm to Taco Bell: That's not beef." (Shout out to Lauren from Notes from the Clarinet- I hope you don't like the Taco Bell in Alabama all that much...)

Anyway, after reading the article I am told Taco Bell's (or as I lovingly refer to it, Toxic Hell) "beef" is really only made up of about 35% beef, 65% random assortment of things you probably never really wanted to know you willingly put in your body.

Reading that article pretty much made me want to throw up everything I've ever eaten from Taco Bell. I am a die-hard fan of their food. It is quite possibly the best way to cure the weekend bender hangover. Hands down. Probably because it causes all the alcohol remaining in your system to reroute itself to fight off the diseases the "feef" (fake beef) ingestion is causing you and your poor internal organs.


Imposter! No wonder you're less than a dollar- YOU'RE NOT REALLY MADE OF COW.


No one is suing Toxic Hell, they just want them to quit with the false advertising. So instead of Taco Bell claiming they use real seasoned ground beef in their food, their slogan could read something along the lines of: "Taco Bell: We don't really know what it's made from either." Or "Fourthmeal: when you're drunk at 2 A.M. you won't even notice it's not real beef."

This makes me very sad inside. It also makes me want to do a full body cleanse. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get some KFC. Because I'm almost 100% positive that really is chicken. Happy eating, readers.

"The ice caps are melting, Leonard. In the future, swimming won't be optional."*

Translation: In the past 48 hours I have experienced what I shall refer to as “the bipolar weather effect on humanity” or more simply put “More proof Mother Nature owns us all.”

Let me set the scene…

On Saturday it was about 5 degrees, snow would not stop falling, negative wind chill with breezes averaging in the 30mph zone. The sky was gray, the cold air pummeled through me with a force I’d imagine similar to being sacked by Jared Allen (however in that event I’d hope the ending would be very different).

On Sunday (also known as “today”) it was still only about 8 degrees. BUT- there was no more blizzard. The skies were clear and BLUE (I had forgotten that is what color the sky is supposed to be), the sun was shining, reflecting upon the snow and making it glisten like the largest of Cartier diamonds..mmm sparkley…I even saw a Blue Jay land on the tree outside my dressing room window. It was like a scene from Bambi. You know, before the horror ensued.

Ok, thanks to my elaborate capabilities as a writer, the scene has been painted. Why you ask? Because in the past 48 hours I have seen people go from acting like complete jerks (you'd think everyone who lived up here was French. Don't get all defensive, I'm French Canadian in heritage I can hate all I want), to the politest members of society (think British).

On Saturday I nearly got body slammed in a Walmart, ran over in a parking lot (SURPRISE- also at the Walmart), and dealt with what I have to assume were people who did not understand the meaning of a stop sign.

On Sunday I had a man hold the door OPEN for me at the library, was assisted by the politest staff member to ever work the self check area at Meijer, and the roads were smooooooth sailing in my mother’s new Cadillac.

I guess the point I’m trying to make here is: WINTER- YOU RUIN EVERYTHING. I don’t ski, I don’t snowboard, ice fishing has got to be the stupidest excuse for drinking beer EVER (hint- you never need an excuse to crack a cold one), and I sadly do not own a snowmobile.

However, I like wearing bikinis, swimming pools, boating (or drinking beer in a docked boat), running, generally being able to feel my face while I’m outside, and never fearing if my car will suddenly decide it no longer likes the road and skids off to commit suicide on black ice…this has yet to happen but now that I’ve said it 5 bucks says I don’t make it to work tomorrow because I hit some.

I’m not the skinniest person in the world, but dammit I lack the layering to survive a winter this cold. So to cheer myself up from the winter funk I dyed my hair red. And will start packing for my trip to New Mexico for my second anniversary STAT. And then…Florida…here I come. And baby, you better show me some sunshine and alcoholic drinks with umbrellas in them so large they shade my pale ass from the sun. The wonderful, wonderful sun. From here on out this winter I live by the mantra: “Global warming…that would be a convenient truth.”


See this face: this is the face of a woman who knows in two weeks- she will be able to feel her toes at all times.


*If it were possible, I would only title my blog posts with quotes from Sheldon on "Big Bang Theory."

Man was formed for society. The Snuggie, however, was not.

Translation: I have officially lost all hope for humanity.

So I'm watching The Colbert Report the other day (which is probably the 2nd greatest show EVER), and Stephen plays a clip of THIS:


I have 5 things to say after viewing that commercial:
1. I never thought I'd see the day when wearing a Snuggie was not the worst/laziest/stupidest thing anyone could ever don.
2. Adults do not belong in public in an over glorified onesie.
3. Adults do not belong in public with OTHER adults all in an over glorified onesie.
4. It has butt flaps. BUTT FLAPS.
5. Oh. My. God.

I let a few days pass, tried to forget about the injustice the people at the Forever Lazy company (which I researched, and much to my dismay...actually exists)are pushing on to a society that is so lazy this thing is actually selling. And for $29.95 no less. No wonder America is in the red. But then it happened...I was watching last night's episode of Conan (in case you were wondering, this is the greatest show ever) and I viewed another video that was, for lack of a better term...a viral bitchslap to my soul...



The "*facepalm* heard 'round the world" occurred after I viewed this disgrace to humanity. I don't know if I will be able to stop shaking my head in shame by the time I have to go to work tomorrow...to educate our nation's youth. And if there's one thing I hope they learn from me after I've seen these videos, it's that it's NOT OK to dress like a 3 year old in public and generally act douche-tastically in front of other people.

This coming from the woman who is still in her fancy teacher clothes with a dingy old bathrobe on over it. But at least I'm doing it in the privacy of my own home.

"Writer's block is a fancy term made up by whiners so they can have an excuse to drink alcohol."

Translation: Steve Martin is a very wise man. I whole-heartedly agree with that sentiment. I went to bed thinking about an absolutely awesome, kick ass, change your life blog post...promptly fell asleep watching SNL and totally forgot about it...this is what happens when you watch Saturday Night Live. It causes memory loss.

So instead of the spectacularly mind blowing awesomeness I was going to bring you with my satirically hilarious sarcasm (just go with me on this one), I am instead going to bring you a clip of one of my all time favorite recurring SNL skits:



Just a reminder this show used to be funny...you're welcome. I promise you I will be back with some substantial ramblings of my own soon. But you know what? Its lazy Sunday...I am ready to relax, watch some football, procrastinate with my school work...and pray to God the sun shines for more than 5 minutes today. Quite frankly I'm too cold to bring my A game today. If anyone suggests I get a snuggie and "deal with it," I would kindly suggest you shove it where the sun don't shine...which could either be your ass, or any part of Michigan.

UPDATE: As you'll notice (oh's and ah's are acceptable), there is now a nav bar at the top of the blog with easy access (that's what she said) to my email, twitter, about, and blogger community pages. Yooouuuuu'rrrrre welcome.

There seems to be a robot uprising happening in my house...

Translation: And I'm hoping it's not of the "Maximum Overdrive" variety.

Over the course of the past few weeks I've noticed my house has been lacking it's usual "joie de vivre" coziness and instead has embraced an "all humans must die" mantra. Unfortunately the machines that seem to be eager to kill all humanoids look nothing like this:


Shirley Manson is the only killer robot I want in my house

And everything like this:


What a terrifying...dishwasher?

Yeah...about that...so this ridiculously overpriced (sorry Mom but it totally is) piece of equipment seems to no longer fall under human command. During its cycle, it beeps incessantly (perhaps to alert the other machines that the day is coming!!!). Short beeps, long beeps, blips, blops, whatever...it's a certain form of Morse code that is signaling impending doom. I have a feeling it makes certain it switches off the antibacterial mode during every wash to make sure we die a slow, painful, crusty plate filled death. That is, when the thing actually chooses to start. For the most part, I liken the dishwasher to a 73 Ford Pinto...if you can get it to start, it's a damn miracle.

Then there's our mammoth GE fridge with freezer drawer. I wanted a bowl of ice cream the other day, and although I am freakishly strong, I damn near burst through the carton while scooping my french vanilla goodness. Upon checking, the freezer had switched from the optimum setting of -2, to 32 degrees. My ice cream melty, lean cuisines not so...cuisiney, frozen ground beef and chicken, a breeding ground of evil and dysentery...

Damn...I thought this could only happen in Oregon, circa 1848?

Now, on the other side of the coin, this brings me to a machine that seems to want to work TOO well for our own good...the dreaded thermostat (gasp! the horror!). The other day it was unusually cold in the house, and my mother noticed the thermostat had reset itself thinking 30 degrees Fahrenheit was an appropriate temperature for a house to be. Perhaps if you are made of steel (I knew it was in cahoots with the freezer)? Yesterday, it's chosen temperature for a 3 story house was 60 degrees. Apparently it wanted to meet us in the middle, but only if the dishwasher didn't find out. I beg you for compassion, thermostat, I have but feeble, thin Texan blood...I need HEAT.

Which brings us to another piece of fine luxury living you should feel comforted by- the fireplace. I am terrified of the fireplace. Anything that constantly has a pilot light of a one foot diameter burning and can be flipped on with a switch- that just seems deadly. God forbid you accidentally, ahem, break wind, while flipping the switch- you could be a goner. Up in flames!

However, the fireplace is encased in glass. Because rich people want to be able to see through the flames without feeling the warmth, of course. It's the fancy alternative to just lighting your money on fire and watching it burn from 100 feet away. I digress... The glass hotbox of death was in terrible shape when my parents found this house. Apparently, the thing was a tomb of torture to birds who found their way in through the flue, but never could get back out...as my mother described it, I thought of the scene as something along the lines of "Saw 85- This One's for the Birds."

Bottom line- I only feel safe in my room with the trusty old laptop and vintage Sony. These machines are too old to have the wherewithal to want me dead. Plus they're on the second floor so I am fairly certain the aforementioned Terminators haven't gotten to them yet...

Today is my birthday, and I get one every year...

Translation: But alas, I type to you surrounded by tissues, and not tissue paper. Sick as a dog! Better compared to the last couple days, but after a shower and drying my hair, the will to get out of my bathrobe has left me.

Sickness aside, I am happy I have made it yet another year. And at this point I am usually too hungover from birthday shots to have any moments of definitive clarity, but thanks to this dayquil, I realize how far I've come these past 365. Drumroll, please...Kat Von Devious's reasons why I'm not such a horrible human being anymore (a.k.a, hate to see you go, 23):

1. In the past year I've realized sometimes you have to move home in order to grow up (SEE ALSO: Vodka isn't always the answer; the booze paradox). In moving to Michigan to live with my parents and focus on my master's program, I realized there's a whole hell of a lot more to life than dollar drinks on Tuesdays. Anyone under the age of 23 might disagree, wait til you hit 24...you'll know exactly what I'm talking about.

I've got a level of clarity I never could've found in my dear old friend vodka. I am sure of my career, my relationships, and where I would like to go from here. I no longer wander from bar to bar looking like a lost puppy in need of free Vegas Bombs. Although, they're always welcome.

2. Patience really is a virtue, but I will never be graceful (SEE ALSO: I'm eloquent when not ACTUALLY putting my foot in my mouth). As a teacher in training this has never been clearer to me than when I am in charge of 200ish teenagers for 7 hours each day. I didn't ever fancy myself patient, but lordy when you need it- I realized I got quite a bit. An amount that has and will surely, make me one hell of an educator when I have my own class. Which brings me to...

3. Maybe children aren't so bad (SEE ALSO: Keep plenty of sanitizer on hand). Aside from rampant illness, I've become quite fond of children over the age of 10. Don't get me wrong, I still have very little mothering instincts and need to focus on being able to raise a plant before I ever have any of my own...but those little ankle biters just aren't so bad after all. Of course, knowing I have the power to ship people to the principal's office if the moment calls for it also helps immensely here.

4. The customer is not always right (SEE ALSO: Reasons why I will never again work customer service). After I quit working for a certain well known shipping company this past year (legally, we're not allowed to name names), I have never been happier. Never again will people tell me I ruined Christmas because they brought their packages in late, or expect me to deliver it myself (let me gain 300 pounds, put on a red suit, and find some reindeer real quick because I am committed to your shipping services!!!).

If there's one thing I learned working customer service for a year (and waiting tables for over 6)- it is that 98% of the time, my dear customer - YOU ARE DEAD WRONG. I merely shake my head when I am waiting in line behind people who think they are of great importance, enough to be a complete jerk to the poor kid trying to earn wages behind the counter doing a way better job than they ever could. Also, the first rule of food service is never piss off the person handling your food...the same should also be applied for any and all customer service related encounters. We can really mess up your flow.

So I'll always be a goofball, but now I am a much more responsible one. Less booze, more books!

In the upcoming year I hope to get better at letting go of grudges, but an elephant never forgets! Haha. I also would like to maintain and improve all of the relationships I have with friends and family, but in particular, my sister. She and I have always been night and day, but as we get older, we grow closer.

I also hope to remain the steadfast girlfriend in a long distance relationship with an amazing man (coming up on 2 yrs in Feb!). This first starts with a seemingly simple thing- to stop thinking I am fat because it drives him crazy. I know I probably weigh about a buck 15, but I have a chub monster who lives in my head (and really loves cake). Other than that, I will continue being a loyal and devoted, kick ass, beer drinking, sports loving, firecracker of a significant other. He deserves the best of the best!

Now if you will excuse me, I am off to nap heavily and hope to be awakened in time for cake and feel slightly less like roadkill. Because when in doubt, on one's birthday, it all boils down to cake or death, anyway...



Update:
I am becoming increasingly spoiled by my aforementioned one hell of a boyfriend:

I am so in love with chivalry. Roses are the best gift a man could ever give a woman!

They say you can't go home again.

Translation: unless it is the will of the Gods, of course.

So I just got back from a 5 day stay in Texas...where it was a tropical 75 degrees for the most part...and today I wake up to snow. Needless to say it is 1 p.m. and I am still in my bathrobe, unable to muster up the energy it would require to take a 3 minute shower.

This could be because:
A) My allergies and sinuses are killing me/jet lag is a cruel mistress
B) I drank my own weight in beer this past weekend
C) Michigan is depressingly gray
OR D) All of the above

Now, I had an incredibly kick ass time with my crazy friends (who I almost caused massive coronaries to when I ordered water at a bar..sorry I am a pansy now), and an even better time when my boyfriend, whom I had not seen for 5 months, surprised me and came into town. I am so very lucky to have a significant other who knows how to keep me on my toes! I throw myself a lot of pity parties up here in Detroit, but dammit, I have some amazing people in my life that truly love me and I would be so lost without. For that I am grateful!

And on an extremely embarrassing note, it's time for a short anecdote (I love mocking myself). I know that the sun only shines for about 5 minutes during the day up here, but did not realize the toll it had taken on my already translucent skin...I got a sunburn while driving from Denton, TX to San Angelo, TX...which is only a 4 1/2 hour drive. My body is so unused to sun I got burned in a CAR WITH TINTED WINDOWS. On the plus, I didn't look like a corpse in any of my New Year's pictures. Just like I had lost a gallon or two of blood and maybe needed a ham sandwich. I'll take an upgrade where I can get it folks.

Annnnnd I am already homesick for Texas. Miss all the wonderful people and even the crappy little town I grew up in. Men held open doors, people gave courtesy waves on the highway, and not once did I feel it was possible I could be shanked. Southern hospitality is the way to go! Time to implement phase two of "get the Kat out of Detroit." Anyone know how high the lotto is going for up here these days?

Well, I've slept off what I hope to be the worst hangover I have in 2011 and now its time for that ham sandwich. God speed, readers...here's to a new year and another chapter in the chronicles of Kat Von Devious.