Friday, June 28, 2013

Moving is an adventure. Like hell.

Moving is stressful. 

Everything you own is under scrutiny. Do you need it? Want it? Do you wanna put together one more fucking box or just throw the shit away??

Moving when you have no plan, even more stressful. 

Do I stay? Do I get a roommate? Do I put an advert on Craiglist and hope I don't get murdered??

Who the hell owns this many pairs of shoes? Where the fuck did this third hand mixer come from? And how do I not make enough money to hire someone to do this for me??

I'm exhausted, cranky and needy. There are VERY few people in my life that can handle me under these circumstances. 

The short list doesn't seem to include a man with muscles, or access to a moving truck... I need a husband. Le sigh. 

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Hippos Read Just Busted

Recently, Hippo and I had a cheap-date, small adventure. After a shared dinner, we wandered to the drug store...

There we discovered, or verified rather, Hippos have a short attention span when we can't locate what we're looking for. Therefore we're led to discuss my lack of enthusiasm over arm pit hair. On anyone. It's weird. And blows in the wind. What?

Near the check-out we revisited part of our dinner conversation. You see an old friend of ours was recently arrested. For statutory rape. At the register was a copy of "Just Busted", a local paper that includes all the latest arrests. We suspected he might be included, and for only $1 we can peruse the law breakers of our surrounding area. Money well spent!

For the most part, the mug shots are terrible. As expected. Some people seem to treat them like prom photos, others like its their profession. Yet sometimes, they just don't seem to fit. Or they're even a little attractive, in that bad boy way...

Until you Facebook stalk them, and humorously realize the mug shot is their best public photo. Le sigh. 

Monday, June 24, 2013

Amazon Preacher Lady. The Purple Edition.

Friday afternoon, on my way to the coast, I stopped south of Atlanta to get gas and some Jesus Chicken Lemonade. That's what Hippo and I call Chick-fil-a, Jesus Chicken, because we're convinced there's granulated idol in there or people wouldn't be so damn uptight about it. I mean other than their blatant disregard for equality. But I'm sorry, that place is good and I'm weak. So weak.

When I walked into Chick-fil-a I headed straight to the little sinner's room. When I walked in, there at the sink was an Amazonian sized black woman. She was styled neck to ankle in purple clothes with hot pink zebra wedges and an Afro. She looked me up and down and exclaimed "even a heathen know where to find good food, thank you lord!"

I couldn't help but laugh and agree. I finished my business and walked to the line...where I stood behind her.

This is what follows: (also please read anything she says in your best southern, black, preacher voice)

Lady (in purple): Can I get a LARGE ice water and some ice. cream. dream?
Cashier: Yes ma'am. My pleasure. Would you like that in a cup or cone? Small or large?
Lady: In a cone of course. And a small, please.  I've gotta watch this figure. (pause for dramatic effect) For my Sugar. Daddy. (drop a hip and nod of the head and a slight duck face)
Cashier: *smiles and looks confused*
Lady: (turning around to me) Last night I was in bed with my Lover... The. Bible. (another hip drop)
Me: Oh. My. Well I've never heard of that book in such a term. A lover, you say?
Lady: Oh yes, child... nothing has ever been so satisfying
Me: *mumbling* I suppose I must have read it wrong...
Lady: (upon seeing the ice cream cone) Oh no, no, no. That will not do! I need a professional ice cream maker over here. No, no that will not do. I need it taller.  Don't be afraid to put a little swirl in that! Amen.
Lady: (again, to me) I had dream about our President. Ba-rack. He was standing on a hill, with another man. And our President of these United States had his right hand stretched out. Reaching toward that other man.  But that other man he did not reach back to our Commander and Chief, no he did not. And Mr. Obama, he fell. I woke up, confused. And I said Oh LORD, what does this mean? And the lord said, sister it means you can't trust a man, not even one right in front of you. MmHm. That's right
Lady: (upon seeing her second ice cream cone) Oh no.  That's won't due either! I need it tall.  I want all one hundred and twenty three cents worth of ice cream that I paid for.
Cashier: Ma'am you paid for a small, that is a small.
Lady: Well, I think it's an extra small. And you are serving ROYALTY. Amen. Thank you Jesus.

In the end, the purple lady gets an extra large ice cream cone. MmHm. That's right.

Friday, June 14, 2013

Friday, the day in which we unravel.

I'm not sure what its a sign of that its Friday, and I don't really recall Monday. Maybe it's because the chiropractor used lasers on my head and erased my memory, Men In Black style. 

Speaking of the MIB, Hippo and I have been testing the parameters of this NSA stuff. And we've decided to put forth an effort to making our texts and emails more interesting. I mean if someone is reading this shit, might as well make it entertaining. We now address the president directly and only ask for favors every few texts, which I feel is generous considering how highly we think of ourselves. 

Also we have military uniforms at the ready if they need back up. And by back up I mean something more akin to USO entertainment. Not actual battle buddies. Trust me, no one wants that. 

In the end, I doubt anyone is actually interested in what she and I are doing, but just in case we wanted to be prepared. 

Thursday, June 6, 2013

The Sickies

Today, I feel a bit under the weather. 

What does that actually mean? I don't recall ever being over the weather, physically speaking.

It's a great day for a movie marathon & napping, with grilled cheese and chicken noodle soup! Who's with me?!

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

F this, I'll be a stripper...

This was the start of a conversation with my friend Jax today. She's bought a stripper pole for her living room. 

Be still my heart

I simply cannot wait for the skin burns and uncontrollable laughter. And above all, the unmatched playlists! Look out world, this may cause a change in career paths!

A reflection of my friendships.

When friends send me things like this, it makes me exceptionally happy...

It's pictures and other nonsense like this that make me realize how good it is to be got.  Because there is more than one person in my life for which this is completely a possible scenario.  For that, I am BEYOND thankful.  I've never been one to take myself too seriously, and I'm glad there are a handful of people that recognize and capitalize on that fact.  If you have people in your life like this, you're doing something right.

Well done, friends.  Keep up the good work.

Monday, June 3, 2013

The Vortex of Online Dating Sites

This past weekend, I spent time with family and friends.  I celebrated birthdays and graduations and the general awesomeness that is our group.  I enjoyed the festivities greatly, and I'm increasingly thankful for the amazing support system of weirdos that I call my own.

In addition to that, I spent some time with the always delightful, Turtle.  We of course watched British TV shows, as that is a requirement of our friendship.  But we also stumbled upon "Plenty of Fish".  This is a website dedicated to bringing the lonely souls together.  (Be that for a night or a lifetime.)  The further into this journey we traveled, the more I questioned "How the hell is the human race still a thing?"  If you really take the time to look, it is startling.  I won't say that every single person on this site was a questionable soul, because some of them were attractive, funny or some combination of interesting.  However, the majority spoke to a part of my brain that screamed for complete words, correct grammar and self respect! (And that was just the women)

Turtle encouraged me to start my own account, just so we could make a comparison of the men.  And of course, I fell to peer pressure.  They make you chose an "intent" option when starting your account.  Not a single option says friendship.  Your choices range from easy to desperate in short measure.  And considering I'm not actually looking for anything, it was difficult to make a choice on intent without a certain level of guilt.

Within a matter of moments of completing my profile, I was reading messages from Alabama, Tennessee and Georgia's finest.  Some of these men were clever, I'll admit.  But mostly it was along the lines of "hey, ur hawt" and with each new message, I cringed.  After nearly 20 messages, I had to hide my account from searches.  I wanted to delete the entire account, but Hippo demanded that I wait until she could have a look herself.  We even discussed making a fake guy account, because we have nothing better to do with our time.
I guess we're all a little curious...