tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15745791484005373362024-03-13T10:18:37.788-03:00Confessions of a Hot Mess in RehabSome call it Drama...I call it life.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.comBlogger69125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-91801033785680324582013-09-22T14:48:00.001-03:002013-09-22T14:48:25.886-03:00You 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?)<div>
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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 thinking...am 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)</div>
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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...</div>
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I mean.....RIGHT?!</div>
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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. </div>
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I think it's also because I'm the opposite of moderate. Maybe. I'm also not really that analytical. </div>
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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. </div>
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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. </div>
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I guess what I'm really trying to say is : Us First World White Girls need to get a grip.</div>
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Kisses!</div>
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Ps. Thanks Mom I love my laptop (and my appleTV) </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-8722147028261247422012-11-23T18:01:00.001-04:002012-11-23T18:21:48.455-04:00Jesus had a Mo, No?I love Movemebr. It screams of dirty sexy awesomeness!! <br />
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.<br />
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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.<br />
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: <br />
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1. Actually wear underwear and<br />
2. Realize my mutated little foot is giving them a total geek-gasm so just grin and be a giver.<br />
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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: <br />
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“ I like your Mo”<br />
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:<br />
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“Dude, you’re about to get 4 killer shots of botulism, while hooked to electrodes in your underwear, stop smiling, it’s weird” <br />
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Pretty funny Mister mustache. I guess it was sort of weird.<br />
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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?<br />
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On that note I could take this opportunity to update ya’ll on my laser hair removal progress….but some things are sacred. Ha.<br />
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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:<br />
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“ You are one tough little chicken now don't mess around and I’ll see you in the New Year”<br />
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Oh fuck. I could elaborate on how I feel re : the above statement… but won’t.<br />
Also the irony of her calling me a “little chicken” was not lost on me. (super-sized big crunch please!!)<br />
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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.<br />
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. <br />
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XOXOXOX - HalesAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-90925500231417335192012-02-27T19:34:00.005-04:002012-02-27T21:10:16.707-04:00Generally CrazyA Brownie Batter Blizzard with an extra scoop of Oreo just saved my life. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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:<br /><br />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.<br /><br />2. They are called INTERVALS you stupid, stupid A-hole. <br /><br />3. I UNDERSTAND IT LOOKS LIKE I AM CRAWLING BUT THAT IS BECAUSE I AM ON LEVEL 900 AND YOU ARE STILL ON LEVEL 2. CHECKING ON MY SPEED AND CALORIE COUNTER EVER THREE SECONDS ISN'T MAKING YOU MY TEAM MATE. KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ASS OF THE PERSON IN FRONT OF YOU. <br /><br />really. <br /><br />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:<br /><br />"Wow, good session" <br /><br />I had my ear buds in (therefor could barely hear him over the pumpin Notorious BIG beats) was like:<br /><br />"Huh?"<br /><br />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:<br /><br />"Oh no, I'm always like this. I'm just generally sweaty" <br /><br />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?<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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... <br /><br />That would be "dating smarter" right?<br /><br />Sleep tight! XOAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-13040437544916275052012-02-12T19:01:00.004-04:002012-02-12T20:40:20.313-04:00Are 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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />Is it too soon to say "over dose?"<br /><br />(yes) <br /><br />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)<br /><br />Fuck. <br /><br />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: <br /><br />Maybe what I thought I always wanted I don't actually want. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />Then life happens. <br /><br />I think I still want these things, but I certainly know these things are not going to make me "happy"<br /><br />I am "happy" NOW.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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?<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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...<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Love & Kisses, <br /><br />HPAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-85289236892105019942012-01-01T23:02:00.006-04:002012-01-02T01:25:30.352-04:00A Vagillion ResollutionJanuary 1st, 2012 <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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" <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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:<br /><br />"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?!" <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />Guess what else? 6 weeks until my favorite "holiday" of the year: PSYCHOLOGICAL SPRING! <br /><br />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. <br /><br /><br />XOXXOXOXOX!!!!!!!!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-38560557693660849712011-09-30T13:45:00.017-03:002011-09-30T15:49:09.942-03:00Psyc!... I mean Sike!....or I mean...Yeah. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />They were coming for a follow up visit. Oh God. I'm not wearing pants and smell like Eau de Chili toilette. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />Have I mentioned I NEED A SPONSOR?!!! <br /><br />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!! <br /><br />Oh hi hell.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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."<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />When my Mom had her pic done the chick at Sears was like: <br /><br />"Ma'am You have to open your eyes" <br /><br />Mom: " They are open honey - you just can't see them because I'm wrinkled and fat"<br /><br />Golden.<br /><br />Upon completion, she went on to tell my Father:<br /><br />"With Pictures like these we shouldn't be aloud in our OWN Country for Christ sake"<br /><br />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.<br /><br />So anyway, THAT said...My FATHER drops me a text this morning saying: "I'm really disappointed in you, I'm re-thinking Mexico" <br /><br />Really?!!! This is my life?!! <br /><br />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<br />hadn't been workin overtime - You know, pissin out blood all week - I may have thought twice before putting this in a blog.<br /><br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Much Meep-y Love, <br /><br />Hales<br /><br />Ps. For all of you looking for a "laser hair removal update" -- <br />I ain't got one. I'm too busy feeding the fucking world :)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-36706445883378627892011-07-21T18:57:00.003-03:002011-07-21T20:59:15.264-03:00Hipster Cows say MoohI'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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />Tomorrow ends my week long Birthday celebrations. I am sure many are relieved. My brothers early morning Text from out West:<br /><br />"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) <br /><br />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? <br /><br />Then again...I mean speaking of eggs, sore tummies and getting old...it'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 it....it'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. <br /><br />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...<br /><br />My Mother doesn't help matters. She gave me this yellowed old fashioned looking card for my birthday. Inside it says: <br /><br />Dearest Haley Kathleen, <br /><br />(then a cute n' sweet poem that I'll spare you) <br /><br />- 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?<br /><br />I love you baby girl - Your MaMa<br /><br />At first I laughed, then I cried - a bit uncontrollably. <br /><br />It think this is where the entire cake came in.<br /><br />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!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-52730966184159926512011-06-14T20:01:00.008-03:002011-06-14T22:10:38.054-03:00Hate-orade, Hate-cation, Hate-ville, Hate-isms.My attitude has taken a wrong turn. <br /><br />I usually can get myself back to my "happy place" in a matter of minutes, hours, or sometimes it takes a few days - but I have been in a bad way for a few weeks now. I don't know how people live like this - It's terrible. Depressed might be too strong of a word, but this is a definite funk that I'm not down with. I'm almost happy that the weather has been brutes because being miserable in the sunshine (especially in Saint John) is like wearing pantyhose 2 sizes too small. Fucking tragic.<br /><br />My grumbly mumbles, cranky pants, and jump-out-the-window-itus, is a bit of a downer - yes, however! Lets make the best of this little shiteroo and take some time to make fun of others not as awesome as the rest of us shall we?<br /><br />This is what I hate about others and the world in general - this week:<br /><br />1. Over-ly Cheery "Morning People" - I'm happy you CLEARLY got laid a mere hour ago, but I think you can tell, from my forced smurk, that I didn't. So really, just lock it up already and let me get my coffee in peace.<br /><br />2. People who honk at my best friend for stalling her boyfriends standard - that she never drives. If you had half of a brain (in your Mother's Sunfire) you would realize she didn't PURPOSELY "stall" in the middle of the busy intersection. You, honking your horn, like a rude and ignorant prick, isn't going to get the car in gear AND it only confirms for everyone (with three quarters of a brain) that your mother owns your balls and you have little to no, dick. Pardon me.<br /><br />3. Arrogant old ladies who refer to getting engaged as "getting your diamond" - that burns me a bit. No offence to my engaged and married friends, but it's not like you EARNED it. Like getting your degree for example (I didn't earn one of those either) It's like you are in a higher class because you "Got your diamond" Shouldn't it be about two people wanting to make a commitment to each other? I like how no one really supports that any more...and so I digress.<br /><br />4. People who can only be happy if they "got a deal" or people who have to justify buying things because they were "on sale" or people who think they are SO CLEVER because they paid less than you. I am all over Tooney Tuesday and the BoGo's right, but come on people! Get a life. Sometimes pinching pennies and looking for the best deal sucks the fun right out of the situation. People don't care that you saved 14 cents on the chicken at the Superstore. I for one, ESPECIALLY DON'T CARE. Oh and here is another thing - if you buy me a present from the dollar store as an adult - and think I don't know it came from the dollar store - you are sorely mistaken. <br /><br />5. People who like to tell me how many calories and fat grams are in carrot cake when I am trying to enjoy it. I mean, REALLY?<br /><br />6. People who get all bent out of shape over "titles" and speaking to certain people differently depending on their "professional status" - last time I checked we all poop. I speak to the janitor the same way I speak to the CEO. I might not tell the same stories of course, but I don't reserve special "tone" for anyone. I can't believe this still goes on - but it does, and it's stupid and often creepy.<br /><br />7. Middle aged men who feel the need to comment on my fashion choices. Your wife has to pick out your underwear in the morning. You know NOTHING about the art of "mis matching-matching" So do me a favour and go back to doing what you are good at - whatever that happens to be.<br /><br />8. I hate that when all is said and done my Mother always ends up being right. Being the lovely and graceful woman she is - never throws it back in my face - I might hate that even more, because sometimes I deserve it.<br /><br />9. I HATE people who feel the need to put in their "two cents" on everything. Things most of the time, they know nothing about. People, that always want to "one up" you, people who always want the "last word" Ugh. Fuck off already. OH, and I hate parents who yack on about how their ADULT children are the second coming of Christ. This is only acceptable with pre-schoolers. I mean, I actually KNOW your "kids" - who are you kidding? They are as fucked up as I am, and trust me are not perfect.<br /><br />10. I hate smokers who think non smokers are stuck up, I hate those plastic baby stroller covers, I hate people who get visibly annoyed in the long line at the grocery store, I hate people that walk super close behind you and don't just pass, I hate people who rev their engines at stop lights, I hate june bugs, I HATE people who only speak to hear their own voices, I hate having to budget, I HATE people who just say what they think YOU want to hear ALL THE TIME, I hate that I haven't done laundry in 3 weeks.<br /><br />Night Night!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-1793329468763320832011-06-09T22:35:00.008-03:002011-06-10T00:04:01.882-03:00Are you there NJDP? It's me...Hales.<em>"I think the reason ya still ain't married is cause you make the worst dang coffee I've ever tasted darlin"</em> - Grampie Pollock<br /><br />That among other things Grampie. <br /><br />My Grampie always reminds me of my brother.<br /><br />I need my brother to come home. I need him to come home, like, RIGHT NOW. <br /><br />I can't handle my wonderful wacky-wonk-ball family any longer without him. <br /><br />I can't survive another day not lunching on his delicious food creations. <br /><br />I can't handle not having the best movies and HBO shows on demand. <br /><br />I can't handle not laughing until I cry, then snort, then fall over because he is THE funniest A-hole on the entire planet. <br /><br />I can't handle not having him here to "knock the teeth outta" anyone who even looks at me side ways. <br /><br />I hope he is reading this right now and feeling like a HUGE GAY LORD FOCKER for not calling me back today after I left 14 sing-song-rap voice mails. WTF Nate Dogg?! I gotta rap to stay relevant betch! <br /><br />I need your bad attitude around - it keeps me level. <br /><br />I need you to stain my deck. <br /><br />I need you to piggy back me around when I get tired and sweaty. <br /><br />I need you to make me some brownies. <br /><br />I need to see you dance around with Mom in the Kitchen. You make her smile in a way that no one else can. <br /><br />I need for you tell me the truth. <br /><br />I need for you to teach me how to drive a standard now that my left toes don't work. <br /><br />I need you to "knock the teeth outta" my neighbor. <br /><br />I need you to be the "caring one" because right now I just don't have it in me. Lets face it, you ARE the caring one. <br /><br />I need to hear you say "WHAT THE FUCK GARY" to our wonderful father (who's idea of swearing is "Cripes Kate") when he fills the dishwasher wrong. <br /><br />I need you to listen to me ramble in my super-uper fast stress voice and then JUST when I think you aren't listening anymore to say "Keep goin lips"<br /><br />I need for you to fix my laptop that I gummed up with I dunno what.<br /><br />I need for you to be my human GPS and to grab the wheel when I almost die - every time I drive.<br /><br />I need for you to cook Thanksgiving dinner this year because Mom is threatening to have it at my house.<br /><br />I need you here to tell me that Saint John is "backwards" and that no one out west even THINKS about marriage until 30. <br /><br />I need you to tell Grampie to choke on his false teeth and that my coffee isn't that bad.<br /><br />I need for you to sing Fleetwood Mac songs with me when I'm sad.<br /><br />I need for you to come home so that I can sleep again.<br /><br />It's time jerk face. Really.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-35467429557294998832011-06-02T21:20:00.006-03:002011-06-02T23:06:52.542-03:00Chunky Monkeys Make More LoveSoooo I spent the entire month of May eating Carrot Cake -BATHING- more like it, in deliciously orgasmic cream cheese icing. One week, I went to the same restaurant THREE times - I told the owner I was on a binge. <br /><br />Now that we are moving into June, none of my clothes fit, but I don't mind. <br /><br />Honestly, Girls who eat dessert DO have more fun. <br /><br />Don't get me wrong, I believe in maintaining a certain level of, ahem, fitness - but sometimes you just need a lot of cake. Some girls deny this fact. Boys never deny the need for wings. So why the fuck are we denying the need for cake? "Yoga" pants were not invented for stretching my friends - they were invented for cake binges. I'm up 15 pounds. 15 pounds of PURE LOVE. In a four week span - obscene maybe? - but truly I have had more "Ah Ha Moments" (all hail the church of Oprah) this month than I have had in the past 5 years. In between bathing (in orgasmic cream cheese) <br />I believe I am coming into the summer a more enlightened person.<br /><br />First of all...I refuse to surround myself with people who do any less than force me to be a better person. People who bring out the best in me (and vice verse) Sometimes, it's easier to focus on others issues rather than face our own. Sometimes, you try SO hard to fix other peoples problems that you forget this is an impossible task. Sometimes, you just need to take a deep breath and realize you are not a bad person for removing yourself from situations that bring you down. <br /><br />Second of all, I'm generally not a modest person. Naked Sunday's are part of my religion. What I find interesting, is I actually feel more confident a bit fluffy. When you are not so consumed with having a flat stomach you can do some actual thinking that doesn't involve "Does my ass look fat in this?" Really, I have had the best sex of my life rollin chunky. I don't care who doesn't want to hear that. Self confidence and just accepting things as they are is very powerful thing. <br /><br />I was watching Piers Morgan the other night - he said, and I quote:<br /><br /><em>"No man I know likes skinny women. Women get skinny for other women. I say every woman should gain 7 pounds. They would be much happier. Happiness equals more sex. Chunk up and get laid ladies" </em><br /><br />Please note, he did say 7 pounds, not 15! but who's counting.<br /><br />I'm so over the nasty skinny girl syndrome. Come on girls! we are smarter than this. We have more going for us than the size of our jeggings. I don't want to talk about diets, calories or who is hotter than who anymore. I want to talk about things that matter. <br /><br />Again, I do believe in physical fitness and leading a generally healthy life style. I am in no way saying to eat carrot cake, get fat and get fucked.(excuse me) I'm just saying the constant diet talk gets really old. Not to mention, NO ONE CARES. <br /><br />Maybe that is why the cake binge began. It was proving to myself that it's ok. No one ever died from consuming too much carrot cake. I'm an intelligent woman. If I'm feeling a tad emotional and only cake will do, then I'm gonna say to hell with It and rock my yoga pants for a while. Spinach will always be in the fridge waiting.<br /><br />Oh, and in efforts to not waste my delicious May adventure - Here is, in my opinion, the top 5 cake locations in Saint John.<br /><br />5. The Superstores "Ultimate Carrot Cake" -Note NOT the smaller square version (for some reason that one is not nearly as delish) I mean the REAL CAKE in the display counter...its a double layer and REALLY GOOD.<br /><br />4. Starbucks Mini Carrot Cake Cupcakes. Cute and fabulous.<br /><br />3. Urban Deli -- this cake actually has cream cheese marbled through the cake. It is an amazing dessert experience.<br /><br />2. Britts -- This cake wins for the BEST ICING.<br /><br />1. Opera Bistro -- This is by FAR my ultimate favorite. It is a FIVE layer. The toasted nuts make me cry. Tell Marg I sent you - it's ridiculous yumzzie. <br /><br />In closing, I do intend on cutting back a bit on the cake - but I will enjoy it when I feel the need. We control our own feelings, our own happiness and our own lives. <br /><br />Let's make the best of it.<br /><br />XOXOXAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-28958957317880744922011-05-16T21:14:00.008-03:002011-05-17T22:10:02.073-03:00LL Bean makes a Mean Raincoat....I actually love the rain. When I was Elementary school, on rainy days, my Mom would always meet me on my lunch hour and walk home with me in the rain. She had this huge see through retro-fabulous umbrella. It was like this perfect little bubble of happiness.<br /><br />Sadly, my Mom doesn't meet me for lunch with her happy bubble these days.<br /><br />I am sitting here listening to some Free Willy/Michael Jackson compilation eating chips and dip. WTF is up with the soul-ful whisper-talk part at the end? Please save the whales but MJ lock it up already. I just laughed out loud. I'm not gonna lie the gospel-esque clapping parts are sort of uplifting. Maybe I need to start going to church. Brown people church. They clearly have more fun on Sundays. <br /><br />I was just informed that the world is ending on Saturday. For the Christians that is. The rest of ya's get to rot on earth for a bit longer. Apparently, we have until Friday to convert, but after that - no deal you fucking sorry sinner! Honest to God. Google this garbage. Some "Christian Businessman" claims it to be gospel. What is wrong with people? To be honest, if the world does have to end I hope it's at least after the Summer. I guess if it ends we will all go together hey? Then I can stop playing 649.<br /><br />Here is something else. One of my bestest friends, who happens to be single, was like "Married men love me. Young boys love you" Oh Jeeze. She happens to always be right. Another example of her right-ness was last week I was rambling and whaling about my sorry life when she was like "Hales you are not going crazy, you are just about to start your period" I quickly checked my I-phone to double check my cycle (yup, there's an App for that!) and I was like noooooo it's 11 days away. Well Apple needs to get a fertility update cause the next day I was frantically searching the Refinery for a Tampon.<br /><br />Anyway. <br /><br />What UP College boys?! I can't even get "boys" my own age on the god damned Internet. Am I aloud to talk about that or is that some kind of hush hush faux pas? Well lets be out with it: EVERY SINGLE PERSON HAS TRIED IT AT LEAST ONCE. I have tried it a few times. Plenty of Douche. Every time I check my messages on such site it's like the equivalent of a Big Crunch Combo. Seems like a good idea at the time but leaves you feeling fat and greasy. I put my age, I put recent pics. I don't look super young or super slutty so I don't understand why all the barely legals are sayin "What up Sexxxxxxxxy ;) :) :) :P " I mean, I know I'm not the most mature chick eves but really?! Internet dating is truly a whole other blog in itself in which I will save for another time.<br /><br />Since I began with my Mother maybe I should continue. My sweet Mama told me last week she thinks the reason I cannot meet a "nice man" is because "I have no social boundaries" What the fuck Mary?! She is certain this guy that I was casually dating didn't want to get "serious" because I wrote about getting my ass hole lasered. First of all, we weren't getting serious because I didn't really like his lips and secondly, because I'm pretty sure WE, as adults, didn't really want anything more. I told her this and she just shook her head. My Dad cheered. He thinks I'm awesome. Him and all the spiky haired, Ed Hardied, ready to pardddy Club thangs. Pass the Gravy.<br /><br />Oh and lets just get this out of the way. Whats up with brutal girls who get to be engaged like 15 times?! Yeah. I'm gonna go there. I don't particularly want to be engaged parse BUT a decent set of lips would be nice. How is it that boring Fugz seem to be wheelin' and deelin' out all these marriage proposals?! I know like, 15 girls on facebook that have been engaged to 3 different guys this year alone. I'm calling bullshit.<br /><br />I need to stop writing about College boys and Fugz.<br /><br />So, the other day a friend of mine advised that she happened to come across her parents sex toys. Yup. Wrapped in an LL Bean Rain Coat. Considering we are preparing to board the Ark, I thought this would be an appropriate topic. Soooo wrapped in a sturdy, yellow, cape cod style rain coat was two HUGE his and her dildo's - complete with a prostate tickler. Instead of being disturbed (and throwing them out the window she took pictures) Pictures with her head beside them (you know for "size perspective") and then texted said pics to her entire friends list. Gosh I know the best peeps. <br /><br />That's all I have to say right now.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-14364011213682333532011-03-29T21:06:00.003-03:002011-03-29T22:41:03.947-03:00Special EdOh, life.<br /><br />I've had a wacky little go of it lately. <br /><br />Isn't it funny, that we become so consumed with our own "life dramas" that we.... "forget what is really important?" <br /><br />What the fuck IS that again?!<br /><br /><strong>We are all the same. We are not special. Our parents lied. </strong><br /><br />Oh, and Guess what? YES, it "Could always be worse" but how is that even relevant for anyone with half a brain? <br /><br />Listen, I understand that is a "positive perspective coping mechanism" but here's the thing : If I have had a the kind of day that ended with me frantically going through the Dairy Queen Drive-Through - with no pants on - in a manic panic - I REALLY don't wanna to hear it. Seriously. Every one's problems are their problems. They matter, because they are what YOU are living. <br /><br />Are you or I that important? No in the grand scheme of things not really. However - (not to sound really annoying) but where ever you go - there you are. If you are constantly not validating your thoughts or feelings then who is that helping?! Certainly not those poor people in Japan or the starving buggy Hivvy children in Africa. We are just all doing the best we can - well, for the most part. Some days, heck, I don't try at all.<br /><br />That said, I do have a severe hate-on for perpetually negative and whiney people. Whiners are the worst. Why can't they understand that no one cares?! This is not to be confused with Venting or PMS. Also, I do want to be clear that I certainly understand not all tragedies are created equal, YES I care about world distress, but please don't compare it to my dog dying.<br /><br />" Well, I'm sorry to hear about your dog, but at least you're not living in Japan where your whole family is missing" <br /><br />Ok, so now I'm supposed to be full blown depressed because I am a loser for even feeling sad in the first place? <br /><br />Earley is not dead, and I am certainly not depressed. I'm just saying, it pisses me off.<br /><br />So as much, as I love me some good positive self talkin - you know the Dove Commercials, the you are beautiful crap and we are all unique stuff? some days I think it is extremely comforting to realize we are actually NOT that special. We are all just people. We are not a big deal, nor do we matter that much. We all shit. We all cry. We all have good days and bad. We all have regrets (the "no regretters" REALLY piss me off) We all want to be loved. We all have insecure moments. We all love wearing no pants.<br /><br />That makes me smile.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-31763189172625006322011-03-01T09:10:00.004-04:002011-03-01T09:22:48.063-04:00What I know at 30...<strong>One of my besties sent me this last week...I love it - and her very much! <br /><br />Thought everyone should take a peek, and a little read, cause she's a pretty smart cookie...</strong><br /><br /><br />What I know at 30 - By T. Dupuis<br /><br />First of all, <br /><br /><br />It seems quite clear to me now that the guy standing outside the liquor store, with the large band-aid covering his stubble chin, playing "We Want the Funk" on his sax, with a twinkle in his eye knows a hell of a lot more about happiness than a whole lot of us. <br /><br /><br />There will never be "enough" time, but the time I spend doing anything worthwhile can never be rushed, wasted, or multi-tasked. <br /><br /><br />A cookie a day ain't ever killed nobody. And two a day has likely saved several lives.<br /><br /><br />Flossing is really not a hassle once you get into the habit. <br /><br /><br />In fact, the most success I've achieved in this life so far can be whittled down to acquiring good habits.<br /><br /><br />Crying does not make you weak; it often shows just the opposite: vulnerable courage.<br /><br /><br />A lot of the moments closest to perfection are quite ones.<br /><br /><br />Sometimes hugs are the greatest gifts I've ever received.<br /><br /> <br />30 is much too young to be wise and it's way too old to be naive.<br /><br /> <br />Some mistakes NEED to be learned over and over and over.<br /><br /> <br />Credit cards are the devil.<br /><br /> <br />Being single is much better when you have a pet.<br /><br /> <br />Confidence and ambition are the 2 sexiest things a person can exhibit AND they don't sag with age.<br /><br /> <br />I am proud of my laughter wrinkles, the callouses on my feet and the freckles on my face.<br /><br /> <br />If I want something bad enough, I will always get it. I eventually stop fighting for the things that don't matter much. And what I usually turn out really needing is most often positively correlated to how hard I ended up fighting for it.<br /><br /> <br />No one really cares if you can't dance very well. If you are a good time, they'll tear up the dance floor with you.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EnW-2G4YbN4/TWzyaBjx-RI/AAAAAAAAAFc/udvSVnLaeWg/s1600/n556775393_3230073_8998.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EnW-2G4YbN4/TWzyaBjx-RI/AAAAAAAAAFc/udvSVnLaeWg/s320/n556775393_3230073_8998.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579100567314233618" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-66073432942087269242011-02-20T20:13:00.003-04:002011-02-20T22:34:01.509-04:00No FuzzHi, my name is Haley, and I practice Laser Hair Removal.<br /><br />I have been one with the "beam" for about 6 months. Many have requested I document this very interesting and, dare I say, intimate experience. I haven't done so, as I thought it may be a bit "over the line" Then again, who am I kidding? Nothing is over "my line". What I will say is, if you are at all squeamish, if I have to work with you - in a professional environment - or if you happen to be an extremely hot male please just do us both a favour and stop reading this now. <br /><br /><strong>Really.</strong><br /><br />Here's the thing. It's really my Mom's fault. She thought it would be a "dream come true" to never shave her legs again. The laser is permanent people! So she decided I should try it out for the BOTH of us. She used the excuse that I have a lot of surgeries, so hell! maybe we can get it written off. You know, as a medical expense. This has yet to be approved - Thanks for nothing (except no babies) Blue Cross. <br /><br />Anyway, me being me - I believe in doing nothing half assed - decided to get the full meal deal. Full Leg, bikini and under arms. Since I was going to be the Guingna pig, and since I am a tad spoiled, Mama offered to pay for the first treatment. I must say, being a hairless porn star ain't cheap - One treatment costs close to my monthly mortgage payment...and so I digress?<br /><br />Alright. So I get there. They tell me to pretty much get naked and gave me a piece of paper poorly disguised as a blanket to hide my bits under. Meih, Whatevs. They asked me if I had taken some Advil and how high I felt my pain tolerance was. I should note they make you fill out 10 pages worth of "health info" which, in the end, I'm pretty sure it's just so they have your signature (of approval) in case they actually burn your hairy ass right off. That's fine. I waste no time telling her I took two double D's (all hail Delotted!) in the car - but that's only because my bones are healing right? not cause she is about to laser beam the hair off of my entire body.<br /><br />So let the laser tag games begin! To say it was uncomfortable is a bit of an understatement. It felt like a million tiny elastics were snapping at each individual gorilla hair. No pain no gain right?! I did request she turn up the strength as I want to try and get this whole no hair thing under way in less than six treatments. I did take the opportunity (when she was doing my bikini area) to negotiate a better price - she knocked off $150 bones - you gotta get em when weak!<br />2 hours later I limped out (even more so) covered in bruises and Polysporn.<br /><br />A week went by, the bruising faded, and then all of a sudden the hair just sort of all fell out. You know in cartoons when the chicken gets scared and all it's feathers fall out instantly? it was sort of like that. Freaky Deaky. My underarms were the best part of all. I went 2 months without shaving them. As previously noted I'm pretty sure my brother is half chimp.<br /><br />Fast forward 6 months and I am now on my third treatment/session. I ended up switching "laser salons" as I realized I was being violently bum raped (price wise) at my initial location.<br /><br />Yup, this is when it gets good.<br /><br />So my "new girl" is young, sweet and most importantly very professional. My plan for the day was to get my full legs, bikini and underarms as I have done in the past. Now, when I say "bikini" I'm sure you are all aware that, that's really just for a few strays that might jiffy pop out of your um bikini. I had some reservations on getting my whole...well lets just say it -bird - lasered as I have been told that once you get old (and pop out a few aliens) that things can start to sag and well no one wants to see that bald beaver right? SO, my plan THAT DAY was to actually go get a Brazilian WAX post laser treatment. This is important info, because girls, as you know - you sorta have to be "grown out" to get the Brazilian Wax. SO after filling out 10 pages of paperwork, and swearing to HPV that I don't have herpes, I get up on the table, cover my bits with the paper blanket and tell her to hit me. <br /><br />So we start with my under arms. She is zapping away while I am trying to act tough...and I tend to ramble right? SO I decide to tell her that I am going to get a Brazilian after this bit of torture, and that I have never let wax tough my inner bird - (oh not to mention ass hole) so I was a bit tense. WELL. She told me that for just $99 plus tax she would give me a Brazilian LASER with the underarms included - a Valen-times SPECIAL. Well we all know I love the V-Day and I super love a SALE. So I thought, what the fudge? who cares if it sags later? Lets laser my bird!<br /><br />So back to how you kinda "grow it out" for a wax job. Right. You can't have hair when you go get lasered cause it actually burns the hair and then will burn your skin. Now since she was going to fry my labia (and ass hole) with a laser she recommended using some "numbing cream" BUT FIRST she exclaimed and I QUOTE "we better shave the situation" Alright. My dignity walked out the door in the early 90's right? I seriously have no shame. But was I REALLY gonna let this poor sweet girl shave my Rain Forrest-esque SITUATION?!!! I sort of wanted to let her - just for kicks - but thought better of it. She is gonna laser my ass hole lest we forget. So I told her to hand over the razer and I'd handle it. She gave me a towel and stepped out. Ok, so seriously. This was a GROWN OUT BUSH that I was supposed to DRY SHAVE with a dollar store BIC on this table?! ho-lay. I somehow managed but wasn't able to be as thorough as I would have liked. <br /><br />"We" applied the numbing cream. It wasn't hot for all you sicko's - it was with a friggin Popsicle stick. Fine. I didn't feel anything go numb but didn't want to be a whiny pussy so just shut up. I don't know how to put the experience into words. It hurt - a lot. It smelled like burning. It was my poor bird getting fried right in front of my eyes (oh and you have to wear these ridiculous goggles too) <br /><br />So we got to umm...the bum. Those Brazilians sure know how to get er done hey? So it's a little awkward cause you have to lay on your side, hold one knee up to your chest and then Hold, ahem spread, your bum cheek open. Good thing I ain't shy. Again, I do tend to get rambly...so she is goin at it and I smell INTENSE burning and it fucking HURTS...so to try and get my mind off of this horrible. horrible experience THIS is what comes out of my mouth:<br /><br />"So do you think I have a hemorrhoid?" <br /><br />*laser turns off* <br /><br />"what?!"<br /><br />"Um, do you think I have a hemorrhoid?"<br /><br />*queue hysterical-fall out of the chair- laughter from sweet laser chick* <br /><br />Well fuck, I dunno, what in the hell do you say when someone is shooting your ass hole with a hot burning laser? She kindly told me that I did NOT have hemorrhoids. <br /><br />Howevs, with that out of the way, I think she figured that it's balls to the wall time. SOoo she proceeds to tell me a story from when she was in "Brazilian Laser school" Her instructor (had instructed) that any client that gets a Brazilian (wait for it) must prior to treatment....insert a tampon into their rectum. <br /><br />PARDON?!!! <br /><br />So I convulse into hysterical laughter (hand still on bum cheek) APPARENTLY if the "client" passes gas and the gas mixes with the laser beam it can cause some kind of EXPLOSION. HYSTERICAL RIGHT? We both laughed so hard we cried. She told me no one else in the class laughed. Were they dead?! but she honestly didn't have the heart to ask me to put a tampon up my bum. Imagine that conversation. I sort of wish we could have had it actually. That would have made the story much better. It would have gone something like this:<br /><br />"Now remove all of your clothing, hop up on the table and cover yourself with the paper provided. Don't worry I'll shave your gorilla cooch for you, but OH! don't forget to insert this TAMPON up your ass first.<br /><br />Amazeballs.<br /><br />I promised not to pass gas and we finished up quite nicely. We actually exchanged cell numbers and email addresses as really, now we are sorta soul mates right?<br /><br />It has been a bit over a week since this treatment experience. My hair has yet to all fall out but that's not abnormal. My bird has seen prettier days but that is "to be expected" Also due to me begging for her to "crank the power" my bum crack is a little burnt. Ok a LOT burnt. Again, no pain no gain sista! Overall, I have been very pleased with the results. I go back in 6 more weeks to get the party started again. <br /><br />I will post the final results -In less detail.<br /><br />Hope you all have a wonderful week - and if any of you give me a weird "bird glance" next time I see ya over coffee - you are dead to me.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-8862849683242607762011-02-19T23:37:00.004-04:002011-02-20T01:56:46.521-04:00Insane in the MembraneFirst of all : HAPPY MOTHER LOVIN SPRING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<br /><br />Second of all : Is it too early to wear no socks?<br /><br />Thirdly : HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY SPRING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<br /><br />February truly is my favorite month of the year. Besides it being the month of my Psychological Spring, it is the month of LOVE! I gotta admit: I do love "the love" people. A friend of mine the other day said something that made me tilt my head to the side: <br /><br />"You know Hales, for such a commitment-phobic-dude you really do love, love"<br /><br />I was mildly offended. First of all, I am not a "dude" (for the record she was calling me a penis) Secondly, I don't feel I am scared of commitment. I'm scared of all the irresponsible, immature, not very bright, left-overs that Saint John has to offer. I can't commit to something/somebody that has been left in the fridge for a month but shoulda been thrown out on date (er I mean DAY) two. What's love got to do with any of THAT? I mean lets be real. I know there are plenty of "great guys" out there, but none of them are breakin down my door. All you happy little "marrieds" are always the ones saying there are plenty of "great guys out there" What the fuck do you know suzy home-makers?! Please excuse my bitter tone.<br /><br />I really do Love the LOVE!<br /><br />Valen-times was/is amazing. My house is in full V-Day/Spring Mode. I did up all my little Valentines (elementary school style) made treat bags, pulled out my red dress, made heart shaped eggs for breakfast. At work we had a yummy muffin brunch. I recieved lots of flowers and cutesy little things that make me happy. I had an A-mazing dinner with a few of my best friends - Wine - butter chicken - gossip - chocolate - Yes! <br /><br />It even warmed up a bit and melted lots of the the dirty dog shitty snow! <br /><br />So with all this wonderball Spring n' love shiz goin down why can't I sleep? Terrible intro I know. I seriously haven't slept through the night in a month. We are talkin a 2 hour average. If I really hop myself up on the narcs I can squeeze out 4 hours, but end up wonky-whackified the next day. Frick. I've tried all the tricks. Warm bath, reading, meditation, porn. Nothing works. On week two (right before V-Day) I went to the Pharmacist begging for a natural remedy. She hooked me up with Melatonin pills. Bullshit. Sooo I'm now trying these jumbo vitamin B's that I take in conjunction with the Melatonin. Nothin. I really wish I hadn't abused Nyquil in my earlier years caue even that won't make me snooze anymore. I write lists before bed, I've gotten massages, I have bought myself the best sheets I can afford. My life isn't that stressful. I can't figure it out. <br /><br />So anyway. No sleep has turned me into a monster. A cookie monster AND a bitch faced monster. I laugh at things that are not that funny (aka the old lady who slips crossing the street)I cry at things not worth crying about (bathroom stall at work = rock bottom) I'm not even matching my panties to my bra these days. Don't even start on the cookies. I actually laid in bed tonight (watching Greys and Private Practice) and mauwed down chips, dip, cookies and coffee cake for phattie sakes! I'm so over-tired I catch myself just sitting in my car not remembering where I'm even going. I hate the people I love the most. I'm grumbly. I'm a bit of a hater really. I don't like it one bit. How do you ass holes even survive?! being a miserable human sucks ballsagna (balls-on-ya)<br /><br />My brother left me a message at work the other day and it went something like this:<br /><br />"Heyyy Hale-laa, Mom told me you have lost your smile. I'm happy to hear it. You were too damn happy before and it was pissin everyone off. A shot of reality will do you good. Guess what? I've been called for jury duty. They pay 50 bones a day PLUS transportation. Thats almost like a JOB. Get some sleep so you can get back to being the silly goof ball we all hate - and I'll keep you posted as I slip into the depths of depression"<br /><br />What a sweetheart. This did make me laugh until I cried in my office cube. Then I REALLY started crying and had to go sit in the stall for a few minutes. On my way back to my "cube" I realized half of the office has those "sun lamps" like the "anti depresant D lights" on full blast. Jumpin Jesus, maybe February isn't so great. Is everyone depressed, not sleeping and eating mass amounts of chips ahoy? Hmm. <br /><br />I still love the Love, and have a feeling next week will be better. Oh and that old chick wiping out on the street was fucking hilarious. Tired or not.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-54585233219656559132011-02-02T20:57:00.003-04:002011-02-02T22:42:54.805-04:00God Bless the GroundhogI like how when I'm in my car alone I forget that it has windows. <br /><br />Non-tinted windows. Windows that the world can see in. I believe many others forget this little fact as well. <br /><br />Everyone sings in their car alone. I have full blast, hair flippin concerts. NBD right? Howevs do you know how many people pick their nose in their vehicle?! A LOT. <br /><br />You do it too right? <br /><br />Anyway, The other day I was on my way to work. At a red light (while singing some Maggie May) did a quick "face and nose check" (I drive to work at 6:55am so rarely have time to even make sure my pants are right side out) Well, sure enough, I noticed that I had a bit of a boog issue annnnd instead of just taking care of business- I thought to myself - NBD! ("no big deal" for the acronym challenged) I'll fix that latez! <br /><br />Later....really?!!<br /><br />I mean what was more important at that very moment?!!!! Needless to say I actually FORGOT and didn't realize until my 10am pee break that I was walking around with a cliff-hanger for half the morning. This was the same morning I decided to wear a polka dotted ribbony n' frilly undergarments that you could see RIGHT THROUGH my dress. The dress was black. For the most part so were my intimates. WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT? Those florescent lights will get you every time. Booger nose? Check! Showing your underwear off to your entire office? check! I had also managed to forget that my year end review was that afternoon so I hadn't prepared anything. I mean I've been out on handy leave for months - why even try at this point? <br /><br />Sooo of course on my way in to meet my boss I actually stumbled (like nearly fell to the GROUND) and ended up dropping an F-bomb. Very professional. I ended up rambling about nothing and saying something to the effect of "My main objective for 2011 is to actually show up in the morning" My boss gave me this amused little smile and we sat in silence for what seemed to be 15 years. He finally breaks the silence with: "You know what? my son would really like you" It took every ounce of whatever I have inside my polka dotted under garments to not give him a serious eye brow raise. Come on, I was really thinking "Well does he have a job?, Does he have common sense? Does he understand how funny life is? Does he look like Jonny Lang?" Of course, I had to save some dignity and replied with "Well isn't he eight years old? Kids really dig me" That shut it down nice and quick. Anyway, all in all, it ended up going very well. No friggin doubt it was the see through dress. Cripes.<br /><br />So now lets move on to the gym. I always manage to sit OUTSIDE the gym for a minimum of 20 minutes trying to think of reasons of why I shouldn't go in. It's rid-damn-diculous. I play on facebook, listen to some great light rock hits, pick my nose...I always drag myself in eventually. I always think the same thing "Haley, you are such an idiot" Anyway. So I am on the elliptical. All I can think about is how the girl in front of me has THE BEST bum I have EVER seen in my ENTIRE life (including on TV) So I try to (inconspicuously) stare at it and pretend that is what mine will look like If I continue to lay off the Dorito's. It sort of works. The gym also has this ORGASMIC massage chair. So I always tell myself if I get through the torture I can enjoy 10 minutes of pure unbridled bliss. Oh, and on the topic of gym-ing WHAT UP WITH PEOPLE WHO CAN ACTUALLY READ while doing cardio?!!! I find this act truly AMAZING. I have to focus my full attention on remaining upright and you are flippin through the latest issue of People?! really - I'm impressed AND jealous. Ok so along with the massage chair I get to read trash but ONLY if I can get through an hour of sweaty hell. All you smiley "exercise lovers" can just fuck off already. <br /><br />I think what I am really trying to say is I have MAD procrastination skills. I put off picking my nose, I manage to NEVER get up early enough in the AM to ensure my underwear are appropriate, I wing ALL of my meetings, I sit outside the gym like a loser....I mean, this was just yesterday people. I have left out countless infuriating examples of my slack-do-it-later-itus.<br /><br />Oh, and I have already creeped out my bosses son. I do believe he may be 14.<br /><br />12 more days until Psychological Spring!!!!!!!!!!! XOXOXOXAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-65744732760387871852011-01-21T15:32:00.008-04:002011-01-21T17:06:52.304-04:00SuperduperficialA snow-cation on a Friday is alright I guess hey? (24 days until HP saucy crazyballz spring!)<br /><br />Bikini-Bootcamp has commenced. Day two - Brutes. No sugar/No Flour/No Booze. Super Brutes. I'm not going to whine or complain. Looking good for "the average" is hard work! Getting "old" is a bit of a downer in the appearance department. The "radiance" doesn't come so easily...Speaking of that, not to be a huge bitch-face, but I wish all you "January Gym Go-ers" would do us alllll a favor and just go HOME. It was reallllly annoying, last night, when I had to wait for a cardio machine. I had a nail appointment to get to god dammit! I know this IS really bitchy (I didn't really have a nail appointment - that's tomorrow - ha ha - no really) I realize am the last person who should be complaining. Considering I have spent the better part of this month BALLS OUT EMO binging on ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING. I think resolutions can be a positive self upper! no matter how ridiculous and phony baloney! Howevs, it IS a bit embarrassing for human-kind yes? I wouldn't join a gym in January on hurtin unit principle alone. Walk around the block at 6am (it'll be dark so no one will see your puffy shamed face)write in gratitude journal all you want, but please don't take my elliptical you January gym goer!<br /><br />**all those "I's" in there were not a poor grammar accident. I also assume it is completely obvi I could give a shizzle about "run on sentences"**<br /><br />I should add - My "Bikini-Bootcamp" has NOTHING to do with the month. It also really doesn't have (that) much to do with a bikini. My work-place is having a "weight loss challenge" Sweet dirty Cashola is involved. I CAN NOT pass up free money. A skinnier ass is just a bonus. It is based on percentage - mostly donut eating middle aged men are involved - ahh victory will be sweet. I may or may not have spent the week before gaining as much weight as humanly possible (8lbs of pure joy bitches!) you know, to have the highest "start weight" I also may or may not HATE my life, for the next 2 months, all for 400 bones. Meih. A competition is a competition. Why focus on why you get paid - your actual JOB - when you can maliciously con your work mates into getting fatter?!?!!<br /><br />While on the topic of Bikini's....I did receive a 40% off coupon in the mail this week for...wait for it...tattoo removal. Oh, tramp stamp Why? I'm just not sure I trust a chick fresh outta beauty school with a tazer. Then again, I trusted a strung out fully inked and pierced dude to mutilate my body...but that was 10 years ago. PLUS is a lower back scar actually worse than the actual stamp? Maybe I should just own the ink. Free pass to tramp it up. I got a stamp sweetheart - Ima VIP. Researching Removal ASAP.<br /><br />Yeah, I get Microdermabrasion and Laser hair removal too. Fuck you low maintenance girls! I'm calling bullshit on all of you. I just did a re read and realized how ridiculous this all sounds....I understand there are bigger problems in the world. I just don't want to blog about them. Isn't that what CNN is for? ;)<br /><br />Happy no sugar/no flour/no booze weekend!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-68453823415530692132011-01-18T23:06:00.000-04:002011-01-18T17:15:50.191-04:00Lockin LipzDo you remember the best kisser you have ever kissed? <br /><br />Sometimes a kiss is just a kiss, and then there is a KISS. Like the kind that makes you remember why you get up in the morning - and brush your teeth as a matter of fact.<br /><br />There are the first nervous kisses. Like the ones where you are barely dating the person and you literally feel 12 years old again. It's like you forget how to breathe and keep choking on your curiously strong breath mint. All you can do is pray he doesn't swallow your face or choke you out with his tongue. Or even worse pull out the "Nana" - aka Bum-hole lips. I always laugh when that happens and then things get awkward pretty fast. <br /><br />Then there are the sloppy "I've had a few too many Margarita's" kinda Kisses. This usually happens at drinking establishments, beach parties, or places really inappropriate when you are not, ahem, 19 anymore. I of course, have never experienced one of those kinds. However, I hear they are pretty much all the same due to the fact your lips are actually numb and you don't really give a flying fuck because SOME HOW you are wearing these really cute beer goggles that make everyone look infinitely hotter than they really are. Anyway.<br /><br />Oh, and then there are the "cute-sy, sweet, nose rubby" kinda kisses The one's when you are new-ish but now so new that you are jittery in a relationship. The ones when you actually LIKE each other. Once you are "in love" I find the good kissin kinda stops. Maybe this is why my past relationships haven't worked out. Who knows? I mean, when you just want to smooch (ew who says smooch?) cause you really dig each other. When you get into a long term relationship its like you kiss "Hi, Good-Bye and Alright, just shove it in" You never really make out anymore right? <br /><br />Then there are the shockingly amazing kisses. Like the ones that make you you forget your name and all that gay stuff. The ones you don't have to work on. The ones that just fit. No, not just fit, but like REALLY FIT. Sort of like comparing Levi's with Sevens. One does the job, but the other GETS THE JOB DONE. Know what I mean? I have had my share of good ones, great ones, lovey ones, cute-sy ones, awkward ones, Nana -I never wanna kiss you again ones... mayyybe one or two drunken ones but only a very few AMAZING better than ANY cookie, fried chicken, or Keanu Reeves - in Speed -fantasy. <br /><br />There was this one guy. I was mad crazy balls for him. MAD CRAZY BALLS. If you know me at all, you know this is rare. I am unapologetically aloof in the lust department. To your face I mean. I do love, love and all, but it takes a LOT to get me twitterpated and swoony so to speak. Anyway, MAD CRAZY BALLS for this guy. One fateful night, things got real. I didn't see it coming, very unexpected. LET ME TELL YOU when we kissed I nearly fucking fainted. He had the best set of lips I have ever kissed. I literally couldn't speak and wanted to eat his whole entire face off. I legit-shit you not. Once you have had a perfect set of lips the bar is set disappointingly high for all the lips going forward. So what happened to Mr. beautiful smooch face? I shouldn't say too much considering this is sort of the Internet, but what I will say, is I ended up being highly allergic to his um, body wash, dog orr something, and when I broke out in FULL BODY HIVES umm it sorta killed the mood. The full story would make you cry - these things only happen to me. We kissed a few magical times after said hives, but truth be told, I have yet to recover. <br /><br />Point being, Great kissin, is an art. It is so often kinda skipped over, or brushed off, but I would take a brilliant kisser over a big bank account (or a big um, you know) ANY day. I would never eat KFC AGAIN if I was guaranteed to lock lipz with a man, who knows how to REALLY kiss, for the rest of my life. <br /><br />True story. Solid Fact.<br /><br />I really need a boyfriend.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-51833590461917225362011-01-16T21:13:00.000-04:002011-01-16T22:52:31.791-04:00Male Order Bribes**This was also written over a year ago??!!! Pretty sure I was high on prescription drugs**<br /><br />First of all: Dudes, I heart you. <br /><br />I have never, ever once wished to be one of you - but I do appreciate your gender. <br /><br />There is simply, less drama. <br /><br />Sometimes you need a break, ya know? <br /><br />SOMETIMES, it's just nice to eat a god damned sandwich in peace. Know what I'm sayin? Group dining with males is so refreshingly different. No need to let Johnny know for the 15th time that he doesn't look fatter today. It's also nice (sometimes) to just have a real conversation. One that doesn't have "neural ninja" type ulterior motives. One that is - just as it is. Don't get me wrong, I have had amazing conversations with all my female friends however, in general, sometimes you just wanna talk facts. Men are all about facts. Woman, myself included, like fluff...and glitter. It's all about balance right? (yes this is getting all rambly) What I am trying to say is I appreciate both genders. As a female I have noticed a few things over the years...um, and I think you boys need to get a clue. <br /><br />Women want emotional connections. I believe guys do to (to some extent) but to a greater extent they want SEX. Boys this is your lucky day. Follow these steps and be prepared to get some. Here are some actual facts for ya:<br /><br />1. Shut up and Buy Dinner. Open all Doors, Remain standing until she sits - extra points if you stand when she gets up to go to the bathroom (this is unnecessary at KFC, but if it is a dressy occasions PLEASE do this!!) Remember basic table manners and be polite to the wait staff. I once had a guy snap his fingers at a waitress and I almost puked in his fettuccine. He was hot as hell, so it was an unfortunate turn of events. Bottom line - Chivalry ain't dead and never should be so.<br /><br />2. If you are over the age of 25 and wear Ed Hardy you don't deserve to get laid. EVER. This also goes for highlighted hair doo's and cheap fashion thumb rings.<br /><br />3. Be an active LISTENER. Seriously. If you really don't have the cognitive ability, then learn how to fake it - well. Chicks always know when you are only thinking about their tits. A dude that actually listens, asks and makes thoughtful and mindful comments/questions are the lucky ones later. <br /><br />4. Don't boast, brag or exaggerate profusely. Nothing kills a girl boner quicker than a guy who clearly has no self confidence. Also, try not to reference beer chugging skills and how your friends all like to hunt.<br /><br />5. If you are actually lucky enough to embrace a female DO NOT under ANY circumstances "Flex yo Pex". That is fucking disgusting.<br /><br />6. Refrain from using phrases similar to: "I am such a nice guy" or "Girls only like jerks" or "Get er done" and please - do not reference how you can "throw down in the bedroom" Trust me. <br /><br />7. If a holiday is coming up, or if you want to get a "just because" gift try to veer away from red roses. It's kinda over done and 80's. Not that women don't appreciate it, they do - but a cute little post it note can have the same effect. Again, we want to feel like you actually thought about it. Never under any circumstance go with the kitchen gadget/appliance or any other gift that can be used "jointly" over jewelry. EVER. <br /><br />7. Do the dishes (and wipe the counter), make an effort to shower daily, do your own laundry. If you can't remember to put the seat down - no big deal, but do your best to not piss all over the floor. I have lived with many dudes (most just room mates) and what the hell is up with floor piss?!! AIM ass holes.<br /><br />8. Pretend to like her friends and her wacky mother. Never admit that her best friend is "smokin hot" and even if she begs for an honest answer never ever ever utter that the dress makes her look like a chunky monkey. Oh, and period jokes are just not funny. Please don't reference tampons as "love plugs" I could barely even type that. I swear, that has happened to me. It made me want to cry and vomit simultaneously - and never have sex again.<br /><br />9. Sometimes Vanilla is sweet. Sometimes sprinkles and a bit of sauce is awesome. Sometimes using the phrase "Who's your Daddy you bleepity bleep" (or really anything with the Daddy word thrown in there) is....horrible.<br /><br />10. The "whirley bird" IS sorta funny. Just try to play helicopter and/or "play doh balls" when sexy times are not about to happen. Right? Right.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-86921474272750281082011-01-13T17:36:00.000-04:002011-01-13T17:37:03.203-04:00Coke & A Smoke<strong>I found this little gem in my "drafts" I actually wrote it LAST Winter but must have forgotten to post. Nearly a year later, it still rings true :)</strong><br /><br /><br />So I was walkin around "The Plaza" the other day...yeah, "The Plaza". I was in serious need of some North End garlic fingers and well... ya do what ya gotta do. I'm tellin you what, If you are ever feelin down on yourself just take a scoot over to Landsdowne place and I promise within 5 minutes you will breathe a sigh of relief that...fuck, you ain't THAT bad. <br /><br />So I go in to place my order. Behind me is this young girl in ripped up fleecey jammy pants with orange-maybe it was once- blonde hair. She has a dirty stroller with a poor little tot up in it. She was yelling in her cell phone about some guy named Danny and how she "just don't give a shit" about some girl named Carla. I'm here for some garlic fingers, but I really just want to take the poor little baby and run. I don't even like babies. I decide to not wait around to see what happens between Carla and Danny and go next door the the Dollar Store. <br /><br />It's sweaty, packed and smells like Pert Plus mixed with some Players Lite. I always wonder why poor people are always so fat. I know vegtables are expensive but how are you affording that much McDonalds? Metabolism my ass! I grab some gum and am told I can't use debit for under $10. I didn't have any change so had to leave without my Trident. Well, who looks like the bum now? <br /><br />On my way back to pick up my garlic fingers this dude with a smoke tucked behind his ear gives me a "hey baby whats up" I did a half smile and quicky got the hell outta dodge. This type of encounter always pisses me off. WHY is it always the douche bags throwin out the pick up lines?!!! Do they feel like they have nothing else to lose?!!! Do they think I am one of them?!!!!!!! (gasp!) and lets just go back to the smoke behind the ear thing. W T F?!! We are living in 2010 and you are pullin THAT fashion statement??! God, if you must be so disgusting at least put it in your pocket....or case? I mean is it really that much easier access to have it behind your EAR?? This really got me going.<br /><br />I get back to the pizza place. Orange haired little Mama is still there. She is feeding the babe donair meat. I'm pretty sure that donair meat makes hot dogs look organic and fresh right? Who feeds their off-spring donair meat? (Or maybe this was Carla's kid??) I get my Garlic Fingers - with 2 donair sauces! and pray that my debit will work here. It do. I find my car (yes, find) and drive away blastin the Luda. I'm so Plaza, So Blvd, and baby I didn't even know it. <br /><br />Ps. I haven't forgotten to take my birth control since.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-52939752374456838522011-01-12T11:02:00.004-04:002011-01-12T18:38:27.978-04:00It's a typical situation in these typical times....So, last night, laying in bed, stuffed full of "Strawberry Daiquiri" Cheesecake (and pizza) reading "The Nine Rooms of Happiness" listening, to David Gray -no freakin less-I had to laugh. Fuck, REALLY? Could I not have waited until at least February so this whole scenario wasn't so PAINFULLY Bridget Jones kinda cliche?! I used to hate girls (er women?) like me. I don't even really like cheesecake. (That's a lie) I just hate people who act like Tony Robbins on Speed just because it's a "New" Year. You are still the same "Old" you right? <br /><br />Regardless, I AM crazeball giddy for 2011. I don't care who rolls their eyes. Last year fucking sucked. The year before was even worse. I mean, It COULD have been worse OF COURSE. I hate it when people say that right?! I could have been diagnosed with the AIDS, and my house could have burned down. "Well it could have been worse Haley, your Mother could have gone to jail and your best friend could have married your Ex too" Nothing makes me feel worse about my life when people "it could be worse" me. Jesus. I am a positive person. So much so, sometimes I think I might be high on euphoric hormones or something. I get the whole "create your own happiness" garbage. Last year still, um sucked.<br /><br />This is turning out to be a bit angst-ier than I intended. Maybe it's the David Gray in combination with the Ray Lamontagne eh? Howevs, A wise friend of mine put it quite simply: You know all the "stuff" that you look back on and think what in the heck was I thinking? So for example: drunk texting exes (term used loosely), eating Dorito's with reckless abandon, not givin a WHAT about really important things just because you don't want to deal with them, allowing toxic friends/people to pollute your "bubble" Etc - THEY/IT DOESN'T BELONG HERE. You just say it. Maybe it has something to do with neural looping. Who knows. So here goes: "Emo Dorito's at 2am: YOU DON'T BELONG HERE" Try it. Swear to Cheesus, it sort of makes you believe you might be able to learn something and evolve. Imagine that.<br /><br />You know what makes me 2 Legit (2 never quit) Happy though? PSYCH SPRING is just around the corner!! A bit over 30 days? If you haven't been enlightened on the BEST holiday on my mental calender then please drop me a text. It'll change your life. If it doesn't, then at least you have an excuse to dance in my kitchen, drink beer, and show off your sexy bods sans winter coats. Like you needed one anyway! and so I digress. See, I'm practicing the phrase...but I still don't get it.<br /><br />I could ramble on about my lame Resolutions or how I'm so grateful for all the wonderful things in my life but maybe all I really want to say is: 2011, you will NOT suck balls like 2009 and 2010. Sucky balls just don't belong here.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-40626347573135638852010-09-24T19:02:00.004-03:002010-09-24T20:46:46.565-03:00Um... I Dunno.I barely remember how to do this. It took me three full minutes to figure out how to type a new post. Ugh. I can't even think of what to say. I just know I have to say something, because if I watch another episode of "Say yes to the Dress" I am going to hold my breath until I hopefully die. Well, not die, but at least sleep for at least 3 consecutive days<br /><br />Soooo, I had another little fixer upper on my foot/ankle. I use the word "little" loosely, of course, as such an adjective (fuck I hope it is an adjective right?) is sort if inappropriate when they knock you out, stuff a big tube down your throat and slice you up, move around muscles,bones and add metal...is this when people say "and so I digress?" I never really understand when to use that, but I always want to. <br /><br />Whatever. So back in the K-Penny. Aka: My Parents House. I woke up this morning with a bulldozer and a big huge "digger thing" right outside my window. Oh my nerves. Dad picked this week to build a garage. A structure they have nicknamed "Garage-Mahal" Clever huh? Riiiight. Anyway, so what this really means is I can't hear the TV, my Ipod or the Phone because the world is literally EXPLODING outside my window. Did I mention I can't get out of bed? However on a positive note, they have prescribed me a plethera of narcotics that make the world pretty fucking rosey. I should probably stop saying fuck. <br /><br />I didn't mean for this to be such a downer. My mom makes me Oat-cake sundae's every morning and brings me coffee in bed, we watch TMZ and braid my hair, I get lots of pity presents and can creep out my third cousins and ex boyfriends all day long on facebook...there are worse things I suppose. <br /><br />Alright my toe is dipped. I'll jump back in tomorrow. Maybe.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-86876325096733129712010-03-18T13:36:00.004-03:002010-03-18T14:46:15.224-03:00Tramp Stamp ExtrordinaireI have been a bit lazy on the blog front. Really, I don't have a lot to say. Well, that's a lie. I (of course) I have a LOT to say, but really nothing I want to ramble about on the word wide inter-web. <br /><br />Lately I have been thinking. Not deep thinking, but just thinkin. (maybe it's the 30th Birthday coming up?) Thinking about "things I wish I knew then" sorta stuff. The more I think of said stuff - maybe I don't wish I REALLY knew then because...then it wouldn't be my life. Right? <br /><br />I am sure we all have similar wish lists. If I were to write myself an FYI 10 years ago it might look something like this:<br /><br /><br />Dear Young and Foolish Hales, <br /><br />First of all, I hope you are enjoying living at your parents house, using their car, having all your bills paid, laundry done and meals made to your exact preference. <br /><br />You might want to quit the raging bitch routine you got goin on with your Mom. Also, you will miss your jerk - face brother when he's no longer there (to annoy the living shit out of you) so lock it up already.<br /><br />Take a good look in the mirror. Don't be so critical. This is as good as it gets for you - enjoy it now because you won't always be able to eat KFC and chug "wine coolers" with reckless abandon. Also, while we are on the topic, I know you think you love tequila, but honestly tequila doesn't love you.<br /><br />Wear sunscreen. I know you think you look better with a tan, but in a few years you will seriously regret it. I hear skin cancer ain't a party. Paying $400 for glycolic facial peels isn't so hot either. <br /><br />Right now you might THINK you are Britney Spears. That's cool. Whats NOT cool is that heart you are gonna get stamped on your lower back. Sorry sweetie, but you are never gonna be taken seriously at the beach or in bed ever again. Unless he has an arm band of course. <br /><br />I know you think you're pretty smart, but maybe you should actually attend your classes at University instead of doing unmentionable random activities. How lame, I know, but suck it up. When you get older "life" gets in the way and you won't have the rents payin the tuition that you are pissin away at Chippies.<br /><br />Be careful with your relationships. In the end how you treat others (and yourself) is what really matters. You might want to try, but you can't change people. You shouldn't WANT to change them. If you do, then that is YOUR problem, not theirs. <br /><br />Everyone doesn't HAVE to like you. You don't HAVE to be friends with everyone. You can say No and not follow it up with an I'm sorry. It's ok to ask for help. It's ok to be sad. It's ok to be so happy your cheeks hurt. No one cares if your bra doesn't match your panties. Be good to the people who are good to you. Be kind to the ones who suck. Recycle. Learn how to compost. Eat greens. Have fun with your hair color. Don't use too much white frosty eye shadow. Do lotsa kissin. Don't worry so much. Tell your Dad he's awesome. Seven jeans won't really change your life but they will change your ass. Sing, Dance, Travel and Floss. Upper hand is for insecure losers period. <br /><br />When you "borrow" your parents car please remember to clean it up a bit before returning. This will save you years of humiliation.<br /><br />DO NOT sign up for that grocery store credit card.<br /><br />Smile. Life is short, and you are only "young" once.<br /><br />Love,<br /><br />The not as young but still pretty foolish, <br />HalesAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-68077809135418376672010-03-09T17:00:00.000-04:002010-03-09T19:03:29.190-04:00Don't want no Paper Gangsters<div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Top Ten Reasons why it's Great to be Single:</strong><br /></span><br /></div>1. You can use it as an excuse for pretty much everything. Well almost everything. The younger you are the more this applies. Single girls DO have more Fun.<br /><br />2. You can write off all lingerie purchases as a sexy business expense.<br /><br />3. No dirty white socks ALL over the floor ALL the flipping time.<br /><br />4. No more sharing the ice cream, covers or remote.<br /><br />5. You don't have to pretend to like his Mother.<br /><br />6. It's girls night EVERY night and lets be honest, if you get tired of em it can be a Boy(s) night too.<br /><br />7. Single girls have THE best hair, THE best wardrobes and THE best asses.<br /><br />8. Everything you buy is YOURS and it's all about YOU.<br /><br />9. Variety really IS the spice of life<br /><br />10. You NEVER have to fake it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574579148400537336.post-18980744340346256302010-02-10T12:34:00.004-04:002010-02-10T13:31:59.359-04:00Greasy GoodnessPhycological Spring is near my friends!<br /><br />I woke up this mornin with a goofy grin, mad sexy bed head and a glorious tingle in my ankle.<br /><br />February 14th is my Phycological Spring- for those not in the know. Every year on such day my brain shuts out Winter and has a proverbial Luau. It can snow 50 feet on February 15th and I ain't mad at it. It's Spring biotch! It has been this way for as long as I can remember. It helps that my Mom always made a HUGE deal outta Valentines Day. I really don't understand all you haters. I get that it's totally a commercial money grab - but so is EVERY holiday - including your stupid birthday (that no one really cares about) - so get over it. If you are single then get over that too and buy yourself some fucking chocolate. In fact, because V-Day/Phyc. Spring is my favorite day of the year (other than my birthday of course-ha) I get lots of gifts. So take a hint from Misses Lova and mark it on your calender as Phyc. Spring - It'll change your life.<br /><br />Moving on, I have appointed a new "uniform" It's a fleecy hot pink, off the shoulder, knee length number that makes the "Red Suit" (old uniform) look LuLu Lemon-esque (?) Sportin bed head and new uni I decided to make bacon n eggs this morning. Whats better than THAT on a hump day right? (other than actual humping but lets not go there) The lyrical genius - Ray Lamontagne is the mid week soundtrack. Do y'all do that? Like have certain songs that just flow through your mind all day and they sorta mold or define the day? Like yesterday was a mix of JayZ and Michael Bolton. Not one of my better days.<br /><br />So, makin bacon. Previous viewers have commented on how weird it is I don't have a "grease tin" I always pour it into a mug. I empty it later in the day and then put it in the dishwasher. Why keep a disgusting tin or bottle or whatever you normal people use under the sink? I have been enlightened. I was rockin (right OUT) to Ray's rendition of "Crazy" (appropriate) on my fourth cup of coffee when I mistakenly swigged the mug of grease. EPIC ERROR. It dribbled down my chin and everything. I was able to hack half of it in the sink. Thankfully, Earley was my only witness and I KNOW he was laughing. Then again he loves bacon fat so maybe not? To make the situation that much awesomeerr I had a chemical peel yesterday (I know I know) and am not aloud to wash my face (with soap) till tomorrow. Eau de bacon fat anyone?<br /><br />It actually tasted kinda good. So whatevs. 4 more days!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13586359023714895821noreply@blogger.com0