Pump Up The Volume

Sunday, September 30, 2012

My feet are black. My nails are chipped and broken.
And I've got a grey cloud full of post-drinking remorse hovering above my every move.
I got game day'd.
Bad. Real bad.

I ran around Lincoln yesterday like a drunk kid in a candy store.
If ever there was a sloppy looking lady-child skipping from bar to bar, that was me.
My hair was disheveled, my face red and blotchy, and my shirt covered
in everything I had eaten and drank for the past eight hours.
Per the usual, I was the sweaty kid who played too hard at recess.
But I hardly think I'm at fault here.
On game days all rules go out the window the second everybody decides it's completely acceptable
to forgo modern technology in favor of just dropping deuces and urinating in a big hole rather than a toilet.
A bench with a hole cut out that is surrounded by four walls is not a bathroom.
I'm talking about porta-potties, people. Satan's toy box.
How is it that I can have a phone (my new iPhone 5 whoop whoop) that can
basically do anything I want, and yet we haven't come up with a better invention
for outdoor toilet time. I mean we're still using the same model from the 1700s.
But I digress.

Anyway, if I saw you last night, I'm sorry for whatever I may have said or did.
(Unless you're the Wisconsin man I yelled at for not putting the seat down. I don't regret that.)
It's still up for debate whether I was in the mens restroom, or if he was in the women's...
And if I ran up to you and hugged you and gave you the friendliest hello ever,
please know it was genuine.
Alcohol gives me the courage to be the affectionate outgoing person I'd liked to be,
as opposed to silly old sober-me who might just give you a shy "hello" wave on a normal day.

But I was actually doing quite well up until about 8:00 p.m.
I was keeping it classy-ish. No shots, just beers. Easy, slow, drinking.
But then I started to emotional drink when I began to think we were going to lose to
Wisconsin, after all.
And when I start drinking because I'm angry, the outcome is never good.
I believe last night I called it "pumping up the volume."
The shots started flowing and my beers turned into mixed drinks.
Once I began to pump up the volume time suddenly sped up at an incredible rate.
The next thing I knew I found myself at the Rail running into pals from Kindergarden,
and double fisting Ultras.

If you ever feel the need to drink two beers at once, don't.
It's just not necessary.

And did I mention we won? Yes, it was very nice.
Downtown Lincoln felt like Mardi Gras last night (or maybe that was just for me?)
 It was the most people I'd ever seen out before.
This was the scene outside of the stadium after we won.

So yes, it was a pretty great night.
Luckily, my mom was our trusty DD and managed to wrangle me up around 1:00 a.m. to
take me home before I could embarrass myself any more.
But then it happened.
I'm talking about the moment when my mom ran over my dad's foot....
It was obviously a freak accident. And luckily, he didn't break anything so it really wasn't that big of a deal.
But last night, it sure seemed like a big deal.
Let's look at a few texts I sent Chris about it, shall we?

"My mom drove my moms foot."

Luckily I was not driving.
We didn't go to the 9-11 room.
And his foot is still alive, after all.
And just for the record I was volunteering my mom to get Chris.
I do a lot of stupid shit. But I never drive after I've drank. And that's my PSA for today.

So there you have it. 
My first game day back in Lincoln.
And my last. 
Pretty sure I wore out my welcome in that town for this season.


And The Winner Is...

Friday, September 28, 2012

TGIF friends.
And a big congrats to entry #902 Laura!
Laura@welcomaha.org I shall be emailing you shortly to figure out where to send the goods.
That's all I've got for today.
I'm off to hang out with this little hell-raiser.
"Everything I know I learned on The Street."

Me too Knox, me too.
Go have yourself a great weekend.


Sometimes You Wanna Go

Thursday, September 27, 2012

"Your posts and comments about this weekend are getting a bit excessive."
said my friend, Roy, regarding my recent Facebook activity.
And she's right, they are. But I can't help it.

"Making your way in the world today, takes everything you've got."
It does. It really does.
It also takes my dignity when I find myself having to stand in a cafeteria full of middle
schooler's shouting on a microphone about glow in the dark skate boards.

"Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot."
Boy would it ever. This week has been annoying, to say the least.
I'd just like to sit back at The Bar, Bloody in hand, and not think about a damn thing
except beating Wisconsin, and how long I have to wait until I can get Lazzaris again.

"Wouldn't you like to get away?"
Yes! Yes! I want to get away.

"Sometimes you wanna go..."
Nebraska! Nebraska! Nebraska!
freshman year. first football game. jean skirt city.

"Where everybody knows your name,  and they're always glad you came."
You wanna be where you can see, our troubles are all the same.
You wanna be where everybody knows, your name."

I do. Yes I do.

So yeah, I guess you could say I'm excited to go home this weekend.
Nebraska plays Wisconsin.
Last year they murdered us up there, and this year I'd really really like to get some revenge.

Without going into too much detail, let me just give you a brief recap regarding my experience with
the Badger fans last year.
disclaimer: I realize every college has their fair share of "bad apple fans" we just happened to encounter all of them in Madison.

1. How many times did I see Badger fans pour beer on Husker fans heads aged 50+?
Four. And I'm talking about 50 year old ladies getting beer poured on them.
Are you kidding me?

2. Walking to the stadium with my parents, how many times were we just blatantly told
Three times.

3. Thrown beer bottles at us? You betcha.

I'll stop right there before I get too heated again.
I have since met some really great Wisconsin people so I now know they're not all like that.
It was just a particularly bad day for me.
Bad/really awesome because I thought Camp Randall was a great place with an amazing farmers market.

And they sure know how to make a great Bloody up there.
So in honor, these will be the exact same ones we're gonna replicate on Saturday:

And how will Husker fans treat Wisconsin fans after last year?
Like they're our long lost BFFs. Because that's just how we do.

And now for a quote I use way too much, yet not enough:
That's what I like about Lincoln, I get older, and it stays the same age.

Nebraska, I'm coming home.


I'm Drinking the Kool Aid

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

So my class at Second City on Tuesday was kinda strange. 
 For the first 90 minutes our teacher instructed us in only Gibberish.
 Literally not a single word of English was spoken the moment we walked in. 
After numerous Gibberish exercises, 
it was our turn to act out 2-3 minute improv scenes in 100% Gibberish. 
Thanks to my extensive years spent playing The Sims, 
I'm actually quite fluent in Gibberish, so it was pretty simple for me.

But it's happening.
I've started drinking the Kool Aid at Second City and I can't stop.
I'm obsessed.
I'm becoming one of those improv dorks and there's nothing I can do about it.
Tina Fey warned me about this, in her book she said,

"The Second City is like a cult. You eat, drink, and breathe improv." 
And it's true.
I'm only five classes in and I'm already signing up for more.
I'm like a gushy little school girl every time I walk into the building.

 I imagine Tina opening that same door.
 And then I picture Chris Farley riding that same escalator. 
And John Belushi doing drugs behind the alley I cut through. 
I think this every single week and it still excites me.

a few alumni:

And then when I leave, I always get this weird feeling like I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing. How corny is that? 

And I can't help but think of this really cliche quote I once heard that has for some reason stuck with me, 
"you'll never be lost in life as long as you continue to follow your internal compass."

 Holy shit, who am I becoming. Inspirational quotes? 

What's next, am I going to start posting Eleanor Roosevelt posters? And then Marilyn Monroe? 
No. I draw the line at posting "life quotes" from an overrated movie star who couldn't manage her own life. Yup, I just took it there. And I think I'm back to my old self.

And now to introduce you to another great gal
who writes an always entertaining blog that you should definitely be checking out.
As if her little ditty below isn't enough to draw you to her she's also willing
to throw in a $20 Target gift card to say thanks for reading! (and following obviously.)
Meet Beth.

Hello The Daily Tay readers! I’m Beth and I blog over at Arrow in the Eye.  
My blog is pretty much all over the place, one day it’s embarrassing photos of my family and/or fur child, the next it’s my junktiquing adventures. (junk + antiquing = junktiquing!)  
So if you’re feeling random come on over and check me out! 
Plus you want to win a  $20 Target Gift Card Right? Get on it!

 Uh that's me!

 Until then I'll just give you a preview of what happens over my way

 This is what greets you at the airport when you've been gone two weeks.
My poor sister

My most prized obsessions  nail polishes are stored in this upcycled ammo box

Pretty sure if she could read I'd be dead right now. 

Clearly I have entirely too much time on my hands living outside of DC.
So come on over check me out and enter to win some Target ca$h!

Feel like lurking some more? I'm on the interwebz here and here too!

Now get on over to her blog!
I'm getting on over to my bottle of wine. Boy oh boy, it's been a week..


Meet My "Soft Side"

So yesterday was a bit of an eye opener for me...
I told Chris Monday night,
"I'm think I'm gonna write a funny political post just making fun of both of the candidates and stuff."
And he said, nothing. Because the Packers game was on.
So that was that.

And then I wrote the post and didn't think anything of it.
Apparently some people did..
But I didn't really care, with my "humor" this is something I've learned to deal with.
But then people took the time to click "unfollow."
And I did care.
It sounds stupid, but bloggers work hard for followers.
So I was like shit, what did I do wrong.
Well obviously I knew, I wrote something they didn't want to read.
And that's their choice.
So then I thought, I just won't write stuff like that anymore.
But that's what I do... If I change how I write, doesn't that make me a sell out or something?
(a sell-out regarding the $20 my blog rakes in a month)
So I was a bit torn for like 8 minutes, all I wanted was a good heart-to-heart with Danny Tanner
where he could tell me it's all going to be okay, and I can't please everybody,
and Kimmy Gibler is a whorish neighbor and little Stephanie is going to develop a meth problem in her twenties.

But Danny wasn't around.
So instead I thought I'd write a post where you guys could see my "softer side."
Come see the Softer Side of Sears
Okay, why the hell did that slogan just automatically pop in my head?
Wasn't that from like 1994? Anyone else remember this?

Things That Prove My Heart Isn't Full of Sarcasm and Hate

"You can tell a lot about a person by the way they treat something that can do nothing for them."

I hope the time would never come that I'd have to take a bullet for Harlow, but I would.
And I'd probably take one for you dog too.
For some sick reason I spend hours torturing myself at night reading about animal abuse and dog fights
trying to figure out how I can help it.
My monthly donation isn't cutting it.
And yet I haven't had the man power to create my own task force to stop it myself, either.
I want to see a movie like Taken only about dogs kidnapped to dog fight.
It will be called Bitten.
And it would cause awareness. I'll put it on my to-do list.

I watch it. Sometimes. But TLC is kinda the new Lifetime if you ask me.

I've worked in high schools and elementary schools for the past four years,
so I see a lot of them.
And they get my blood boiling. (Which I guess does nothing to prove to you I have a soft side.)
When I see a kid getting picked on I do everything in my power to single that kid out
and make them feel "cool" or "special" or whatever I can do.
And then you know what else I do? I use the power of my sarcastic tongue
to embarrass said bully (only a little, calm down) just because there's nothing more gratifying
than to see the kid who is alway picked on get to be on the other side for once.
but bullies are mean because they're bullied at home..
I know, spare me the comment. Sometimes you just can't help it.

Random. Acts. Of. Kindness.
I prefer to do my good deeds when nobody else can see them or know about them.
Not because I'm saintly (I know you thought I was up until now)
just because that's how I roll.

Banana Bread.
I love to bake it.
Mean people don't bake.
And I love to make homemade chex-mex. And that shit's a lot harder than you'd think to make.

Youtube Videos of Soldier Reunions.
Can't get enough of these.
Reunions with kids, wives, hubbys, DOGS! I love them all.
I can't imagine choosing to leave your loved ones in the name of your country.
Talk about selfless.

I Participate in Stripper Bachelorette Parties Even Though They Make Me Very Uncomfortable.
Yes, I'm wearing shorts under this dress. C'mon.
This was only one time. But I'd probably do it again.

I Like to Make Things Right
Like today when Harlow jumped over the fence at the dog park and started to eat the man's lunch who was sitting just outside on the bench...
He said it "wasn't a big deal." But I knew it was. Lunch is the highlight of most peoples day.
I demanded he give me his address so I can send him money to repay him for the meal.
I know he doesn't think I'll send him anything. But it's already in the mail.

I pick it up on the reg.
I mean like trash, not kitty litter. That would be weird.
If you say that word too fast it starts to get confusing.
Litter. Litter. Litter.
Pollution is called litter, right?

Is it bad this list was really hard to come up with?
Shit, I need to stop being such a hard ass.

I genuinely just try to write things that make people laugh.
That's all I'm really after here.
(Well that and your sponsorship.)


How Bout Them Apples

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Well I can't think of a better time to use my Living-In-Yellow free pass
than right now.
I'm feeling some negative energy coming from below,
which is something I'd never thought I'd feel on here,
so I'm calling on the one person who is always positive, always happy, and always entertaining.
The blogger who needs no introduction,
and who probably has never had to write a follow-up post on something that was intended to be funny,
but was actually a swing and a miss-
The lovely Erin from Living In Yellow.

Well hey there you Taily fans.
That is Daily and Taylor combined for all of you who just thought Taylor's name is actually Tailey.
My name is Erin and I blog over at Living In Yellow.
Now I know what you are thinking "guest posts suck"
Guess what? You are right. They do.
Which is why I am not going to write one.
You're welcome.
You know what this means don't you?
You must come to my blog. To read like a non-guest post or something.
I promise you'll laugh.
Or at least feel better about your own life.
See you soon baby cakes.
ps. I love macaroni and cheese. And Giuliana Rancic. That's all.
pps. Taily and I are BFFs.
the proof is in the picture.

There you have it. Erin likes me.
So that means I can't be that big of an evil-political-machine-monster.
All good is restored in the bloggy world again.
Except for the fact this is the ugliest photo of me ever. (Thanks Erin.)
I look like a greasy jailbird, woof.
I just can't win today...

Calm Your Britches

And now a post to follow-up on a post that I thought was so blatantly ridiculous
people could take it for what it is.
Peeps, let's look at the clues here, shall we?
The first photo is one of me cupping a statue's man bits.
How serious do you think this is going to get?

"For those who are concerned, please note that what I am about to say is based on almost zero facts, much of it has nothing to do with politics,
it's mostly all hearsay, and is almost entirely my own bullshit opinion.
So take it for what it's worth."

And then there was that whole part, remember that.

Finally, I started the whole thing off with:
And now a political post from someone who knows almost nothing about politics.
So my bloggy friends, I beg you, never get too heated over a "political post"
that starts in this manner.
You've got better things to get heated about, I assure you.
Have you not read any of my other posts? We all get that I'm pretty sarcastic, right?
Look below, "The Time Harlow Pissed the Bed"
probably an indicator I'm not taking this blog too seriously.
I say random, inappropriate shit on the regular, that's kinda why I started this.
And it's also kinda what I kept this private for 3 + years.
Because sometimes I get aggravated that people don't get my humor
and can't just take it for what it is.
If I read this post, I'd think,
"Ha that girl's an idiot. What's for lunch?"
and then I move. But that's how I live my life.

More importantly though, at what point did I say the word "lazy?"
Or "unemployed?"
I didn't. Because I've been unemployed (and lazy.)  But I can tell you what I wasn't doing during this time, and that was "hanging out" all day long. I was working my ass off to find a job.
 So the only group I "generalized"
would be the same people I see "brown bagging" drinking and "smoking" every day on the same street I drive by all. the. time.
After you see the same people doing this day after day, at what point does it stop being a generalization
and start being the truth?
And why can't I be pissed that they get to hang out and drink 40s all day?
 I'd like to do that.

So was I trying to offend your husbands, your cousins, your brothers?
Not at all. 
Why some of you took it there, I honestly have no idea. 
(Unless your husband is in that very group I see all the time downtown with the smokes and drinks)
in that case- if the brown bag fits..

It was called the Obama Romney Sock Hope. Did I have to write it in sarcastic font or something for that to come across?
I said I was Republican because Lady Gaga told me to be.
Maybe I'm actually Democrat. Who knows. Who cares.

I don't write posts like the one below because I think it's 
I do it because this is my blog. And this is the shit that goes through my head.
I certainly don't write to offend. But then again, I'm yet to hear a joke that "offends me."
Have you noticed how I'm usually the first one I make fun of?
I don't dish shit, unless I've first said the same thing about myself.

Seriously. I'm holding a statue's testicles.
How did you take that to such a negative level.
On the complete flip side (which I'm allowed to do because this is my blog)
it's kinda cool/refreshing to see how many people who care about politics!
Keep the comments coming, unless they're negative toward other reader's comments.
I don't need that shit. This isn't youtube. 

But my only question is this- how come no one stands up for celebs when I make fun of them?
Where are all of the celeb advocates? Does anyone else find this slightly hypocritical?

That's that. 
I'm kinda weirded out by all of this. I must be super naive because I never thought
such a stupidly foolish post could get people upset or have them jump to conclusions as to what 
I was referring to.
Do you get mad when a five year old tells you her thoughts on politics? 
Because didn't I basically say I have the political knowledge of a five year old? 
Yes, I did. It's not good, I'm not proud of it. But it is what it is.
And I said Obama had a nice smile. That's what really gets me.

Here's my bottom line:
I thought my post was satirical in the fact (if nothing else) it displayed how ignorant/stereotypical my political knowledge is.
It was a joke...

And now I'm off to wonder what the hell just happened here. 

The Time Harlow Pissed The Bed

Monday, September 24, 2012

The correct title of this post really should be-
The Time Harlow Pissed the Bed for the 17th Time.
But it didn't have the same ring to it.

So... mistake #1 would be letting your dog sleep with you.
I know it's gross, I know you judge me, but when I brought home baby Harlow the first night
and I heard him start to whimper on the ground what was I supposed to do?
sidenote: This is a lie. Harlow never even started out on the ground.
I brought him in the bed and into my arms immediately. And he never whimpered once. 
And I never looked back.

Mistake #2 is scaring your dog (who is known to dribble a bit when caught off guard)
when he is sitting in your bed.
Harlow frightens easily. Anytime he's had an accident in bed it's because something spooked him,
or because he drank too much beer. 
(Oddly enough, these are the only reasons I wet the bed too.)

So last week Chris and I got a Jambox.
Which is this awesome little speaker thing that has amazing sound quality
and picks up your music from your phone, iPad, Mac, iPod, ext via Bluetooth.
We also figured out that you can make phone calls on it.
Wanting to test it out, Chris went into our room and then called me.
When I answered, his voice came through on the speaker, so naturally he had to mess with it a little by saying "Harlowwwww" in a very creepy voice.
Which he never should have done...
Because all of the sudden Harlow starts looking at the Jambox, all freaked out that he can hear Chris's voice, but can't see him.
I could tell by the way he was staring at it, with his back hair straight up and his head tilted,
 that he thought it was the work of the devil. 
I could be wrong, but I think he's had a bad past with poltergeists. Then again, who's had a good past with them?

So I went into our bedroom and called Harlow back so he could see Chris was indeed alive,
and not stuck in the box like he feared.
And as quick as Harlow came in and saw Chris's face, he jumped on the bed,
and peed on the bed. In one swift motion.
And for the second time that day, I had to change the sheets.

Which meant dealing with this.

Harlow's favorite game is playing "don't let her take the sheets off the bed." 
He actually plays defense and will juke from left to right so I can't grab the blankets.
He literally goes nuts and will do anything possible to keep me from the task at hand.

I have the weirdest dog in the world.
And now to change topics completely.

Tis that time again where I have the privilege of introducing you all to some 
very wonderful bloggers.

First of all, we have the lovely Rima.
She's hilarious, she posts hilarious photos,
and she writes hilariously about her amazing travels.
Is it safe to say I think she's hilarious? 

Yo. This is Rima from Bolu by Rima and over in Bolu, 
you can read about my ramblings and rants about life, my big LOVE for food (yum),
 crafting and traveling. On occasions, you will see appearances of the two men in my life, 
The Pillow (aka Robert aka Boyfriend) and Chimichanga (the Dog). 
If you are a follower, awesome. If not, stop by and say hi!! 

And Rima also happens to be hosting a giveaway:
Giveaway: $10 GC to Starbucks. Hello. Pumpkin Spice Latte.
Follow Rima.
Follow Me. = 2 entries. Good job.

Next up we have Erin. 
I like Erin because she's one of those blogger's who really writes.
Not that I don't love me a good photo post, but I really love me a blogger who is a writer-
(and who also happens to post photos as well)

I'm Erin. 
I blog at Emperically ErinMostly, you'll find me blogging about my two loves: 
Mr. LoLo and Bronx. 
Mr. LoLo is my super cute, multi-talented, Dominican husband and Bronx is my 1 year old yorkie puppy who loves stuffed duck toys and long walks on the beach. 
No, seriously. He really does. Other than that, I usually write about the funny things 
that seem to always happen to me 
(like the time my husband figured out how to change the channel on the tv I was watching in Maine while he was in New York City). 
Like Tay, I like to keep it fun. Come say hi and follow along!

Forewarning: Erin's giveway is pretty legit...
And for my piece of the giveaway, I'll be giving away a family heirloom: 
My grandmother's guacamole recipe straight from Mexico! 
Who wouldn't give their left arm for a sweet guac recipe? Not my right, but definitely my left.
You haven't tasted good guacamole until you've tried my grandmother's recipe. 

But if you win, you have to promise not to share the recipe on your blog...like I said, it's a closely guarded family secret! 
(Ok maybe it's not guarded that closely since I'm giving it away, but still. You know how Aztecs like to get their revenge right?) 
Follow Erin, follow me= 2 entires. So easy.
And now we've got a little lady by the name of Jen.
I experienced my first girls wine night (via twitter) with Jen and a few other bloggers last week.
I knew Jen and I would get along after she emailed one day and said she was a bit behind on things on account of the fact she was certain someone had given her "heathens" a can of JOLT for the day
and they were running wild all over the house.

 Hey folks!  

My name is Jen and I ramble over at That's What She Read
Sometimes I talk about stuff I actually read and others times I just ramble. 
If you're looking for a good book to read or want to laugh at me while I try to juggle marriage, parenthood, 
a career and my hobbies, then have at it! I'm here for your entertainment, folks!  
It's such a pleasure to be on The Daily Tay. She's pretty much my fav! You can hear more on: Twitter//Blog//Pinterest

And finally we've got Allison at Fridge Grown Garlic.
She's been known to have some pretty great pins show up on her blog that I'm always anxious to see.
Right now she's enduring a move, so I'm sure blogging is the least of her worries!

My name is Allison from Fridge Grown Garlic
 and I'm a young woman trying to find my place in the world, but until then I'm more than happy to be with my hubby and living life to the fullest. 
Oh and I like to think I'm funny. 

Okay, now go meet the gals.

And FYI the winner of the $25 Starbucks GC from Follow Oh Wells Instead Of What Ifs 
 is Joanna from Joy Finds Joy!
Email me at thedailytay@gmail.com


Just Another Great Monday

Per the usual, Monday morning snuck up on me like the nasty little hooker she is.
(Because yes, I often get snuck up on by hookers. It's weird, I know.)
This Monday started a bit earlier than the norm-
I was actually in my car on the road to Milwaukee by 6:00 a.m.
I don't know about you, but that's quite early for me.
Being on the road at that time meant I had to be up by at least 5:52 a.m.
I should clarify and let you know that I treat my morning routine very similar to that of a five year old.
I'm big on showering at night, it's a habit I started in kindergarden and just can't break.
This allows me to quickly roll out of bed, brush my teeth/wash my face,
grab my makeup and a cup of cereal,
and get out the door.
Today my outfit of choice was work pants with a nice hooded sweatshirt and slippers.
Of course I bring my "nice clothes" to change into, but I know just one of these times I'll forget.
It wouldn't be the first time.
In fact the last time I forgot, this was the shirt I ended up wearing all day:

And if you think I'm joking check out this post for a complete recap.

But anyway,
the only bad thing about getting ready in the car, is car lighting.
Half the time I think the mirror in my car is a trick mirror because one minute I look twenty five,
and then I look a little too closely and suddenly I see Old Lady Idgie from Fried Green Tomaters staring back at me.
Hello sun spots... Sure am glad I spent all those high school years in the tanning bed.
-said small town girls every where.
I guess it's better I see her than Kathy Bates staring back at me, right?

But today was the big BMX bike show kick off. And just as expected, pants were shit.
The only way I can think to describe the kids when I start mentioning prizes
is to compare it to the SNL's Oprah's Favorite Things skit-

as soon as I said "light up" their heads started spinning in complete circles
and green vomit was spraying out every where.
It was intense.
On that note- I need to get some lunch.
And Harlow needs a walk. Then again, maybe he doesn't.
He hasn't moved from this spot since I walked in the door.

Oh, the life of Harlow.
It's most likely better than yours and mine.

Shit No One Says on Friday

Friday, September 21, 2012

Pulling out a post from the archives today.
It just felt right.

Friday already?

Alcohol sounds disgusting to me right now.

Man was this a fast week or what?

I just wish it was Monday.

I hate not wearing work clothes on Friday, it just makes me feel so unprofessional.

Do you think I could stay late tonight?

Isn’t it weird how cold calling never gets old.

This weekend is going to go so slow I can already tell.

I’m just glad I’m not in college anymore.

I hate not having anything to do on Saturday.

I always feel so much more productive on Fridays.

I wonder if the gym opens at 6 a.m. or 7 a.m. tomorrow?

I bet he’ll return my voicemail.

Getting paid on Fridays is so dumb.

I love when people are extra bitchy to me on the phone on Fridays.

Remember how pointless Fridays used to be when you’d skip class every week?

It’s so annoying when my pants fit loose by the end of the week.

I really wanted to wear tights today.

Hold that thought, I need to make a few more calls before we talk about non-work things.

Text? No, how about I just call you tonight to see what’s going on instead.

I guess I just feel more comfortable taking care of my hangover “issues” in a public bathroom.

Sending mass emails is just fun and that’s that.

Katy Perry is so original. And she's just funny, I don't what anyone else says.

I think I’m just going to stay in tonight and watch Whitney and 2 Broke Girls.

How much longer do we have to wait for another Rebecca Black hit?

I forgot it was Friday for a second.

I’m so annoyed Facebook isn’t blocked at work.

The weekend just makes me want to eat healthy.

I get so much done between 2 and 5 p.m.

I love going out when I’m so pale.

Want to throw back a Pepsi or two after work with me?

I was really hoping this zit wouldn’t go away by today.

I wish I would have come in early today.

I love making calls on a Friday afternoon.

People love getting called on a Friday afternoon.

This day is going too fast, it needs to slow down.

Sometimes I just wish I had a house full of children to go home to after work on Friday.

Working just makes me feel like I have a purpose in life.

Having a hangover at work just makes the day go faster, don’t you think?

I hate Fridays.


My Job

Initially I wasn't going to talk much about my job on here,
mostly because I think it gets tricky when you start mixing work with blog
(according to HR anyway)
but with the way things are going I'm going to need somewhere to vent.
So it might be time to let the glow-in-the-dark-cat out of the bag.
And by bag I mean trunk.
Because if you were to break into my trunk right now that is what you'd find-
a glow in the dark stuffed cat.
And a squishy ball eraser.
And a sneaker key chain. And a flying alarm clock.
But it's fine, it's all for work.
Because I work at the DC Lynch carnival.
This is me, working the moonlight shift last week.
I run the squirt gun booth. It's not pretty, but someone's gotta do it.

Okay, I'm kidding (kinda). I don't work at a carnival. But I'm only two missing teeth, and one sassy blonde perm away from being a carny...

I actually help schools fundraise.
So that means I go into elementary schools, tell the kids why they're raising money,
and then I proceed to shoot methamphetamines into the air to get them all juiced up on raising funds.
And by methamphetamines I mean glow in the dark cats.
Kids go ape shit crazy over things that glow. They remind me of Harlow, actually.
I think I could just shine a flashlight on the wall and they'd be entertained for hours.

But here's the other thing about kids I've learned in the past couple of weeks-
they ask a LOT of questions.
A lot of very ridiculous questions, for the first few weeks of my job I actually thought they were all just being little smart asses with me because their questions were that awful.
But then I had to remind myself these were sweet little children, and I wasn't in fact speaking to a gymnasium full of Taylors.

Let's look at a few of the questions I was asked just yesterday, shall we?
(This is a school where they are doing a book sale to raise money.)

Little Johnny- "But what does it mean when my mom says she won't let me sell the books because she doesn't like them and says I can't sell something she doesn't like."

It means your mom's a bitch. Next question.

Little Johnny- "So what if someone wants to pay us $100 for just one book. Can we take more money?"

No, it means you need to get the hell out of there because that someone wants a lot more from you than just a book if he's giving you $100.

*Remember kids- Never sell to strangers! Especially ones with mustaches!

Little Johnny- "And when I bring my money back what if someone takes it all from me and I don't have it anymore?"

It means you're already planning to steal the money. So in that case you just lost your selling privileges. Guess you're going to have to join that gang, after all.

Little Johnny- "What if our parents just want to buy all the books? Is that okay?"

That means your parents love you, of course it's okay.

And that's all I've got for today. Don't worry, there will be more next week as I am speaking in
a school where I will be promoting a "BMX Bike Show."
I'm predicting at least two children will actually shit their pants when they see what this entails.
{Because it's that cool.}

And now to leave you with a photo of eight-year-old-me dressed to the nines in
Hooters-esque shimmer tights, roll down ruffle socks, all while holding our devil cat "Snickers."
Look closely behind me and you might see my sister.
hint: she blends in very well with the Christmas tree.