I'm having one of those Sunday nights that make you want to curl up and never go back to work, put on pants or really do ANYTHING that involves leaving your comfy, cozy bed.
I should be AMPED considering Psychological Spring is right around the corner. I should also be happily filling out my V-Tines (yes I do that at 31.5 years of age) but that seems like too much work. I should also be paying my bills, doing laundry, washing my dirty floor or even calling my Mother back, but that also seems like too much work. Even typing this is a bit laboring. I might have to just over dose on my $75 worth of Wal-Mart chocolate.
Is it too soon to say "over dose?"
(yes)
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)
Fuck.
I know that shouldn't be worse, but it seems worse to me. No offence to all you wonderful mothers and wives out there. I am sure you look at me and think "I would never want to be that single girl" and that's fine. I think the point, I am half heartedly, trying to make is:
Maybe what I thought I always wanted I don't actually want.
Honestly, that is pretty terrifying. You grow up thinking I am going to grow up, have a wonderful career, meet a gorgeous man, have beautiful babies and live happily ever after.
Then life happens.
I think I still want these things, but I certainly know these things are not going to make me "happy"
I am "happy" NOW.
I often feel like some of my married up friends cannot believe this is actually possible, but I have no desire to go home and "make supper" or have pre planned "date nights" That to me is scarier than being alone and even maybe infertile.
Then there are the people who think that I am just "making the best of an unfortunate situation" - These ones should be in line to die first. I believe it is more of a "Small Town" attitude, Not that I am "Big City" by ANY stretch, but lets not get off topic.
Just because I don't have a significant other or drooly off-spring does not make me less than you. It also doesn't mean there is anything "wrong" with me (although some may beg to differ) and on Valentines day I don't want ANY sympathy. I can pretty much guarantee my day will be spectacular, and if it isn't - I have no one to blame but myself. Isn't that true for every day anyway?
I'm not saying I don't WANT to meet a wonderful man. Let's not get silly here. I actually have met quite a few - However, when I actually end up dating one (for longer than 2.4 seconds) you will not hear me say "He makes me so happy" or "I finally feel complete" or "I just didn't realize what I was missing" because that just isn't so. I love living my own life, doing exactly what I want - all of the time, if that is what I want - at that time.
I have taken the time to realize what makes ME happy. It isn't someone else. Do I think someone (who also knows what makes them happy alone) would be a nice addition? absolutely.
I feel like this is turning into a cranky feminist after school special. That was not my intention. Everyone knows I ain't no feminist. Although, I sort of wish I was...
I have also given up on the notion I will one day feel like "a grown up" That whole thing is a myth. Sort of like the Tooth Fairy. We get older, but never really "grow up" To me this is a happy realization. My point being: Expect Valentines for the next 50 years.
Love & Kisses,
HP
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Sunday, January 1, 2012
A Vagillion Resollution
January 1st, 2012
Interesting how a simple date on the calender makes all you "Negative Nellie's" born again "Happy Pants". I'm a self proclaimed "happy pants" all year long thank you very much. That's a bit of an exaggeration as most of the time I'm either "faking out functional" or drunk. However, that's neither here nor there and what I REALLY mean is: Shut the fuck up you idiots.
Don't get me wrong, my toe gets tingly this time of year, I do like the thought of a "fresh start" I make thoughtful resolutions and even write lists. I just don't talk about it like a LAME ASS. Well...I talk about it to my besties a bit, but they already know what a lame ass I am. I think It's too late to save face around the people who have seen me dance to Rod Steward in my "I love mullets" panties.
Howevies! I am a people pleaser AND I also secretly love "THE SECRET" and if you don't know what that is - You win at life. Trust me. Don't read it, it will make you crazyballtastico. Point is, THE SECRET says: If you write it down, it will make it happen (or something like that?) So I'll indulge you in a few of my "brutes resolutes"
1. Actually READ two newspapers at least 4 times a week. Cover to cover. Not just browse my "lucky love days" in the horoscope section. My current event knowledge is embarrassingly pathetic.
2. Re-Learn how to SLEEP. Sleep is the new Sex - Nympho that! I'm tired of being tired. Tired of whining about being tired. Tired of taking sleep aids and waking up drugged and drooly faced until I chug 3 cold Americano's. I am going to do EVERYTHING possible to correct this problem naturally. If it means no late weekends for a while then so be it. If sleep is the new sex, lets get it on.
3. Hit the snooze button twice in the morning instead of seven times. Hopefully better sleeping will aid in this resolution. No more being frazzle frantic late every morning. Maybe, if I'm feeling REALLY motivated, I'll show up early so I can read the paper at my desk like an intelligent adult. Unlikely, but my hopes are high.
So lets see if I follow through. The first time you see me check in to "Liquorville" at 2am on facebook you have my full permission to call me a weak loser. You can also assume that this "sleep is the new sex" business is a farce. Not that "Liquorville" equals sex parse, but maybe I am drinking the celibacy away? Whatever.
Oh, and while on the topic of sex, celibacy and resolutions I am going to try and "Date Smarter". Whatever that even means? Earlier today my best friend reminded me of this little love tragedy:
"Remember you went on a date to KFC and the dude sat there and drank WATER while you horked a big crunch combo with gravy?!"
Yeah, That actually happened to me. He also "flexed his pex" when we embraced post binge. Seriously. I wanted to puke an entire bucket of erbs and spices all over his face. It was HIS idea to go there. I laughed, then cried all the way home.
Oh! and on a completely separate note - Guess WHAT? My World Vision Sponsor bambino hit the bricks! Like, left town! They can't find her or her fam. The letter informed me that her "Father may have taken them away to find work" - Likely story World Vision. Who the hell writes those letters anyway?! Jesus Heck. I was hoping for a full refund BUT included in my MIA letter was a new kid. She's not even as cute. So up went Dora #2 on the fridge. She is beside Dora #1. Even though the first one flew the coop, I want to ensure people think I sponsor not just ONE but two little urchins. I'm such a giver.
Oh and while on the topic of Mexico, I just returned. So YES, My loving, passive aggressive Father decided to allow his life failing daughter to come. Christmas was not cancelled! We have never spoken of his "I'm re thinking Mexico text" I think he knows it was a major parenting fail. I'm not saying I deserved an all expenses paid luxury vacation - as I sure as susie tipps didn't - but come on Gary, pick up your game a little.
So yes, Mexico: doing a fam jam vaca as an adult is a real eye opener. Especially when the booze is free flowing and by free flowing I mean chugged in massive quantities. One night my mother mistook the shower in my room to be the toilet. It was like looking in the mirror. Not that I mistake showers for toilets often, but I do sometimes fall up walk ways and am unable to get up. Sometimes. Full out dancing at 10am on the swim up bar was a highlight. The guacamole was heavenly. The sun was delicious. The "massage therapist" was a "GORGEOUS HUNK" (as per my Mother) Pretty sure he wasn't certified, but with that face? pshhhhhh who needs paper? Oh did I mention I didn't have to shave anything ONCE? Take that! laser hair removal rules! My dad also decided this was the perfect time to read "Wheat Belly" - you know, the anti wheat/flour bible? So every day at the buffet he would quip "Is this wheat free?" I wanted to kill him. It's your 7th slushy "Mandarin Sour" of the day and you are worried about the hamburger bun?! Pass the tequila please. My brother just smiled the entire week. He is much nicer than I am. He also put double shots of Baileys in his morning coffee's therefor nicer AND smarter. I am also going on record and stating orange is the new black. This tan is so George Hamilton.
Guess what else? 6 weeks until my favorite "holiday" of the year: PSYCHOLOGICAL SPRING!
2012 is here - lets just do the best we can to NOT make sleep the new sex, NEVER EVER "flex our Pex", Wear sunscreen, and dance on that bar - Happy Pants not required.
XOXXOXOXOX!!!!!!!!
Interesting how a simple date on the calender makes all you "Negative Nellie's" born again "Happy Pants". I'm a self proclaimed "happy pants" all year long thank you very much. That's a bit of an exaggeration as most of the time I'm either "faking out functional" or drunk. However, that's neither here nor there and what I REALLY mean is: Shut the fuck up you idiots.
Don't get me wrong, my toe gets tingly this time of year, I do like the thought of a "fresh start" I make thoughtful resolutions and even write lists. I just don't talk about it like a LAME ASS. Well...I talk about it to my besties a bit, but they already know what a lame ass I am. I think It's too late to save face around the people who have seen me dance to Rod Steward in my "I love mullets" panties.
Howevies! I am a people pleaser AND I also secretly love "THE SECRET" and if you don't know what that is - You win at life. Trust me. Don't read it, it will make you crazyballtastico. Point is, THE SECRET says: If you write it down, it will make it happen (or something like that?) So I'll indulge you in a few of my "brutes resolutes"
1. Actually READ two newspapers at least 4 times a week. Cover to cover. Not just browse my "lucky love days" in the horoscope section. My current event knowledge is embarrassingly pathetic.
2. Re-Learn how to SLEEP. Sleep is the new Sex - Nympho that! I'm tired of being tired. Tired of whining about being tired. Tired of taking sleep aids and waking up drugged and drooly faced until I chug 3 cold Americano's. I am going to do EVERYTHING possible to correct this problem naturally. If it means no late weekends for a while then so be it. If sleep is the new sex, lets get it on.
3. Hit the snooze button twice in the morning instead of seven times. Hopefully better sleeping will aid in this resolution. No more being frazzle frantic late every morning. Maybe, if I'm feeling REALLY motivated, I'll show up early so I can read the paper at my desk like an intelligent adult. Unlikely, but my hopes are high.
So lets see if I follow through. The first time you see me check in to "Liquorville" at 2am on facebook you have my full permission to call me a weak loser. You can also assume that this "sleep is the new sex" business is a farce. Not that "Liquorville" equals sex parse, but maybe I am drinking the celibacy away? Whatever.
Oh, and while on the topic of sex, celibacy and resolutions I am going to try and "Date Smarter". Whatever that even means? Earlier today my best friend reminded me of this little love tragedy:
"Remember you went on a date to KFC and the dude sat there and drank WATER while you horked a big crunch combo with gravy?!"
Yeah, That actually happened to me. He also "flexed his pex" when we embraced post binge. Seriously. I wanted to puke an entire bucket of erbs and spices all over his face. It was HIS idea to go there. I laughed, then cried all the way home.
Oh! and on a completely separate note - Guess WHAT? My World Vision Sponsor bambino hit the bricks! Like, left town! They can't find her or her fam. The letter informed me that her "Father may have taken them away to find work" - Likely story World Vision. Who the hell writes those letters anyway?! Jesus Heck. I was hoping for a full refund BUT included in my MIA letter was a new kid. She's not even as cute. So up went Dora #2 on the fridge. She is beside Dora #1. Even though the first one flew the coop, I want to ensure people think I sponsor not just ONE but two little urchins. I'm such a giver.
Oh and while on the topic of Mexico, I just returned. So YES, My loving, passive aggressive Father decided to allow his life failing daughter to come. Christmas was not cancelled! We have never spoken of his "I'm re thinking Mexico text" I think he knows it was a major parenting fail. I'm not saying I deserved an all expenses paid luxury vacation - as I sure as susie tipps didn't - but come on Gary, pick up your game a little.
So yes, Mexico: doing a fam jam vaca as an adult is a real eye opener. Especially when the booze is free flowing and by free flowing I mean chugged in massive quantities. One night my mother mistook the shower in my room to be the toilet. It was like looking in the mirror. Not that I mistake showers for toilets often, but I do sometimes fall up walk ways and am unable to get up. Sometimes. Full out dancing at 10am on the swim up bar was a highlight. The guacamole was heavenly. The sun was delicious. The "massage therapist" was a "GORGEOUS HUNK" (as per my Mother) Pretty sure he wasn't certified, but with that face? pshhhhhh who needs paper? Oh did I mention I didn't have to shave anything ONCE? Take that! laser hair removal rules! My dad also decided this was the perfect time to read "Wheat Belly" - you know, the anti wheat/flour bible? So every day at the buffet he would quip "Is this wheat free?" I wanted to kill him. It's your 7th slushy "Mandarin Sour" of the day and you are worried about the hamburger bun?! Pass the tequila please. My brother just smiled the entire week. He is much nicer than I am. He also put double shots of Baileys in his morning coffee's therefor nicer AND smarter. I am also going on record and stating orange is the new black. This tan is so George Hamilton.
Guess what else? 6 weeks until my favorite "holiday" of the year: PSYCHOLOGICAL SPRING!
2012 is here - lets just do the best we can to NOT make sleep the new sex, NEVER EVER "flex our Pex", Wear sunscreen, and dance on that bar - Happy Pants not required.
XOXXOXOXOX!!!!!!!!
Friday, September 30, 2011
Psyc!... I mean Sike!....or I mean...
Yeah.
So I just clogged the toilet flooding my entire second floor bathroom. It trickled through the floor, down the wall, pooling in the front entrance. If this doesn't sum up my ENTIRE shit storm of a life then I just don't know what do.
I flushed rotting chili (note: It came from a Tupperware NOT my person) It was filled with mold. It was the only thing left in my fridge other than wine, beer and soda water.
Don't even get me started on why I actually went up two flights of stairs to flush the moldy beans. I have a bathroom right off of my kitchen.
I was running around my WREAK of a house (in a disgusting second hand boy sports tee) trying to clean it up when the door bell rang. It was World Vision. I almost fell to my knees and started whaling.
They were coming for a follow up visit. Oh God. I'm not wearing pants and smell like Eau de Chili toilette.
To make a long story short, I sponsored a child last month because they came to my door and sang Sarah McLaughlin for like 72 minutes straight. I can't feed myself little own some poor mini Mexican - HOWEVER sometimes I feel like I don't do enough charitable shit, so just gave in.
Have I mentioned I NEED A SPONSOR?!!!
Anyway. I ended up getting a picture in the mail, put it on my fridge, and I truly believe looking at that sweet little girl (that I cannot afford) every morning has chipped away at my sanity (not to mention soul) for the past month. I mean, How can I call and cancel?!! It's like - this 7 year old is all stoked, that she gets to eat one meal a day, to only get a SIKE!?!!! Just Jokin' maybe next time!!
Oh hi hell.
They were just inquiring if I had received all of my info and if I was interested in Christmas boxes or something or other. I literally started to silently hyperventilate and just murmured something about being sick.
My mother saw the picture on my fridge and was like "HAVE YOU LOST YOUR LOVING MIND?!?!! You have lost it, Oh my God!, You have Lost.Your.Mind. It has finally happened! Call your brother. Oh.My.God."
Yup. I haven't been to work all week. It all started with insane puking and ended in peeing blood. The garbage in between is both disturbing, disgusting and truly devastating. So I digress.
Speaking of Mexico. My family and I are supposed to go for Christmas. How IRONIC. I have to renew my passport. Passport photo's are totes comical right? I found my old room mates passport pics a couple months ago. They earned a spot on my fridge next to Dora. That little darling.
When my Mom had her pic done the chick at Sears was like:
"Ma'am You have to open your eyes"
Mom: " They are open honey - you just can't see them because I'm wrinkled and fat"
Golden.
Upon completion, she went on to tell my Father:
"With Pictures like these we shouldn't be aloud in our OWN Country for Christ sake"
For the record my Mother is beautiful with a big smile and deep set eyes so sometimes they disappear a bit. Come on Sears chick. Get a clue.
So anyway, THAT said...My FATHER drops me a text this morning saying: "I'm really disappointed in you, I'm re-thinking Mexico"
Really?!!! This is my life?!!
Dude. I'm 31 and my punishment for being an utter life failure is not going to Mexico with my parents like a huge loser?! This made me laugh. I definately do NOT deserve a Corona Christmas. Everyone knows that. It's just to have your Father call you out via text when you are 31 - it sort of rips your heart out. If said heart
hadn't been workin overtime - You know, pissin out blood all week - I may have thought twice before putting this in a blog.
Well, Cheers to the freakin' Weekin'! (cause that's the only way it actually rhymes yo!) Everyone I know is a mess, a wreak. At least we're all in it together. If you have your shit together right now I don't even want to know you. Unless you are going to deliver cake and are uglier than me. Like, both at the same time. Just kidding, of course. Pretty people can bring me cake too. Just don't look at me.
Seriously, anyone who knows ANYTHING knows I am one of the luckiest. I'm just trying to make the rest of you feel better becaaaaaause I'm thoughtful AND sweet AND not at all selfish and feeling sorry for myself.
Much Meep-y Love,
Hales
Ps. For all of you looking for a "laser hair removal update" --
I ain't got one. I'm too busy feeding the fucking world :)
So I just clogged the toilet flooding my entire second floor bathroom. It trickled through the floor, down the wall, pooling in the front entrance. If this doesn't sum up my ENTIRE shit storm of a life then I just don't know what do.
I flushed rotting chili (note: It came from a Tupperware NOT my person) It was filled with mold. It was the only thing left in my fridge other than wine, beer and soda water.
Don't even get me started on why I actually went up two flights of stairs to flush the moldy beans. I have a bathroom right off of my kitchen.
I was running around my WREAK of a house (in a disgusting second hand boy sports tee) trying to clean it up when the door bell rang. It was World Vision. I almost fell to my knees and started whaling.
They were coming for a follow up visit. Oh God. I'm not wearing pants and smell like Eau de Chili toilette.
To make a long story short, I sponsored a child last month because they came to my door and sang Sarah McLaughlin for like 72 minutes straight. I can't feed myself little own some poor mini Mexican - HOWEVER sometimes I feel like I don't do enough charitable shit, so just gave in.
Have I mentioned I NEED A SPONSOR?!!!
Anyway. I ended up getting a picture in the mail, put it on my fridge, and I truly believe looking at that sweet little girl (that I cannot afford) every morning has chipped away at my sanity (not to mention soul) for the past month. I mean, How can I call and cancel?!! It's like - this 7 year old is all stoked, that she gets to eat one meal a day, to only get a SIKE!?!!! Just Jokin' maybe next time!!
Oh hi hell.
They were just inquiring if I had received all of my info and if I was interested in Christmas boxes or something or other. I literally started to silently hyperventilate and just murmured something about being sick.
My mother saw the picture on my fridge and was like "HAVE YOU LOST YOUR LOVING MIND?!?!! You have lost it, Oh my God!, You have Lost.Your.Mind. It has finally happened! Call your brother. Oh.My.God."
Yup. I haven't been to work all week. It all started with insane puking and ended in peeing blood. The garbage in between is both disturbing, disgusting and truly devastating. So I digress.
Speaking of Mexico. My family and I are supposed to go for Christmas. How IRONIC. I have to renew my passport. Passport photo's are totes comical right? I found my old room mates passport pics a couple months ago. They earned a spot on my fridge next to Dora. That little darling.
When my Mom had her pic done the chick at Sears was like:
"Ma'am You have to open your eyes"
Mom: " They are open honey - you just can't see them because I'm wrinkled and fat"
Golden.
Upon completion, she went on to tell my Father:
"With Pictures like these we shouldn't be aloud in our OWN Country for Christ sake"
For the record my Mother is beautiful with a big smile and deep set eyes so sometimes they disappear a bit. Come on Sears chick. Get a clue.
So anyway, THAT said...My FATHER drops me a text this morning saying: "I'm really disappointed in you, I'm re-thinking Mexico"
Really?!!! This is my life?!!
Dude. I'm 31 and my punishment for being an utter life failure is not going to Mexico with my parents like a huge loser?! This made me laugh. I definately do NOT deserve a Corona Christmas. Everyone knows that. It's just to have your Father call you out via text when you are 31 - it sort of rips your heart out. If said heart
hadn't been workin overtime - You know, pissin out blood all week - I may have thought twice before putting this in a blog.
Well, Cheers to the freakin' Weekin'! (cause that's the only way it actually rhymes yo!) Everyone I know is a mess, a wreak. At least we're all in it together. If you have your shit together right now I don't even want to know you. Unless you are going to deliver cake and are uglier than me. Like, both at the same time. Just kidding, of course. Pretty people can bring me cake too. Just don't look at me.
Seriously, anyone who knows ANYTHING knows I am one of the luckiest. I'm just trying to make the rest of you feel better becaaaaaause I'm thoughtful AND sweet AND not at all selfish and feeling sorry for myself.
Much Meep-y Love,
Hales
Ps. For all of you looking for a "laser hair removal update" --
I ain't got one. I'm too busy feeding the fucking world :)
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Hipster Cows say Mooh
I'm the kind of person who puts the frying pan in the dishwasher expecting it to actually come out clean. The Egg-y omelet pan. I figure one of these days it's gonna wash off. There is this one SPOON (covered in boiled egg cement) that I have put through the cycle 4 times. Every time I do it, I'm not sure why I'm bothering, but I guess it's easier than actually taking the 22 seconds to wash by hand - and now it's become a "lets see how many times I will let this go on" sort of brain game.
I planned on being productive this evening but one thing led to butter chicken (with a side of gossip) and now I think the curry is burning a hole in my stomach. I'm not sure what went wrong, but I drank a half a bottle of pepto and am afraid to move more than my fingers. I have an iron tummy for frig sakes. This never happens. Ugh. Hopefully I'm not getting Irritable Bowel in my old age. That would suck.
Tomorrow ends my week long Birthday celebrations. I am sure many are relieved. My brothers early morning Text from out West:
"Holy Shit you're old. I'll call you later when you have had time to sober up and realize it - Happy Birthday Hayla" (the bastard was tongue tied as a child)
For an entire week I have eaten cake at every meal, drank wayyyy too many cocktails and sang along with a few too many "Happy Birthday to youuuuu's" My wonderful friends and family humor my silliness, which makes me smile, but I think I need some straight up veggie juice and a good cry. I need to even out all the "sweet sticky happy frosting" with a few "green sludgy fibre tears" Find my center maybe?
Then again...I mean speaking of eggs, sore tummies and getting 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.
Back to the delicious Butter Chicken....As I type I am CERTAIN the curry poison has taken over my entire body - I still wouldn't take it back. I'm blaming the permanent hang over for making me eat EVERY SINGLE feeling I have felt this week. Blech. The entire Cherry Chip Cake was a bit much - Even for my super sized, often slightly exaggerated and irrational feelings. Ooh I have Lindor's in the freezer...
My Mother doesn't help matters. She gave me this yellowed old fashioned looking card for my birthday. Inside it says:
Dearest Haley Kathleen,
(then a cute n' sweet poem that I'll spare you)
- I'm not that cheap that I couldn't buy you a card. This is a card my Mother gave me when I turned 31. When she gave it to me she couldn't remember my name or the date so she just gave it to me blank. (my Granny had Alzthimers) So in a way this is from me and your Grandmother. What an OLD card eh?
I love you baby girl - Your MaMa
At first I laughed, then I cried - a bit uncontrollably.
It think this is where the entire cake came in.
Anyway, I shouldn't have brought that up. I'm going to get the Lindor's and an Extra Strengh Muscle Relaxer. Ooh, I think I'll start up the dish washer too! - Round 5 - Baby, I'm feelin' lucky!
I planned on being productive this evening but one thing led to butter chicken (with a side of gossip) and now I think the curry is burning a hole in my stomach. I'm not sure what went wrong, but I drank a half a bottle of pepto and am afraid to move more than my fingers. I have an iron tummy for frig sakes. This never happens. Ugh. Hopefully I'm not getting Irritable Bowel in my old age. That would suck.
Tomorrow ends my week long Birthday celebrations. I am sure many are relieved. My brothers early morning Text from out West:
"Holy Shit you're old. I'll call you later when you have had time to sober up and realize it - Happy Birthday Hayla" (the bastard was tongue tied as a child)
For an entire week I have eaten cake at every meal, drank wayyyy too many cocktails and sang along with a few too many "Happy Birthday to youuuuu's" My wonderful friends and family humor my silliness, which makes me smile, but I think I need some straight up veggie juice and a good cry. I need to even out all the "sweet sticky happy frosting" with a few "green sludgy fibre tears" Find my center maybe?
Then again...I mean speaking of eggs, sore tummies and getting 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.
Back to the delicious Butter Chicken....As I type I am CERTAIN the curry poison has taken over my entire body - I still wouldn't take it back. I'm blaming the permanent hang over for making me eat EVERY SINGLE feeling I have felt this week. Blech. The entire Cherry Chip Cake was a bit much - Even for my super sized, often slightly exaggerated and irrational feelings. Ooh I have Lindor's in the freezer...
My Mother doesn't help matters. She gave me this yellowed old fashioned looking card for my birthday. Inside it says:
Dearest Haley Kathleen,
(then a cute n' sweet poem that I'll spare you)
- I'm not that cheap that I couldn't buy you a card. This is a card my Mother gave me when I turned 31. When she gave it to me she couldn't remember my name or the date so she just gave it to me blank. (my Granny had Alzthimers) So in a way this is from me and your Grandmother. What an OLD card eh?
I love you baby girl - Your MaMa
At first I laughed, then I cried - a bit uncontrollably.
It think this is where the entire cake came in.
Anyway, I shouldn't have brought that up. I'm going to get the Lindor's and an Extra Strengh Muscle Relaxer. Ooh, I think I'll start up the dish washer too! - Round 5 - Baby, I'm feelin' lucky!
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Hate-orade, Hate-cation, Hate-ville, Hate-isms.
My attitude has taken a wrong turn.
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.
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?
This is what I hate about others and the world in general - this week:
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Night Night!
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.
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?
This is what I hate about others and the world in general - this week:
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Night Night!
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Are you there NJDP? It's me...Hales.
"I think the reason ya still ain't married is cause you make the worst dang coffee I've ever tasted darlin" - Grampie Pollock
That among other things Grampie.
My Grampie always reminds me of my brother.
I need my brother to come home. I need him to come home, like, RIGHT NOW.
I can't handle my wonderful wacky-wonk-ball family any longer without him.
I can't survive another day not lunching on his delicious food creations.
I can't handle not having the best movies and HBO shows on demand.
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.
I can't handle not having him here to "knock the teeth outta" anyone who even looks at me side ways.
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!
I need your bad attitude around - it keeps me level.
I need you to stain my deck.
I need you to piggy back me around when I get tired and sweaty.
I need you to make me some brownies.
I need to see you dance around with Mom in the Kitchen. You make her smile in a way that no one else can.
I need for you tell me the truth.
I need for you to teach me how to drive a standard now that my left toes don't work.
I need you to "knock the teeth outta" my neighbor.
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.
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.
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"
I need for you to fix my laptop that I gummed up with I dunno what.
I need for you to be my human GPS and to grab the wheel when I almost die - every time I drive.
I need for you to cook Thanksgiving dinner this year because Mom is threatening to have it at my house.
I need you here to tell me that Saint John is "backwards" and that no one out west even THINKS about marriage until 30.
I need you to tell Grampie to choke on his false teeth and that my coffee isn't that bad.
I need for you to sing Fleetwood Mac songs with me when I'm sad.
I need for you to come home so that I can sleep again.
It's time jerk face. Really.
That among other things Grampie.
My Grampie always reminds me of my brother.
I need my brother to come home. I need him to come home, like, RIGHT NOW.
I can't handle my wonderful wacky-wonk-ball family any longer without him.
I can't survive another day not lunching on his delicious food creations.
I can't handle not having the best movies and HBO shows on demand.
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.
I can't handle not having him here to "knock the teeth outta" anyone who even looks at me side ways.
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!
I need your bad attitude around - it keeps me level.
I need you to stain my deck.
I need you to piggy back me around when I get tired and sweaty.
I need you to make me some brownies.
I need to see you dance around with Mom in the Kitchen. You make her smile in a way that no one else can.
I need for you tell me the truth.
I need for you to teach me how to drive a standard now that my left toes don't work.
I need you to "knock the teeth outta" my neighbor.
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.
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.
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"
I need for you to fix my laptop that I gummed up with I dunno what.
I need for you to be my human GPS and to grab the wheel when I almost die - every time I drive.
I need for you to cook Thanksgiving dinner this year because Mom is threatening to have it at my house.
I need you here to tell me that Saint John is "backwards" and that no one out west even THINKS about marriage until 30.
I need you to tell Grampie to choke on his false teeth and that my coffee isn't that bad.
I need for you to sing Fleetwood Mac songs with me when I'm sad.
I need for you to come home so that I can sleep again.
It's time jerk face. Really.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Chunky Monkeys Make More Love
Soooo 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.
Now that we are moving into June, none of my clothes fit, but I don't mind.
Honestly, Girls who eat dessert DO have more fun.
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)
I believe I am coming into the summer a more enlightened person.
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.
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.
I was watching Piers Morgan the other night - he said, and I quote:
"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"
Please note, he did say 7 pounds, not 15! but who's counting.
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.
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.
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.
Oh, and in efforts to not waste my delicious May adventure - Here is, in my opinion, the top 5 cake locations in Saint John.
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.
4. Starbucks Mini Carrot Cake Cupcakes. Cute and fabulous.
3. Urban Deli -- this cake actually has cream cheese marbled through the cake. It is an amazing dessert experience.
2. Britts -- This cake wins for the BEST ICING.
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.
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.
Let's make the best of it.
XOXOX
Now that we are moving into June, none of my clothes fit, but I don't mind.
Honestly, Girls who eat dessert DO have more fun.
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)
I believe I am coming into the summer a more enlightened person.
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.
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.
I was watching Piers Morgan the other night - he said, and I quote:
"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"
Please note, he did say 7 pounds, not 15! but who's counting.
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.
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.
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.
Oh, and in efforts to not waste my delicious May adventure - Here is, in my opinion, the top 5 cake locations in Saint John.
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.
4. Starbucks Mini Carrot Cake Cupcakes. Cute and fabulous.
3. Urban Deli -- this cake actually has cream cheese marbled through the cake. It is an amazing dessert experience.
2. Britts -- This cake wins for the BEST ICING.
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.
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.
Let's make the best of it.
XOXOX
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