Sunday, September 22, 2013

You betta Twerk...

Does feeling grateful cancel out guilt? (My mom just bought me a friggin' MacBook Air) Is everything really that "AMAZING"? (It's just an avocado people) and why is it the more "stuff" I have the less happy I feel? (totally annoying) It's an old story , but easy to forget (when you are surrounded by so much cool freakin "stuff"....right?)

I'm unbelievably fortunate these days. Everything is coming up Haley- Kate to the MAX. I should be dancing on tables at KFC singing Marvin Fucking Gaye. A lot of days I really am doing that (in my head)  but yesterday I couldn't help I really happier? Shit, I think I'm now full of anxiety for not feeling happy ENOUGH. Would this have been an issue 50 years ago? Absofuckinglutely not. FirstWorldWhiteGirlProblems (hashtag)

Last night having ice cream (oreo cheesequake with a scoop of skor half stirred hollaaa)  I was listing off all of my "amazing" life news (to one of my besties) annnd it's sort of unbelievable. To give you the gist : Major financial wins,  Exciting work opportunities,  A luxe beach vacation booked for Christmas,  Fulfilling human relations, a home I love not to mention a new A MacBook (and AppleTV!),  four closets full of clothes, accessories, jewelry and make-up. A gorgeous new juicer,  a stocked wine cellar...

I mean.....RIGHT?!

All that AND I'm meditating 20 minutes a day AND I finally cut my long (security blanket) HAIR. So why am I not BURSTING WITH ZEN already?!?! I think It's because I'm too busy trying to multi task and analyze the shit out of everything. Not to mention update my Facebook status, Tweet brilliance, Instagram like a boss and text back 52 of my closest friends.  

I think it's also because I'm the opposite of moderate. Maybe. I'm also not really that analytical. 

This isn't to say every area of my life is a Disney Princess party. There were many heartbreaking, soul crushing and just generally sucky things that have happened over the past six months. Life is like that. 

Finding a balance (and also my actual balance :)) is difficult for me. Right now I'm typing this whilst surrounded by 6 (large) loads of laundry and a staggering (mental) "To Do" list. I'm typing this to avoid the cleaning/list which of course is INSANE because anyone who knows me knows I barely function in a messy house. See now I'm going to start analyzing again. (WHY?)  I have a great life. A wonderful life.  Some might say blessed. 

I guess what I'm really trying to say is : Us First World White Girls need to get a grip.


Ps. Thanks Mom I love my laptop (and my appleTV) 


Friday, November 23, 2012

Jesus had a Mo, No?

I love Movemebr. It screams of dirty sexy awesomeness!!
Any other month of the year you better believe I don’t wanna see that molester mo up in my area but the month before Christ eats cake is perfectly acceptable. Jesus had a mo. Not that I find Jesus particularly “dirty sexy” but…pretty awesome none the less.

I initially started blogging as a time-suck during my adventures in rehab. Well, the adventures continue and although I am now back to “functioning” it really never gets less interesting.
I am (supposed to) follow a strict gym regimen and follow up with my team of doctors every few months. I get to strut around in my funderpants, get hooked to electrodes and have multiple delicious vials of botulism shot into my crazy, crampy muscles. They usually will bring in a few med students so I have learned to:

1. Actually wear underwear and
2. Realize my mutated little foot is giving them a total geek-gasm so just grin and be a giver.

So anyway, the dude who hooked me up to the electrodes was seriously participating in Movember. I was “assuming the posish” on the “craftmatic” bed (in very fun funderpants) and in my most serious Napoleon Dynamite voice said:

“ I like your Mo”
The guy smiled big and laughed LOUD, so much so that I started laughing HYSTERICALLY. Everyone who knows me knows I cannot do voice impressions to save my life, and this Mo-Licious got it! I realize now he might not have actually “gotten it” and just thought I was mentally handicapped to boot but whateves. Sooo we chatted away for a bit and the Doctor arrived to “shoot me up” with the B-tox. For those who don’t understand: They inject the botulism stuff into my muscles to sort of “paralyze” them. So you know how Joan Rivers gets it to freeze her face? I get it to chill out my spastic muscles. Anyway, they put lots in my adductors (yup right next to my vag) and some in my calf and ankle. HOWEVER! This time they thought why not try putting some in the bottom of my foot. The Mo-Dynamite offered to hold down my leg (so I didn’t flinch when they put the needle in the sole of my foot) and he goes:

“Dude, you’re about to get 4 killer shots of botulism, while hooked to electrodes in your underwear, stop smiling, it’s weird”

Pretty funny Mister mustache. I guess it was sort of weird.

Anyway, I talked to another surgeon and they told me their deepest medical thoughts and checked out my new hip ex-rays. I cringed a bit because all I could see was my stupid belly ring that I “forgot” to remove and if you have ever seen one of those suckers on X-Ray film you know what I mean. It really STANDS out. Not that a belly piercing is anything to be embarrassed about but I know they ALSO all saw my 15 year old tramp stamp during the injections and I’m trying to be serious here. This is my business face. I’m puttin’ on my business socks. You know?

On that note I could take this opportunity to update ya’ll on my laser hair removal progress….but some things are sacred. Ha.

Long story short: I must amp up my physical fitness and get with the program (again). I have been half- heartedly working at it, but the injections make my muscles very very weak so I have to turbo try to compensate for that and also give up “Eat- your- face -off -Fridays” (and every other day ending in Y lately) Although my frame is small –and I generally keep my cookies in order – 5 extra pounds (of love) on me is like 30 to a normal (non- bionic) human. It’s pretty annoying really. So anyway the rehab doctor left me with these words of wisdom:

“ You are one tough little chicken now don't mess around and I’ll see you in the New Year”

Oh fuck. I could elaborate on how I feel re : the above statement… but won’t.
Also the irony of her calling me a “little chicken” was not lost on me. (super-sized big crunch please!!)

So I went “home” The flu promptly ensued shutting down my sketchy immune system therefore causing my kidneys to inflame and lots of other nasty little special effects. Therefore, I have been home, and decidedly jumping back on the blogger bus.
I have sooooo much more to report, but best go for now. I have a hot date with Magic Mike. Channing Tatum naked mid Movember makes me very happy.


Monday, February 27, 2012

Generally Crazy

A Brownie Batter Blizzard with an extra scoop of Oreo just saved my life.

I went through the drive though, in case my debit card declined so I could drive off quick with my giant cup of batter. Funny. I have managed to lose my credit card TWICE in a week and a half. Bar Tabs are always a bad idea. I had to leave the establishment a voice mail today and felt like the biggest life loser ever. Worse, a co-worker over heard me leaving the message. Awesome. I'm too ashamed to call the credit card company again, as they just replaced the card last week remember, so lets just cross our fingers that it's really just in my purse and my lasik is acting up or something.

Sooo I am happy to announce that all the shiny faced elliptical hogs have finally given up on their resolutions like the rest of us. It's so nice to be back to the gym with all the same old miserable, sweaty regulars. Speaking of giving up, I have whole heartedly failed at not hitting the snooze button, reading 3 different NewZ publishing's and anything and everything else I said I would "do in lieu of 2012" So friggin silly! Who was I kidding? The paper is BORING and makes my fingers black. Gross. I like hitting snooze, it's my morning "warm up" I can't even remember my third thing...Oh I think it was to "date smarter" - that deserves a collective hearty chuckle. Define smarter really? I didn't (really) make that one measurable, so whateves. No Pec Flexers though. That's something. We are only two months in, and I am doing better. Maybe this will be the one I keep.

While on the fitness topic here is a little cardio pet peeve: It never fails I choose the machine beside a "competitive gawker" You know the ones. The ones who legit think it's a competition AND because they are going "faster" than you then that means they are "winning" OK so heres the thing:

1. Every one goes faster than me. E V E R Y O N E. You are not winning. I'm limping for fuck sakes.

2. They are called INTERVALS you stupid, stupid A-hole.



Oh - here is a funny little snippet: So, last week I thought I would mix it up and go to the "other gym". I like to call this one the "sexy gym" as it's a co-ed meat ball extravaganza! (!!!) I am NOT a cute-sy fitness girl. AT ALL. I am there to do my deal, sweat my vag balls off and get outtie. SO I was finishing my cardio, stumbling to get the spray cleaner when this dude goes:

"Wow, good session"

I had my ear buds in (therefor could barely hear him over the pumpin Notorious BIG beats) was like:


Then realized he was referencing the fact that I had a sweaty ass and a purple face and instead of just smiling like a normal person and sayin "Yup!" I thought it was normal to say:

"Oh no, I'm always like this. I'm just generally sweaty"

WHAT?! I'm just generally sweaty?!? (true fact BTW) He gave me this confused smile and made a reference of that being "cute" That ain't cute at all you meatball! I am never going to the sexy gym again. Major flirting fail #972. I wasn't even trying to be funny. I'm just generally sweaty ok?

Ugh, and while on the topic of Fails...Remember I have minorly rear ended two vehicles in the past month?!?! One was in the K-Penny Ferry line up. It was dark. I was half dressed - I mean this is at 6am. Every one gets dressed in their car right?!? So that...sucked.

Well, I think it's about time to change into my naked and watch the Bachelor. This makes me happy and a bit sad. I need to find a room mate ASAP (to fund my generally irresponsible nature) Hmmm, I suppose this is me being RESPONSIBLE. It's just unfortunate that it is socially unacceptable to change into your naked with room mates. Unless they are the naked kind of room mate of course. Hmmm...

That would be "dating smarter" right?

Sleep tight! XO

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Are you... my Boo?

I'm having one of those Sunday nights that make you want to curl up and never go back to work, put on pants or really do ANYTHING that involves leaving your comfy, cozy bed.

I should be AMPED considering Psychological Spring is right around the corner. I should also be happily filling out my V-Tines (yes I do that at 31.5 years of age) but that seems like too much work. I should also be paying my bills, doing laundry, washing my dirty floor or even calling my Mother back, but that also seems like too much work. Even typing this is a bit laboring. I might have to just over dose on my $75 worth of Wal-Mart chocolate.

Is it too soon to say "over dose?"


Soooo...not long ago someone asked me if I had "a family" When I realized she meant one of "my own" (aka not my own Mom and Dad!) it struck me as HORRIFYING. Am I really that old? (yes!) Worse, do I look like someones mother?! (considering I never sleep, PROBABLY) Or almost WORSE someones WIFE? (no, definitely not)


I know that shouldn't be worse, but it seems worse to me. No offence to all you wonderful mothers and wives out there. I am sure you look at me and think "I would never want to be that single girl" and that's fine. I think the point, I am half heartedly, trying to make is:

Maybe what I thought I always wanted I don't actually want.

Honestly, that is pretty terrifying. You grow up thinking I am going to grow up, have a wonderful career, meet a gorgeous man, have beautiful babies and live happily ever after.

Then life happens.

I think I still want these things, but I certainly know these things are not going to make me "happy"

I am "happy" NOW.

I often feel like some of my married up friends cannot believe this is actually possible, but I have no desire to go home and "make supper" or have pre planned "date nights" That to me is scarier than being alone and even maybe infertile.

Then there are the people who think that I am just "making the best of an unfortunate situation" - These ones should be in line to die first. I believe it is more of a "Small Town" attitude, Not that I am "Big City" by ANY stretch, but lets not get off topic.

Just because I don't have a significant other or drooly off-spring does not make me less than you. It also doesn't mean there is anything "wrong" with me (although some may beg to differ) and on Valentines day I don't want ANY sympathy. I can pretty much guarantee my day will be spectacular, and if it isn't - I have no one to blame but myself. Isn't that true for every day anyway?

I'm not saying I don't WANT to meet a wonderful man. Let's not get silly here. I actually have met quite a few - However, when I actually end up dating one (for longer than 2.4 seconds) you will not hear me say "He makes me so happy" or "I finally feel complete" or "I just didn't realize what I was missing" because that just isn't so. I love living my own life, doing exactly what I want - all of the time, if that is what I want - at that time.

I have taken the time to realize what makes ME happy. It isn't someone else. Do I think someone (who also knows what makes them happy alone) would be a nice addition? absolutely.

I feel like this is turning into a cranky feminist after school special. That was not my intention. Everyone knows I ain't no feminist. Although, I sort of wish I was...

I have also given up on the notion I will one day feel like "a grown up" That whole thing is a myth. Sort of like the Tooth Fairy. We get older, but never really "grow up" To me this is a happy realization. My point being: Expect Valentines for the next 50 years.

Love & Kisses,


Sunday, January 1, 2012

A Vagillion Resollution

January 1st, 2012

Interesting how a simple date on the calender makes all you "Negative Nellie's" born again "Happy Pants". I'm a self proclaimed "happy pants" all year long thank you very much. That's a bit of an exaggeration as most of the time I'm either "faking out functional" or drunk. However, that's neither here nor there and what I REALLY mean is: Shut the fuck up you idiots.

Don't get me wrong, my toe gets tingly this time of year, I do like the thought of a "fresh start" I make thoughtful resolutions and even write lists. I just don't talk about it like a LAME ASS. Well...I talk about it to my besties a bit, but they already know what a lame ass I am. I think It's too late to save face around the people who have seen me dance to Rod Steward in my "I love mullets" panties.

Howevies! I am a people pleaser AND I also secretly love "THE SECRET" and if you don't know what that is - You win at life. Trust me. Don't read it, it will make you crazyballtastico. Point is, THE SECRET says: If you write it down, it will make it happen (or something like that?) So I'll indulge you in a few of my "brutes resolutes"

1. Actually READ two newspapers at least 4 times a week. Cover to cover. Not just browse my "lucky love days" in the horoscope section. My current event knowledge is embarrassingly pathetic.

2. Re-Learn how to SLEEP. Sleep is the new Sex - Nympho that! I'm tired of being tired. Tired of whining about being tired. Tired of taking sleep aids and waking up drugged and drooly faced until I chug 3 cold Americano's. I am going to do EVERYTHING possible to correct this problem naturally. If it means no late weekends for a while then so be it. If sleep is the new sex, lets get it on.

3. Hit the snooze button twice in the morning instead of seven times. Hopefully better sleeping will aid in this resolution. No more being frazzle frantic late every morning. Maybe, if I'm feeling REALLY motivated, I'll show up early so I can read the paper at my desk like an intelligent adult. Unlikely, but my hopes are high.

So lets see if I follow through. The first time you see me check in to "Liquorville" at 2am on facebook you have my full permission to call me a weak loser. You can also assume that this "sleep is the new sex" business is a farce. Not that "Liquorville" equals sex parse, but maybe I am drinking the celibacy away? Whatever.

Oh, and while on the topic of sex, celibacy and resolutions I am going to try and "Date Smarter". Whatever that even means? Earlier today my best friend reminded me of this little love tragedy:

"Remember you went on a date to KFC and the dude sat there and drank WATER while you horked a big crunch combo with gravy?!"

Yeah, That actually happened to me. He also "flexed his pex" when we embraced post binge. Seriously. I wanted to puke an entire bucket of erbs and spices all over his face. It was HIS idea to go there. I laughed, then cried all the way home.

Oh! and on a completely separate note - Guess WHAT? My World Vision Sponsor bambino hit the bricks! Like, left town! They can't find her or her fam. The letter informed me that her "Father may have taken them away to find work" - Likely story World Vision. Who the hell writes those letters anyway?! Jesus Heck. I was hoping for a full refund BUT included in my MIA letter was a new kid. She's not even as cute. So up went Dora #2 on the fridge. She is beside Dora #1. Even though the first one flew the coop, I want to ensure people think I sponsor not just ONE but two little urchins. I'm such a giver.

Oh and while on the topic of Mexico, I just returned. So YES, My loving, passive aggressive Father decided to allow his life failing daughter to come. Christmas was not cancelled! We have never spoken of his "I'm re thinking Mexico text" I think he knows it was a major parenting fail. I'm not saying I deserved an all expenses paid luxury vacation - as I sure as susie tipps didn't - but come on Gary, pick up your game a little.

So yes, Mexico: doing a fam jam vaca as an adult is a real eye opener. Especially when the booze is free flowing and by free flowing I mean chugged in massive quantities. One night my mother mistook the shower in my room to be the toilet. It was like looking in the mirror. Not that I mistake showers for toilets often, but I do sometimes fall up walk ways and am unable to get up. Sometimes. Full out dancing at 10am on the swim up bar was a highlight. The guacamole was heavenly. The sun was delicious. The "massage therapist" was a "GORGEOUS HUNK" (as per my Mother) Pretty sure he wasn't certified, but with that face? pshhhhhh who needs paper? Oh did I mention I didn't have to shave anything ONCE? Take that! laser hair removal rules! My dad also decided this was the perfect time to read "Wheat Belly" - you know, the anti wheat/flour bible? So every day at the buffet he would quip "Is this wheat free?" I wanted to kill him. It's your 7th slushy "Mandarin Sour" of the day and you are worried about the hamburger bun?! Pass the tequila please. My brother just smiled the entire week. He is much nicer than I am. He also put double shots of Baileys in his morning coffee's therefor nicer AND smarter. I am also going on record and stating orange is the new black. This tan is so George Hamilton.

Guess what else? 6 weeks until my favorite "holiday" of the year: PSYCHOLOGICAL SPRING!

2012 is here - lets just do the best we can to NOT make sleep the new sex, NEVER EVER "flex our Pex", Wear sunscreen, and dance on that bar - Happy Pants not required.


Friday, September 30, 2011

Psyc!... I mean Sike!....or I mean...


So I just clogged the toilet flooding my entire second floor bathroom. It trickled through the floor, down the wall, pooling in the front entrance. If this doesn't sum up my ENTIRE shit storm of a life then I just don't know what do.

I flushed rotting chili (note: It came from a Tupperware NOT my person) It was filled with mold. It was the only thing left in my fridge other than wine, beer and soda water.

Don't even get me started on why I actually went up two flights of stairs to flush the moldy beans. I have a bathroom right off of my kitchen.

I was running around my WREAK of a house (in a disgusting second hand boy sports tee) trying to clean it up when the door bell rang. It was World Vision. I almost fell to my knees and started whaling.

They were coming for a follow up visit. Oh God. I'm not wearing pants and smell like Eau de Chili toilette.

To make a long story short, I sponsored a child last month because they came to my door and sang Sarah McLaughlin for like 72 minutes straight. I can't feed myself little own some poor mini Mexican - HOWEVER sometimes I feel like I don't do enough charitable shit, so just gave in.

Have I mentioned I NEED A SPONSOR?!!!

Anyway. I ended up getting a picture in the mail, put it on my fridge, and I truly believe looking at that sweet little girl (that I cannot afford) every morning has chipped away at my sanity (not to mention soul) for the past month. I mean, How can I call and cancel?!! It's like - this 7 year old is all stoked, that she gets to eat one meal a day, to only get a SIKE!?!!! Just Jokin' maybe next time!!

Oh hi hell.

They were just inquiring if I had received all of my info and if I was interested in Christmas boxes or something or other. I literally started to silently hyperventilate and just murmured something about being sick.

My mother saw the picture on my fridge and was like "HAVE YOU LOST YOUR LOVING MIND?!?!! You have lost it, Oh my God!, You have Lost.Your.Mind. It has finally happened! Call your brother. Oh.My.God."

Yup. I haven't been to work all week. It all started with insane puking and ended in peeing blood. The garbage in between is both disturbing, disgusting and truly devastating. So I digress.

Speaking of Mexico. My family and I are supposed to go for Christmas. How IRONIC. I have to renew my passport. Passport photo's are totes comical right? I found my old room mates passport pics a couple months ago. They earned a spot on my fridge next to Dora. That little darling.

When my Mom had her pic done the chick at Sears was like:

"Ma'am You have to open your eyes"

Mom: " They are open honey - you just can't see them because I'm wrinkled and fat"


Upon completion, she went on to tell my Father:

"With Pictures like these we shouldn't be aloud in our OWN Country for Christ sake"

For the record my Mother is beautiful with a big smile and deep set eyes so sometimes they disappear a bit. Come on Sears chick. Get a clue.

So anyway, THAT said...My FATHER drops me a text this morning saying: "I'm really disappointed in you, I'm re-thinking Mexico"

Really?!!! This is my life?!!

Dude. I'm 31 and my punishment for being an utter life failure is not going to Mexico with my parents like a huge loser?! This made me laugh. I definately do NOT deserve a Corona Christmas. Everyone knows that. It's just to have your Father call you out via text when you are 31 - it sort of rips your heart out. If said heart
hadn't been workin overtime - You know, pissin out blood all week - I may have thought twice before putting this in a blog.

Well, Cheers to the freakin' Weekin'! (cause that's the only way it actually rhymes yo!) Everyone I know is a mess, a wreak. At least we're all in it together. If you have your shit together right now I don't even want to know you. Unless you are going to deliver cake and are uglier than me. Like, both at the same time. Just kidding, of course. Pretty people can bring me cake too. Just don't look at me.

Seriously, anyone who knows ANYTHING knows I am one of the luckiest. I'm just trying to make the rest of you feel better becaaaaaause I'm thoughtful AND sweet AND not at all selfish and feeling sorry for myself.

Much Meep-y Love,


Ps. For all of you looking for a "laser hair removal update" --
I ain't got one. I'm too busy feeding the fucking world :)

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Hipster Cows say Mooh

I'm the kind of person who puts the frying pan in the dishwasher expecting it to actually come out clean. The Egg-y omelet pan. I figure one of these days it's gonna wash off. There is this one SPOON (covered in boiled egg cement) that I have put through the cycle 4 times. Every time I do it, I'm not sure why I'm bothering, but I guess it's easier than actually taking the 22 seconds to wash by hand - and now it's become a "lets see how many times I will let this go on" sort of brain game.

I planned on being productive this evening but one thing led to butter chicken (with a side of gossip) and now I think the curry is burning a hole in my stomach. I'm not sure what went wrong, but I drank a half a bottle of pepto and am afraid to move more than my fingers. I have an iron tummy for frig sakes. This never happens. Ugh. Hopefully I'm not getting Irritable Bowel in my old age. That would suck.

Tomorrow ends my week long Birthday celebrations. I am sure many are relieved. My brothers early morning Text from out West:

"Holy Shit you're old. I'll call you later when you have had time to sober up and realize it - Happy Birthday Hayla" (the bastard was tongue tied as a child)

For an entire week I have eaten cake at every meal, drank wayyyy too many cocktails and sang along with a few too many "Happy Birthday to youuuuu's" My wonderful friends and family humor my silliness, which makes me smile, but I think I need some straight up veggie juice and a good cry. I need to even out all the "sweet sticky happy frosting" with a few "green sludgy fibre tears" Find my center maybe?

Then again...I mean speaking of eggs, sore tummies and getting's probably hormones. Fucking hormones. A dude suggested I was pre menopausal the other day (I'm a sweaty bitch in the morning) and I almost ripped his dick off (through his pants) Then again, I have my cycle mapped out to the near minute and my IPhone actually dings (yes, like - "Dings!") when I ovulate. It's pretty amazing as I truly believe I can feel the whole show (gross?) Anyhow, The Egg timer went off at work and a fellow employee actually called me on's like "Oh, you got a text, or wait - you are ovulating!" Pretty sure that's not work place appropriate. The reason that certain employee knows I have an "Egg Timer App" is a whole other shiteroo. Is this where I am suppose to digress?! Fucking hormones.

Back to the delicious Butter Chicken....As I type I am CERTAIN the curry poison has taken over my entire body - I still wouldn't take it back. I'm blaming the permanent hang over for making me eat EVERY SINGLE feeling I have felt this week. Blech. The entire Cherry Chip Cake was a bit much - Even for my super sized, often slightly exaggerated and irrational feelings. Ooh I have Lindor's in the freezer...

My Mother doesn't help matters. She gave me this yellowed old fashioned looking card for my birthday. Inside it says:

Dearest Haley Kathleen,

(then a cute n' sweet poem that I'll spare you)

- I'm not that cheap that I couldn't buy you a card. This is a card my Mother gave me when I turned 31. When she gave it to me she couldn't remember my name or the date so she just gave it to me blank. (my Granny had Alzthimers) So in a way this is from me and your Grandmother. What an OLD card eh?

I love you baby girl - Your MaMa

At first I laughed, then I cried - a bit uncontrollably.

It think this is where the entire cake came in.

Anyway, I shouldn't have brought that up. I'm going to get the Lindor's and an Extra Strengh Muscle Relaxer. Ooh, I think I'll start up the dish washer too! - Round 5 - Baby, I'm feelin' lucky!