Oh, life.
I've had a wacky little go of it lately.
Isn't it funny, that we become so consumed with our own "life dramas" that we.... "forget what is really important?"
What the fuck IS that again?!
We are all the same. We are not special. Our parents lied.
Oh, and Guess what? YES, it "Could always be worse" but how is that even relevant for anyone with half a brain?
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.
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.
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.
" Well, I'm sorry to hear about your dog, but at least you're not living in Japan where your whole family is missing"
Ok, so now I'm supposed to be full blown depressed because I am a loser for even feeling sad in the first place?
Earley is not dead, and I am certainly not depressed. I'm just saying, it pisses me off.
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.
That makes me smile.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
What I know at 30...
One of my besties sent me this last week...I love it - and her very much!
Thought everyone should take a peek, and a little read, cause she's a pretty smart cookie...
What I know at 30 - By T. Dupuis
First of all,
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.
There will never be "enough" time, but the time I spend doing anything worthwhile can never be rushed, wasted, or multi-tasked.
A cookie a day ain't ever killed nobody. And two a day has likely saved several lives.
Flossing is really not a hassle once you get into the habit.
In fact, the most success I've achieved in this life so far can be whittled down to acquiring good habits.
Crying does not make you weak; it often shows just the opposite: vulnerable courage.
A lot of the moments closest to perfection are quite ones.
Sometimes hugs are the greatest gifts I've ever received.
30 is much too young to be wise and it's way too old to be naive.
Some mistakes NEED to be learned over and over and over.
Credit cards are the devil.
Being single is much better when you have a pet.
Confidence and ambition are the 2 sexiest things a person can exhibit AND they don't sag with age.
I am proud of my laughter wrinkles, the callouses on my feet and the freckles on my face.
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.
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.
Thought everyone should take a peek, and a little read, cause she's a pretty smart cookie...
What I know at 30 - By T. Dupuis
First of all,
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.
There will never be "enough" time, but the time I spend doing anything worthwhile can never be rushed, wasted, or multi-tasked.
A cookie a day ain't ever killed nobody. And two a day has likely saved several lives.
Flossing is really not a hassle once you get into the habit.
In fact, the most success I've achieved in this life so far can be whittled down to acquiring good habits.
Crying does not make you weak; it often shows just the opposite: vulnerable courage.
A lot of the moments closest to perfection are quite ones.
Sometimes hugs are the greatest gifts I've ever received.
30 is much too young to be wise and it's way too old to be naive.
Some mistakes NEED to be learned over and over and over.
Credit cards are the devil.
Being single is much better when you have a pet.
Confidence and ambition are the 2 sexiest things a person can exhibit AND they don't sag with age.
I am proud of my laughter wrinkles, the callouses on my feet and the freckles on my face.
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.
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.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
No Fuzz
Hi, my name is Haley, and I practice Laser Hair Removal.
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.
Really.
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.
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?
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.
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!
2 hours later I limped out (even more so) covered in bruises and Polysporn.
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.
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.
Yup, this is when it gets good.
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.
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!
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.
"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)
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:
"So do you think I have a hemorrhoid?"
*laser turns off*
"what?!"
"Um, do you think I have a hemorrhoid?"
*queue hysterical-fall out of the chair- laughter from sweet laser chick*
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.
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.
PARDON?!!!
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:
"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.
Amazeballs.
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?
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.
I will post the final results -In less detail.
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.
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.
Really.
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.
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?
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.
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!
2 hours later I limped out (even more so) covered in bruises and Polysporn.
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.
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.
Yup, this is when it gets good.
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.
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!
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.
"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)
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:
"So do you think I have a hemorrhoid?"
*laser turns off*
"what?!"
"Um, do you think I have a hemorrhoid?"
*queue hysterical-fall out of the chair- laughter from sweet laser chick*
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.
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.
PARDON?!!!
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:
"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.
Amazeballs.
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?
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.
I will post the final results -In less detail.
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.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Insane in the Membrane
First of all : HAPPY MOTHER LOVIN SPRING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Second of all : Is it too early to wear no socks?
Thirdly : HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY SPRING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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:
"You know Hales, for such a commitment-phobic-dude you really do love, love"
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.
I really do Love the LOVE!
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!
It even warmed up a bit and melted lots of the the dirty dog shitty snow!
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.
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)
My brother left me a message at work the other day and it went something like this:
"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"
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.
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.
Second of all : Is it too early to wear no socks?
Thirdly : HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY SPRING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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:
"You know Hales, for such a commitment-phobic-dude you really do love, love"
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.
I really do Love the LOVE!
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!
It even warmed up a bit and melted lots of the the dirty dog shitty snow!
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.
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)
My brother left me a message at work the other day and it went something like this:
"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"
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
God Bless the Groundhog
I like how when I'm in my car alone I forget that it has windows.
Non-tinted windows. Windows that the world can see in. I believe many others forget this little fact as well.
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.
You do it too right?
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!
Later....really?!!
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?
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.
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.
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.
Oh, and I have already creeped out my bosses son. I do believe he may be 14.
12 more days until Psychological Spring!!!!!!!!!!! XOXOXOX
Non-tinted windows. Windows that the world can see in. I believe many others forget this little fact as well.
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.
You do it too right?
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!
Later....really?!!
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?
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.
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.
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.
Oh, and I have already creeped out my bosses son. I do believe he may be 14.
12 more days until Psychological Spring!!!!!!!!!!! XOXOXOX
Friday, January 21, 2011
Superduperficial
A snow-cation on a Friday is alright I guess hey? (24 days until HP saucy crazyballz spring!)
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!
**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"**
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?!?!!
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.
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? ;)
Happy no sugar/no flour/no booze weekend!
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!
**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"**
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?!?!!
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.
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? ;)
Happy no sugar/no flour/no booze weekend!
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Lockin Lipz
Do you remember the best kisser you have ever kissed?
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
True story. Solid Fact.
I really need a boyfriend.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
True story. Solid Fact.
I really need a boyfriend.
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