Sassy Pie

I've really got nothing witty for this title...

2012-01-11T22:34:00.003-06:00

I am just in the mood to write. Not sure what to write about yet, but you'll probably read it anyhow and waste ten minutes of your life you'll never get back just hoping that I'm going to say something witty and hilarious.

Sorry about the ten minutes.

I got a pretty new pair of shoes... They were on clearance for $20 at DSW. Oh, how I heart DSW. And Chinese Laundry. God bless them for making shoes in size Clownfoot that are comfortable and freaking adorable. I wore them to the drag show this last Saturday night, and holy hell were they comfortable! The drag show was a blast, as usual, and it was country themed. Normally I don't do country, but they did a lot of older stuff, Garth Brooks, Reba McEntire and the like. It was so much fun. One of my good friends, who is a queen at this particular club, performed a fantastic duet of 'Does He Love You?' as Reba. Bravo, Q... You rocked it.

I did have a decent amount to drink, so I eventually ended up dancing barefoot. My feet were so disgusting and dirty the next morning. Which didn't really matter in comparison to the sore arm and thigh I had from slipping on the ice in front of the bar.

Just call me Grace, ya'll.

I did dance my ass off that night, and it was wonderful. Though combining a good buzz with those strobe and laser light shows made me a little dizzy. Another beer cured that. I began to wonder if I was on a freaking acid trip after a while. Booming bass, strobe lights... It was what I imagine it would feel like if Baz Luhrmann directed my life for a few hours.

Poor Erflet has a double ear infection... He hasn't had one since before he was two. I got a call from Erf this morning to bring him in to urgent care, and thank sweet baby Jesus they still make ammoxicillin in the bubblegum flavor. I'm actually a little jealous, I loved that shit when I was a kid.

Erf, I am now happy to say, has a girlfriend. She seems to make him very happy, and I'm so incredibly thankful for that. He deserves happiness.

I have started seeing a new guy who has totally blown me away. I've never been treated this way by a guy in my entire life. He really is the epitome of a gentleman, and I'm eating up every second of it. I know, try to hold back your gasps of shock. Plus the conversation is amazing, and there's certainly some chemistry there. We had a fantastic first date last night at Blackwater, he actually wore a dress shirt and tie. I wore a little black dress with red pumps. It felt great to be on the same page with him. There were all those cute little awkward moments you expect on a first date, but they were far more cute than awkward. We will be seeing each other again soon, as we both agreed that a second date is definitely something we'd both like to see happen. For now, I'm just looking forward to the next time I get to see him.

Ooh, and he wears glasses. And kittens, you know what glasses do for me. Dress shirt, tie, dress slacks, glasses and smells incredible? Oh yes, I was so weak-kneed.

Other than that, nothing really too new...

"Put the fucking lotion in the basket!"

2011-12-17T23:12:00.003-06:00

Or also known as, 'A Love Letter To My White Trash Neighbors'.

Dear White Trash Neighbors,

I'm sorry, do you prefer the term Appalachian American?

Anywho, it's your neighbor. Yes, the crazy single girl who does her laundry at 11:00 on Friday nights. You know, the one you always run into because you're smoking in the laundry room in a non-smoking building? Yeah, my kid's lungs really appreciate that, you pricks.

I'm pretty sure that between the scent of the ammonia from your eternally unclean cat litter boxes, the pot I can tell you've been smoking (and really, if someone who has never smoked a j can tell, it's strong) and your apparent lack of personal hygiene that you're probably both mental ward escapees. Congratulations on chewing through your bonds, I hear they're a bitch.

I wanted to write you this letter to tell you how much I appreciated your rendition of Bag Full Of Cats Being Beaten With A Sharp Stick in high C. It really was wonderful. I'm almost speechless at it's beauty. Who wouldn't want to hear a tinkling chorus of, 'FUCK YOU's and 'GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!'s? It's not like nails against a chalkboard, I swear. It's like the giggling of magical mermaids under a rainbow waterfall.

But in all seriousness, at 11:00 at night? Really? I was sitting in my living room, the farthest place in my apartment away from yours, and I could still hear every word you said. I have a five year old. You social rejects, please mainline some Drano. Immediately. Honestly, if I could I would toss your asses in pits in the ground and tell you to put the lotion on your skin or else you'd get the hose again.

Please run back to the mental hospital from whence you escaped. Go enjoy the wonderful drugs they give you. I'm pretty sure you'll get something that will make you go catatonic and forget about how daddy beat you and took away your Christmas money from grandma so he could buy another line of nose candy and forget all about that time the condom broke and all he got was this whiny little bitch of a kid.

Oh, and while you're at it, please surrender your cats to the local shelter. Those poor animals didn't do anything bad enough to deserve living in an environment of that quality. No one should ever abuse pussy like that. And maybe make sure the men in white coats give you a shower. With bleach. And Comet. And a stainless steel scouring pad. And a dose of Penicillin. Maybe two for good measure.

Sincerely,

The really annoyed and pissed off girl with the big rack that you're constantly oogling whenever you see me. Seriously, it makes me want to shower in water hot enough to sterilize medical equipment.

Whew, one big holiday down, one to go!

2011-12-01T20:15:00.002-06:00

And thanksgiving this year began much like thanksgiving last year did. With me dropping something.

Thank god it wasn't the apple pie, like it was last year! No, this year, it was a heavy glass candle holder. And I broke the fall with my foot. Sweet Baby Jesus, did that hurt! I still have a curve-shaped bruise from that sucker.

So I suppose I should actually update on what's going on in life lately, as it's pretty much been, date-date-date-food porn lately...

On the dating front: Jason is now in a relationship with another girl. But it's good, they're good for one another. We are still friends, and this is what's important. Travis and I stopped talking, I'm not heartbroken by this. Still haven't heard from the hot waiter. I've got a few guys I've been chatting with that want to take me on dates. So in other words, all is busy and well. :)

On the work front: Things have been going pretty well. Been getting lots of training in other areas of the store. And except for stupid dramz, which we all know I fucking HATE WITH THE FURY OF A THOUSAND BURNING URETHRA, it's good.

On the family front: My family is excellent as always. A few hits on the head with the crazy stick here and there, but otherwise good. :)

On the me front: Bought myself some Beavis and Butthead pajamas. I am more than pleased with this. It's probably one of the most epic purchases I've made since my pink glitter stilettos. I'm also going to a Christmas-themed drag show this Saturday and debating wearing them to the show. Because really, if glitter-coated pumps aren't appropriate at a drag show, then where, I ask you?

On the Erf front: Proudly, we haven't fought in a few months. We are getting along really well, and I think we really are becoming friends again. It feels good, I hated having to guard everything I said. And this can't be anything but good for Erflet.

On the Erflet front: He's lost his first tooth! He's getting so big, and I'm in total disbelief that he's almost six. Fuck, where does the time go? He's doing great in school, and reveals more and more tendency towards my personality every day. This is both awesome and horrible, as I'm a huge smartass. It's gonna suck until he learns how to control this magical power he has inherited.

So all in all, things are going great. Little bumps and hiccups in the road, but nothing serious. :) I'm so glad, it's such a 180 from what my life was like a year ago. Further proof supporting that sometimes what's bad in the short term can be good in the long term.

Food porn is back, kittens!

2011-11-15T23:57:00.006-06:00

I know it's been a shamefully long time since I last posted food porn. Please, hold your produce.

Seriously? Who threw that?

Anywho, you all have my lovely momma to thank for my bringing you this food porn. Because I'm terrible daughter and I'm about three holidays in baking debt, she demanded nothing short of excellence for her birthday this year. I could tell there was no fucking way I was getting off the hook...

She asked me for entremet. Not that particular one, but it's basically a multi-layered dessert with contrasting flavors and textures. My only response to her was, 'why do you hate me?'

She replied with some blah blah blah about challenging my skills and demanding excellence and I wasn't really listening.

So I look up recipes for entremet. Fuck me gently with a chainsaw, all these damn recipes are in metric form. I'm too lazy to convert them. Eff that ess. I'll do what I do well. I'll make something up.

Her primary request was that it be chocolate. Easy enough. Without further ado, here is my version of entremet (I apologize to your bandwidth):

I decided my stable layers would consist of Ghirardelli devil's food cake. Four layers, to be precise.

Oh yes, bitches. I went there. I made an ICE CREAM ENTREMET. My mom loves coffee, so I figured this should have an interesting texture, and you can't go wrong with Ben and Jerry!

One layer of devil's food cake sprinkled with coffee, then Coffee Heath Bar Crunch ice cream. It looks fabulous already!

For my middle filling layer, I chose to go with chocolate mousse. Something light to contrast the heaviness of the ice cream. Forgot to take a photo of the spread layer though. I fail.

What contrasts coffee? Peanut fucking butter, kittens! And I thought the pretzel would be pretty cool to add some extra crunch.

Yes, this was as time consuming as it looks. But pretty, so worth it. :)

I used a springform pan to hold it together while it set in the freezer. I used one that was too big. Oops. Whatever, it worked.

It's the leaning tower of Cheeza! (Bad Goofy Movie reference)

Was I done? Oh, no, kittens. I wasn't done. My mom loves dark chocolate, so I made Ghirardelli 60% bittersweet chocolate ganache to cover the whole thing! It ended up being too bitter with the devils food cake, so next time I'll use milk. Still, MOAR CHOKLIT!

So pretty and shiny...

Very impressive looking, no?

My dad's verdict: "It's like 1,000 pornographic orgasms". My mom loved it.

I'm fucking screwed for her birthday next year...

I'm creating a new tag...

2011-11-09T18:53:00.003-06:00

Dating is decidedly becoming less and less of the bullshit variety with every date I've gone on lately.

I went on a second date with Travis, and I have to rant and rave about his mad skills... In the kitchen.

Seriously, trying to figure out something to do in this godforsaken town on a Sunday night besides the tired old 'dinner and a movie' schtick is damn difficult. So he invited me over to his place for dinner and said he would cook for me.

I will never say no to food, kittens. Then, he one-upped himself. He told me what he was planning on making.

Bacon (!!!) and goat cheese stuffed chicken with homemade mushroom risotto. Bacon, cheese and risotto? Dear sweet baby Jesus, I was drooling like mad. It was on like Donkey Kong, bitches. So we made plans for Sunday evening. I told him I would make him dessert, and finally decided on Oreo Butterscotch cheesecake.

This is already shaping up to be an amazing evening, no? Then I offered to bring the movie I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell as Travis hadn't yet seen it... With vernacular gems such as, "If you ever speak ill of the pancakewich again, I will force feed you one while I fuck you in the ass using the wrapper as a condom, and then donkey punch you when the infused syrup nugget explodes!" and "I'd rather fellate a hot curling iron than drive 250 miles because Tucker breast-fed until he was nine." What's not to love?!

I show up at 6 with cheesecake in tow. He wrapped his arm around me, put his hand on the small of my back (which is seriously a huge thing for me, I love it) and kissed me hello. Boy, it was warm in his house...

Then I got to watch him cook. He's pretty damn adept in the kitchen. Everything smelled absolutely amazing, and most everything was done or well on it's way to done by the time I arrived. I offered to help, was there anything he needed me to do? Oh, grill the asparagus?

I meant is there anything I KNOW how to do? No? Alright then. I'll stand here and watch. :)

Dinner consisted of bacon and goat cheese stuffed chicken, mushroom risotto and fresh grilled asparagus with lemon butter sauce. It. Was. Fucking. Amazing. He is such an excellent cook. We brought our plates into the living room and ate dinner. After we finished eating, we cuddled on the couch and just relaxed. (Yeah, yeah, get the, 'awwww' out of your system)

After Tucker Max was done, I sliced and diced the cheesecake, drizzled the slices liberally with butterscotch, and Travis made fun of my springform pan. It was fancy, or so he said. He seemed to be thoroughly impressed with my baking skills. He accused me of buying the cheesecake and trying to pass it off as my own. Um, no... Totally all me. I rock in the pastry department.

Then we watched Talladega Nights and cuddled some more. All in all, a very fabulous, relaxing evening.

My son is also apparently well on his way to becoming a nudist. Seriously, we're in the door less than ten minutes and his monkey ass is stripped down to his underwear. What is it with children parading around nearly nude?

My tummy loves Blackwater.

2011-11-02T18:55:00.003-05:00

I had a date last night. Yeah, that's been happening a lot lately. Dating is bullshit, but it also is not. Seeing as I've only had one bad date, I'm kind of digging this whole dating thing.

Last night was my first date with Travis, the guy I blogged about texting with the other day. Seeing as how our text message conversations have been riveting and full of hilarity, I was very damn excited to meet him in person. He has a thing for old-fashioned military pinup girls, so I decided to go with something to accentuate the hourglass figure. :) I wore a fitted black pinstripe pencil skirt that hugs my curves, a green button up shirt, a black lace camisole, black pantyhose and black peeptoe pumps.

Yeah, he's 5'9". I'm so cruel.

We agreed to meet at one of my favorite bars, the one where I used the best pickup line ever. I ended up getting there a little early, luckily, because so did he. He looked adorable in jeans and a button up shirt, and was far cuter than his profile pictures. We picked a table and sat down. There were some fun awkward silences... He was a little quiet, but he found me to be entertaining. Which, hi? Awesome.

There was definitely an attraction in the air... Even though we both joked about how we were incredibly ugly and stupid, lol. The conversation flowed better as the night progressed, and the sexual innuendo was rampant. It was really fun, I was actually disappointed it had to end.

He walked me outside, and cracked a joke about how he needed a stepladder... And then he kissed me. And it was lovely and wonderful. He's a good kisser.

We talked for a while again last night and today. We've got plans to see each other again, just trying to figure out what we're going to end up doing. :) And I'm very pleased with this plan.

Chalk one more in the 'decidedly NOT bullshit' column for the dating tally.

Breathe... Just breathe.

2011-10-31T12:17:00.003-05:00

Breathe really is a funny looking word, isn't it? It seems like there shouldn't be an 'e' on the end of it.

I really have the urge to write something. I'm not sure exactly what that is yet, but keep hanging with me and I'm sure I'll spark something witty and hilarious. And if not, you're welcome. This will be a few minutes of your life you'll never get back.

Yesterday was an interesting day... Hung out with Erf and Erflet, had our family time. As we were walking around Target, I got some texts from Jason. The long and short of the story is that I ended up urging him to get back together with his ex-girlfriend. Yeah, that stung a little. Mostly the lost potential. But I am trying to keep reminding myself that things work out the way they're supposed to, and if Jason and I are meant to have a relationship things will work their way toward that eventually. And if he's meant to be with his ex, then I did the right thing.

Still hurts. Oh well. Feelings are bullshit anyways. As long as he's happy, and we can still be friends. Because really, he's far too awesome to let go of as a friend. I need someone to finish watching Firefly with. :) I've already made good progression toward talking my girl brain down from her crazyness. I'm sure by tomorrow I'll be back to normal for the most part. And of course I'll behave myself, because I don't pee in another girl's litterbox.

Both literally and figuratively.

Today is Halloween and I'm pretty damn pleased to say that I am crafting a pretty fun costume this year. I found a homemade blue dress at Savers for $7, made iridescent sequined shoes, and I'm going as an Ice Queen. I'm pretty excited, because ice means covering myself in sparkly stuff. And I love me some sparkly stuff! :)

Oh my dear lord...

2011-10-29T21:46:00.003-05:00

This was just too funny not to make into a blog post. Here is a conversation I had this afternoon with a guy I met on OkCupid (texts are typed verbatim):

Me: Perhaps. I don't kiss and tell. :)

Guy: LOL but do you swallow :p

Me: It is the difference between like and love... ;)

Guy: Really that's how you let a guy know you love him lol

Me: No, otherwise I would be in love a lot...

Guy: LMAO your such a smartass

Me: Usually... Few can keep up with me in a battle of wits.

Guy: Good thing I fight with sarcasm

Me: I sense a challenge. Don't think I won't kick your geriatric ass, old man.

Guy: You must have me confused with your other men

Me: Probably. You're all so interchangable.

Guy: Just like women

Me: Playing the 'lump the gender into a stereotype' game, huh? lol

Guy: LOL one hole is the same as another ;)

Me: Very nice, that was pretty good. But the fetus cannon doesn't talk.

Guy: Neither should the cum dumpster

Me: Agreed. Women spew forth such worthless drivel.

Guy: You are hilarious

Me: Thank you, I agree. :) You're doing a decent job keeping up with me.

Guy: I think we will get along just fine

Me: I think so, too. Thus far you've kept my interest.

Guy: I have a penis I'm sure it's not difficult

Me: That was brilliant.

Me: But is it enough to keep my attention beyond giggling?

Guy: It's not porn star quality but it gets the job done as long as your not as big as the grand

canon (I think he meant canyon, lol)

Me: It's like fuckin a bucket, just so you know...

Guy: So I can stick my head in and wiggle my ears

Me: Sweet, my own personal gspot tickler.

Guy: LOL

Me: Hot dog down a hallway? Wrench in a closet?...

Guy: Hear an echo

Me: Hell yes. It comes with it's own spiderwebs...

Guy: Now I know thats bullshit cause it gets WAY too much action to build cobwebs

Me: You're assuming the guys are large enough to hit the bottom.

Guy: I'm sure you have a midget to clean it out

Me: OMG, no. That's a great idea. It's hard to get my hand up that far.

Guy: Gues I'm gonna just have to stick to using your ass

Me: Let's just say I could shit a Lincoln and not feel a thing.

Guy: Damn your just all stretched to hell

Me: Yep. You picked the used car of whores...

Guy: Well I hope your bj's are amazing cause you're going to be doing them a lot then

Me: They're best when I take my teeth out...

Guy: Awesome never had a gum job

Me: Sweet. I love gumming a hairy nutsack.

Guy: Too bad I shave my balls

Me: Less hair to cough up later.

And checkmate.

I really do turn a lovely shade of merlot when I'm embarassed...

2011-10-24T20:56:00.003-05:00

Today I went out for lunch with my mom and a few of her co-workers... We went to Applebees. Because, duh, 2 for $20? Of course!

I gorged myself on boneless wings and ate 1/4 of my salad, but whatever.

We had a really cute server. Really cute. Of course everyone at the table comments on it, and I agreed...

I smiled, held my glances a few times, being generally flirtatious, but trying not to be overly so. He brought us some plates for our appetizers and asked if we needed anything, and I said something along the lines of no thank you, but I didn't look at him. My mom comments on how flirty I was.

Um, huh? Wha? I didn't even LOOK at him! Apparently the flirt was in my voice. Huh.

So then he commented on her nails, and I kind of struck a conversation about how I designed them and he was smiling and flirting, and I was smiling and flirting back.

After he walks away from the table and we THOUGHT he was out of earshot, my mom and I turn to each other and say, "Now THAT was flirting!"

He walks back and says, "Yes, it was!"

I turned such a lovely shade of deep red at that point. It was still nice to have our suspicions confirmed. :) Luckily he was really cool about it and it didn't really get awkward, but I just had to write a blog post about it. It was too funny.

Yes, I left him the link... Clever, no?

Alright, back to Castle to distract myself from my piece of shit phone being a total douche canoe and not working. AGAIN. Less than two months until I'm eligible for upgrade... Less than two months until the archaic motherfucker gets it's ass traded in for credit...

I will have a replacement coming in, but it doesn't get in until Wednesday. Until then, I can only make phone calls. FML. *sigh* Oh, well.

It's all about the Yamslam.

2011-10-21T21:51:00.002-05:00

I'm sitting here with a huge grin on my face.

OkCupid, you have redeemed yourself. Seriously. I'm happy to know that not all the guys on there are creepers. Matter of fact, I met one who has thus far been pretty damn awesome. (Referencing a previous post, he's the one who is slightly older, witty and smart)

Messaging was slow at first, but excellent conversation nonetheless. Then we began exchanging texts, and the conversations got exponentially more fantastic. It takes a lot to stimulate me on both an intellectual and humorous level, and this guy hits both of those in just the right way. We start talking on the phone. Like teenagers. It has been refreshing, fun and exciting. Topics range all over the map, and he gets serious bonus points for being a Nathan Fillion fan.

The best part of all of this? It hasn't felt awkward at all. The only phrase I can come up with to encompass the way it's felt is that everything has just flowed naturally. When you can talk to a stranger for 2 1/2 hours four nights in a row, you click.

The conversation of course progressed to the discussion of meeting in person. He stalked me and found my blog (Hi, Jason!), and was even sweet enough to give me his personal info so I could quell any worries by Googling him. He was worried that I would censor myself when writing about our date... Oh kittens, you know me well enough to know that isn't the case.

Fortunately the thought of censoring myself never needed to flit it's squicky fingers against my mind, because there is absolutely nothing I would not be willing to say to him about our date. We ended up sort of combining both of my other first dates into our date today, and blew them both right the fuck out of the water with our combined awesomeness. We met for coffee and breakfast, and that was relaxed and fun. Lots of silences staring into each other's eyes and smiling. Yeah, go get your barf buckets kittens; I'm waxing poetic and feeling the uterus taking firm control. Shut UP.

I'll rein the bitch in, but for tonight I'm enjoying it. Just go with it.

We walked around Canal Park and browsed the local shops, particularly the antique shops (which, hi? Sparkly old fashioned jewelry?)... Jason found the gasps of happiness I frequently made when seeing sparkly things very entertaining. I'm a girl, it's sparkly. And sparkly is one of my favorite colors. We did see the bottom half of a mannequin hanging from the ceiling by chains in one shop at the Dewitt-Seitz Marketplace (sort of a mini mall with local businesses), and he took a photo of it. Awesome.

We held hands. We browsed art galleries. We were followed everywhere by photos and paintings of scary and homicidal-looking clowns. Like Pennywise, eat-your-motherfucking-brain-scary clowns. It was damn funny. Lots of paused glances where we would look into each other's eyes and both totally chicken out about kissing each other.

We went to lunch and had some of the most delicious pizza I've ever had... Margherita base pizza with mozzarella, goat cheese, prosciutto and arugula. See also, eating arugula without pizza is not the best idea I've ever had. That shit burns. I felt like I had the vagina of a woman of ill repute replacing my mouth. The restaurant plays some of my favorite music, and pretty much every song that came on was a song I love. Baby It's Cold Outside, La Vie En Rose, Sway... I so wanted to get up and dance. La Vie En Rose makes you want to have someone's arms wrapped around you, moving to the rhythm of the music...

Luckily neither one of us minded the garlic breath from the pizza. :)

Yes, to answer your question, we are going to get together again. Yes, my insides feel like I have the thoughts of a giggly little 15 year old girl replacing my own. Yes, I'm squealing internally at the thought of spending more time with him. Yes, I'm aware that I am a huge pink beaver. No, I'm not ashamed of it.

This date? It was decidedly NOT bullshit.

Holy mother of crack, guys are squicky.

2011-10-15T22:59:00.002-05:00

Seriously though!

So as many of you probably already know, I've joined OkCupid to try and score some dates and meet new people. Of course, you'll always run into creepers.

My first creeper was actually before coffee date guy, a guy who messaged me simply asking, "Do you ever let that heel dangle off the end of your foot?"

Um, I'm really not into foot fetishes you weirdo. I'm sure there are women out there willing to flog your log with their feet, but I'm not one of them. Nor will I take a dump on your toes.

Then there was coffee date guy. Nuff said.

There was a guy who did nothing but respond to everything I said with some comment about how cute or hot he thought I was. Then it progressed to him telling me he thought I looked 'toned' (see also: WTF?) and that he thought I could probably lift him. And would I lift him cradle or piggyback? He didn't think I could sling him over my shoulder. But he was nice enough to say he hoped that I wouldn't fall carrying him. Then he told me he wouldn't mind kissing me.

Flirting: you're doing it so wrong.

Then came the mother of all creepers... The married guy looking for a mistress.

It started off with the typical innocent, 'what are you up to tonight?'

It progressed into him telling me he was looking for some adult fun and that he can't send me pics (his profile was ass blank, which was my first red flag) because he's on the 'downlow'.

Downlow? Really? Is this a fucking drug deal, you retard?

Second red flag. This is looking like a bull fight.

Eventually I ask him why, if he's banking $100k (also: yeah fucking right!), is he on here. He could easily be getting girls pretty much anywhere.

He's married and unsatisfied in bed. Looking for a fuck buddy and some occasional conversation. Yeah, even I can't keep up the prodding at this point. I was done.

Honestly, this is when, 'does this smell like chloroform to you?' isn't just a cute and quirky pickup line. It's for real. That's the sort of shit that gets you stuffed in a trunk then eventually tied up in a torture chamber.

And not the good kind.

Also, I'm not the kind of girl who is willing to be a knowing party to a cheater. I can't bear the guilt of knowing I'm causing someone I don't know pain. There's just no call for that. If you're that unsatisfied, you should work it out with your wife.

Besides, if I'm going to have casual sex with a rich guy, I want it to be a single one so I don't have to worry about pretending to be a telemarketer if I call him and his wife answers the phone.

Just one more thing I have in common with Debra Morgan.

2011-10-12T22:46:00.002-05:00

If you don't know who Debra Morgan is, well, I just feel sorry for you not having experienced the wonder that is Dexter. I heart him like whoa, and I would so marry him and make Harrison a good mama.

Anywho.

So Sunday night was my date with drywall guy, and this date actually went rather well! I met him at a local brewery/pizzeria owned by a couple I know (sending business to the locals, ftw!) around 7. Yes, I texted my mom to let her know when I got there. Apparently by 9 she was beginning to get worried. Good thing beer has a direct line to my bladder, because I texted her when I was peeing and she relaxed a little.

We had a good date, it was low key, and there was beer and pizza... Which, hi? Awesome.

I told him I thought he sounded surprised when I called him last week, and he said that he was. He told me he was driving and thought it was a client calling, and had to pull off to the side of the road because he was so shocked. Yeah, I was totally 'awww'ing on the inside. :) So sweet.

I'm pretty sure he's around 40, which is what I have in common with Debra Morgan. He's kind of like my Special Agent Lundy. Except I haven't slept with him. The night ended in a hug, which was nice. He hasn't called yet, but I'm not too stressed out. If I don't hear from him by tomorrow I'll call him. There was some confusion, he may be waiting for me to call. I'd feel a little bad if that's the case!

I've been talking to a few guys from OkCupid, and they're all pretty cool so far. One in particular is hilarious, one is sweet, and the other is also a little older but witty and smart. So I've got a little rainbow of flavor going on.

God it's good to be keeping busy! Except this motherfucking cold that's creeping up on me. I wanna kick it in the taco so hard it's great grandchildren will be born walleyed.

Alright, I know it's a short post but I'm heading to bed now to try and whip this cold's ass. Tomorrow calls for vitamin C with a strong chance of hot tea.

Wow, 100 posts already!

2011-10-09T15:51:00.004-05:00

Too bad I'm such a dipshit about writing new blogs. But at least I usually write about something entertaining! Right?...

*crickets* Ahem.

I have a complaint, kittens. I recently joined OkCupid for fun, hoping to meet some new people and maybe score a few dates. I have learned a hard lesson about dating websites. Because of course my first date from an online source would be stereotypical. Jesus. My complaint isn't about OkCupid (though some of their 'match questions' are seriously lame. WTF.), but about my first date.

I was messaged by a guy who had a nice, original message complimenting my profile and how he thought I put a lot of thought into it and thought I was funny. I already knew that. We started IMing, and his picture was cute and his profile was nice. He asked if I wanted to meet for coffee.

Well, I was sitting at home with nothing to do, so I figured why not. I told him I had to take a quick shower, then I'd be happy to meet him at a local coffee place. It's public and busy, so no real risk. I texted my mom letting her know my whereabouts so she could send the fuzz after me if I disappeared. Bases were covered.

I show up and I'm waiting for him, and not seeing anyone who looks like his profile picture. (Yeah, make your jokes about this sounding like a bad rom-com) A guy walks up to me and says, "Ashley?" Um, hi... You look nothing like your profile.

I now ask any guy I'm messaging with to send me a recent pic.

He's a fluffier than his pic, which wouldn't have been a problem. The problem was that he showed up unshaven (WTF, dude?) in a zip up hoodie sweatshirt and jeans. Seriously, I get it. It's a coffee date, I didn't dress up by any means, but would a nice t-shirt have been to much to ask? Or shaving? He had an hour and a half from the time we agreed to meet! Who is okay with letting that be their first impression on a first date?!

WHAT THE FUCK.

He was nice and funny, but I picked up a little of that clinger-ish vibe. He kept touching me, so it was very obvious that he was into me. I didn't feel any connection whatsoever. What really put me on the fence about the whole thing was when he reached down and stroked my leg (I wore a skirt), saying he was checking to see if I shaved my legs. Um, hells to the nos. Don't even be all critical over whether my legs are Sasquatch-y when you couldn't even shave your face or brush your teeth.

He messaged me asking for my cell number again (I had sent it to him in case he needed to reschedule for some reason) so I gave it to him. I figured I'll give him another chance, go on another date and see what happens. So he starts texting me and is getting more and more creeperish with every text. "You've told me what your pet peeves are, now I want to know what makes your heart melt" is not really appropriate after one date. Just, no.

So I bit the bullet and told him I didn't think it was such a good idea for us to see each other again, because really, it isn't fair if I'm not into it. A free latte and a few hours of good conversation are one thing, but knowingly going out with a guy for dinner when I'm not feeling it isn't something I can do. I can be a bitch when the situation calls for it, but I'm not a mean spirited person. He was less than pleased, of course. I felt horrible, but I refuse to lead a guy on.

So I got my first first date out of the way, let's hope the drywall guy date tonight goes a little better! :)

I've got a few other guys I've been talking to that seem nice. I'm going to message them for a while before meeting them though. Especially because one is from a town about an hour away and I would feel pretty shitty if he drove up here for a mediocre date. :)

Dating really is bullshit, but it's fun sometimes too.

The evolution of the girl formerly closed off from social interaction

2011-10-05T20:24:00.002-05:00

It started back in May with a flirtation from a hot guy.

It progressed to making out with a guy I had just met (and nothing more).

Now, it will all culminate in the event I've been waiting for... My first date.

Yes, I've officially been invited out on my first real date. Jilly and I were out at the local Irish bar again last night, and a guy behind us told the bartender he would like to buy us a drink. Well fuck yeah, of course! We had a delicious shot made into a drink called the Ugly Betty, which is a specialty of theirs. And it is orgasmically good.

We got our drinks, turned around, cheered, introduced ourselves and continued on. I was, of course, totally flattered because I've never had a random guy buy me a drink before. Smiling like a fucking idiot working her diaper.

Speaking of crotchitals, I wore the most gorgeous 5" stilettos EVAR (Yes, I'm six feet tall and love wearing sky high heels). For your drooling pleasure, may I present my newest love, in pink. I had to pee (I swear beer is a damn diuretic), and when I sat down to pee I almost fell off the damn toilet because I forgot to account for the extra 5" drop. Not a mistake I made again the rest of the night, but it was funny as hell to sit on the toilet and have my knees come up to my knockers.

So after we finished our drinks and were waiting on a friend of Jilly's to show up so we could hit the titty bar again, the guy who bought the drinks came up behind us and asked if we were still thirsty. We politely declined, explaining that we were getting ready to leave. He turns to me and said something along the lines of, 'I don't normally do this but here is my card. I'd like to maybe take you out for drinks sometime. You have really beautiful eyes.'

I am pretty sure I turned purple, I blushed so hard. For being a dirty perv, I sure do blush like a prissy prude. Very annoying.

I took his card and we thanked him and went on enjoying the rest of the evening. I had my ass grabbed by a hot stripper, it was great.

When I got home, I Googled him... Sort of odd, but in this day and age it would be stupid not to take advantage of the opportunity. Nothing odd showed up, just a few blurbs about the business he owns - which I already knew from the card. So I figured what the hell, everyone deserves a fair shake, right? (Not that kind of shake, dirty kittens.)

I called him.

I have no idea if I broke some unspoken rule about how long you should wait to call a guy who gave you his card because zomg he'll think you're a desperate tramp if you call him right away but I'm pretty sure that might only apply to girls who call the guy like a half an hour after they last see them because that would be really stupid and if I don't know what the social rules are does it really matter if I've broken them because I can just sort of make up my own and I mean at least I waited until the following day right?

*deep breath down into the diaphragm*

Whatever. I did it. He sounded kind of surprised that I called, and it was a little awkward being all, 'So, um, you said you wanted to take me out for drinks... Are you still up for that?' I actually said something along the lines of, 'I wasn't sure if you were drunk enough not to remember me...'

Motherfucking linguistic master, that's me.

So anyways, he had me pick where I wanted to go and I picked a local pub that makes their own microbrews and some awesome pizza. Pizza and beer is a pretty low-key, casual first date. And what guy doesn't love a girl who likes pizza and beer? If nothing else, it will hopefully be a nice way to spend an evening. And it'll boost my ego into nosebleed territory.

My first date. Wow. Times, they are a'changin.

Fresh beginnings...

2011-09-25T09:25:00.006-05:00

After a few hours of meaningless web surfing, I finally found a new blog template. I figure the refreshed availability of blog posting opportunity deserves a new design. And this one isn't nearly as dark as the old one and fits me much better. Pink diamonds? Hello? Yes! Plus, it looks sassy, and this is Sassy Pie after all.

This past week I had my first strip club experience. I know, right? I can't believe it took me until the age of 26 to hit a strip club either. I wanted to go much, much sooner, but Erf never wanted to go. I met a my friend Jilly out at a local Irish bar Tuesday night, and let me just say that apparently Irish bars are the places where hot guys hang out. Oh dear sweet baby Jesus, it was a veritable meat buffet in there. We decided to go to a local strip club that Jilly used to waitress at, and I was, of course, super excited. We walked in, and it was fairly tame. It was a Tuesday night, of course, so it was pretty much a bunch of regulars. We met a few of her guy friends there and hung out with them. They paid for our drinks, which, hello? Awesome!

Then I got to get a little dance from a cute stripper named Myth. She had a nice ass, a tight body and small tits. First she wrapped her leg around the back of my neck (hot!) and slapped my face with her thigh and ass. Then she got down on her knees and proceeded to praise my boobs... It was awesome. "Oh my god, these are Baywatch boobs! You could just see them running down a beach!" And then she snuggled into them, and told me they were so soft and comfortable she could just fall asleep on them. Yeah, that pretty much describes my rack. Next time I'll have to make sure I wear a really low cut shirt so I can have the stripper's face in my tits.

And holy mother lover, am I ever enjoying being single. It all began with the most interesting pickup line ever, and it's been nothing but fun (and sometimes awkward) times since then. From finding a talented friend with benefits to making out with a guy I've never met before, to getting free drinks at the bar, I've been loving every minute of it. I've always been a social creature, and during my years with Erf I became progressively introverted and someone who wasn't herself. It was like that chick from Titanic. I felt as if I was in the middle of a crowded room screaming, and no one even looked up. That feeling of being trapped inside someone who isn't you, it's terrifying. I'm returning more and more to myself, and a lot of that involves finding out new things I never knew. It's wonderful and scary, but necessary. I can't be someone I'm not.

Not anymore. :)

The little girl is growing up...

2011-09-23T14:04:00.005-05:00

I've got big girl internet now! As in totally and completely mine, no one else can kype it. And I shall call my network, '404 Error'. I figure anyone in my apartment building that has any idea what it means will get a chuckle out of it.

And the sweet Southern technician was kind enough to give me the hookup of free basic cable. So now I also have 70 channels instead of the basic local channels. Which means I can freaking watch CAKE BOSS!!! Fuck yeah.

I have had a post in my head for quite some time now, the thoughts they have been bubbling and colliding and usually it just ends up with me getting a fucking headache. But now, my kittens, I can freaking post it!

This all began with a status update on Facebook. Something asking why, when people are asked what they would bring to a desert island, does no one ever respond with, 'a boat'? I proceeded to respond with a long rant about how stupid people can be. Because really? Why is it that people always respond to that question with something stupid like, 'OMGZ!!1 I can't live without my iPod!!!'

Honestly, a fucking mp3 player? For real? I mean I get that you want some form of entertainment, but how in the hell do you plan to recharge that iPod? You get to choose anything on the planet to bring with you, and you're choosing four or five hours of entertainment. And if you do manage to create some bastard child coconut invention that will recharge it, you're not ever going to have anything but your current playlist. Eventually you will be one of those crazy Castaway fuckers who is dancing about the island in a horribly assembled coconut bra and nothing else, dancing the 'Vogue'. And if by some chance you are encountered by rescuers, you'll probably run into the brush, curl up in the fetal position, and softly sing, 'Like A Prayer' to yourself in a soothing manner. Moral of the story? Life isn't a mystery. Pick something a little more realistic and sensible than temporary satisfaction.

The other people who entertain me are the ones who decide to bring their Chanel lipstick. Or whatever the fuck brand name crazy expensive tube of mashed up bug carcass they're attached to. Who the hell do you need to impress out there? The vultures who will surely be gnawing your rotting body? Because if you're going to be stupid enough to choose lipstick as your 'can't live without' item, you're definitely going to be dead within a month. Be practical and bring a water filtration system. Really.

Where are the practical people who choose things like water filtration systems, radios, boats, fat people to eat, solar charged vibrators, etc? I get that it's a metaphorical question, but why answer in a way that makes other people question your intelligence?

Well ain't that the shit?

2011-07-19T21:16:00.001-05:00

So wow, I have once again fallen into the land of the Intarwebz-less. Whoever my fabulous neighbors were who had unlocked internet, I miss you. Come back.

Anywho, I've had a plot in my head for a post since Amy told me about a very innocent (and hilarious) comment her niece made.

Her niece asked her mom, "Do princesses poop?"

Yes, I cracked up laughing. Cause poop is fucking funny, ya'll.

Of course we all know that real princesses poop. It's not like Kate had her poop chute sewn up because it's not ladylike to lay a deuce. Nope, she sends a log right on down just like everyone else.

(At this point I'm wondering how many euphemisms I can come up with for pooping before I run out and need to turn to Dr. Google for help.)

My belief, however, is that a three year old mind is fairly unfettered when it comes to real life princesses. She more than likely was referring to princesses of the Disney variety. This led me to ask my co-workers their opinions on pooping princesses. (Dudes, that would be the funniest band name ever. The Pooping Princesses. I claim royalties. Ha! Get it? Royalties, princesses?)

Let's break it down, shall we? The first princess mentioned was Jasmine. Tony made the astute observation that, 'she's hot'. Yes, yes she is. But the real question is, does she poop? Can you imagine her looking at Al and being all, "Um, honey? Can you turn Carpet off the next exit? I need to drop the kids off at the pool. No, I'm not going for an abortion, you asshole. I just have to take a crap."

Then we pondered Ariel. That bitch has no identifiable brown eye. I don't see how she could poke a turtle head. I mean, really. Is there a colostomy bag inside that tail? Is that why she's got so much junk in the trunk? Because real fish have poopers. You always see at least one fish in the aquarium swimming around with a little string of doody.

How about Belle? I can't see her looking at Lumiere during a rousing rendition of, 'Be Our Guest' and telling him to pause the music because she's gotta take the Browns to the Superbowl.

And Sleeping Beauty? That bitch lives in the woods and eats a lot of fucking berries. You KNOW she goes #2. does Aurora shit in the woods? I bet she does.

Snow White... She lives with 7 little men, and you know those disgusting little bastards take some dwarf-sized dumps. She probably didn't have to worry about what they thought when she was collecting her thoughts.

What's your opinion, kittens? Do Disney princesses poop?

Why Helen Keller would not make a good girlfriend...

2011-05-26T21:51:00.003-05:00

So everyone has heard the bemused meandering thoughts of the general male population about how someone like Helen Keller would make the perfect girlfriend. She's blind, deaf, and mute! Cut her off at the knees and every guy in the free world will be chasing after her.

Except, you know, she'd probably run into a wall attempting to run away from the hordes of admiring cock-wielders.

However, due to a conversation I had with a friend, I began thinking about how terrible of a girlfriend she really would make. No really, kittens; hear me out.

I assume that unless you're over the age of 50 or have been living in a goddamn cave, you've heard the phrase, 'bitch, get in the kitchen and make me a sandwich'. Now do me a favor, and imagine someone who is blind, mute and deaf making a sandwich.

How would she know the difference between turkey, ham, roast beef or salami? Between swiss and havarti? What the hell would happen if she cut herself? I mean, it's not like she can scream for help. She'd sit in the kitchen slowly bleeding to death, running into the wall in panic with an amputated thumb while you sit on the couch hungry.

And can you imagine how much of a pain it would be to have to either stomp your feet or throw something at her to get her attention? It's far too much of a pain in the ass to deal with. I mean, really, who has time to learn that sign language bullshit? Maybe you could create an abbreviated sign language. A slap on the ass means, 'on your knees, bitch.' A slap on the hand means, 'I'm hungry, go make me some food.' A slap on the face means, 'you're drooling, knock that shit off.' You get the gist of it...

And if you enjoy dirty talk in bed, fuggedaboutit.

No more, 'Oh yes, harder! Deeper! Fuck me with that huge cock, you porn star!' or 'Dear sweet jesus, no, not again!' or even, 'Rrruff, rruff... *whimper, whine*"

All you will be getting, good sir, is a bunch of muffled moaning that sounds like a zombie with a mouth full of pantyhose.

Enjoy that, along with your thumb-less, drooling sexual partner. Don't say I didn't tell you so.

The most interesting pickup line ever.

2011-05-18T19:58:00.002-05:00

I was in top form this Monday night.

It probably didn't help (or maybe it did) that I was in a semi-pissy mood from yet ANOTHER GODDAMN MACHINE breaking down... Or at least, that I thought it had.

I was describing to my father (the same man who exclaimed, 'look at that gorgeous crushed velvet dress!' and, 'oh my god, that's a real Tiffany lamp!' watching Auntie Mame) the house my coworker rents a room in. The man who owns it has a house full of gorgeous antiques, and he can talk about them and their history like he's an appraiser. I was creaming my panties listening to the history of all these beautiful pieces. My dad can obviously appreciate my appreciation.

This somehow leads to this:

Me: "Dad, you are so gay."

Dad: "I'm not gay, I'm just happy."

Me: "Yeah, happy to have a dick in your mouth."

Mom: "She's in peak form tonight!"

Yes, I really do talk to my parents like this. And they're all for it. And things like this are just a few of the many reasons I love them and am so thankful I can be myself around them. So many of my friends have to censor themselves and put on a face for their parents. And it's not that I don't respect them, because I really do. I only make remarks like this in good humor.

Later on that night we were discussing my dating post, and my dad asks, "What's the worst pickup line ever?"

To which I respond, "Does this rag smell like chloroform to you?"

He cracks up laughing, because that's exactly what he was going to say.

The reason this is pertinent information, kittens, is because I actually used this line last night. It wasn't a real come-on, but I used it all the same. Felt like a douche the entire time.

My friend and I went out for apps and drinks at one of my favorite (and expensive) local bars last night. They have a fun drink menu, they play lots of old swing like Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra, and the atmosphere is just fabulous. As we're drinking, her coworker texts her telling her he is at a nearby bar. She invites him over for a drink. He shows, but doesn't see us snuggled in the comfy armchairs in the corner, and heads to the bar with his friends. My friend is blocked from his sight by the piano, but I am not. I'm laughing watching him scan the bar for us. I asked her if I should go get him using my 'chloroform' pickup line. She dares me.

Kittens, I cannot back down. I've got a mad dope street cred rep to uphold, yo.

I should be hanged, shot, drawn, quartered and dipped in boiling oil for typing that.

Anywho, I grab my napkin and walk over. I linger behind him as if perusing the bar contents, because I'm all blushy and nervous. My heart was pounding. I'm such a goddamn pussy.

I walk around to his side, and say, "Hi."

Motherfucking linguistic master, that's me.

He replies, "Hi there." But it was like one of those drawn out, "Hiiii there..." replies. Keep in mind that I am wearing a gorgeous dress that totally highlights copious amounts of cleavage. And I had on a pearl necklace. Not that kind, you dirty whores. One that dipped into said cleavage. And gorgeous 3 1/2" stilettos. Even my thick skull was registering that he found me attractive.

I blurt out something retarded like, "I am coming over on behalf of a friend who dared me to use this pickup line on you."

He tells me to go for it.

I hold up my napkin and say, "Does this smell like chloroform to you?"

He laughs. Women with him look annoyed. It's obvious neither is his girlfriend, and if they can't take a joke, fuck 'em.

Then I tell him friend and I are sitting over there *gestures to where friend is peeking over the top of the piano laughing* and he's welcome to join us.

He stops me and says, "Is that all you've got for me? No more pickup lines?"

I reply, "I'm not very good at the pickup lines, I'm better at witty comebacks."

He begins firing off hilarious lines like, "Is that a keg in your pants? Because I'd like to tap that ass." and, "Do you wash your pants with Windex, because I can see myself in them."

Thinking back, I should have fired back with something witty like, "Nice pants, they'd look great on my bedroom floor." But I was trying to gather my synapses to keep from turning into a giggly pile of girly jello simply from being flirted with, so I was understandably preoccupied.

He did end up joining us for a while, and he had the whole geek thing going on that I fall for. I have no idea what it is about men in (well-chosen, appropriate) glasses that makes my panties wet, but it just is.

Thus I had my first recognizable flirtation with a guy I've never met before. It was sort of like heroin... Now I can't shake the craving for it. :)

Dating and other random bullshit.

2011-05-10T22:54:00.002-05:00

So remember how I said my parents would never set me up on Match.com?

Well, now I'm not so sure. Probably not on match.com, because they apparently don't want me to find someone to love... I was having my weekly Castle date with them on Monday, and we were talking about my blog and the entry where Amy threatened to set me up a profile. We began discussing my re-entry into the dating world -

Or, let's face it, it should be entry into the dating world. Erf and I met and began dating when I was 16, I've never really 'dated' anyone before.

- and I told my parents that I don't plan on getting married again anytime soon, and therefore I am not looking for someone to be in a real relationship with. I want, like any other sane (or insane) woman who finds herself single after being with one person for so long, to date. I want to be asked out on dates, I want someone who will buy me dinner, I want the confidence boost of knowing that I'm wanted by someone. If I ever do settle down again, I don't want the nagging fear and doubt following me wherever I go...

Am I with this person because I don't think anyone else could possibly want me? Is there anyone else who finds me attractive?

Not that I particularly find either of those statements to be in the resounding negative, but I've always wondered.

(Here comes the self-centered retrospective where I sound pathetic... FYI.)

Back in high school (which, in the words of a friend, high school fucking sucked anyway), I was hardly ever hit on. I had two serious boyfriends and one not very serious boyfriend. Maybe I radiated that oh-so-sexy, 'serial-monogamist' vibe. I have no idea. But whether the guy-like glitch in my brain just didn't pick up on it or it just wasn't there, I never saw longing glances. Never saw myself get checked out. Never noticed flirtation. There was a guy I was and still am good friends with that indicated interest, but he was pretty obvious about it. I couldn't have missed it if I tried.

So all of this planted that seed of doubt. Why didn't guys seem to check me out? Why have I never once been asked out since Erf? Not that I would have said yes while we were together, of course, but the sentiment would have counted. I would have been flattered. My head would have tilted from the inflation. Alas, nada.

Perhaps that guy-like glitch causes me to miss anything less subtle than a sledgehammer to the cerebral cortex. Or maybe I'm just over paranoid. I think I'm pretty, (and I'm not looking for reassurance here) and I see no reason why I shouldn't have been at least asked out once. I know I can be quite intimidating, but I've got a great rack and nice eyes. What the hell, guys?

So anywho, I want to know I'm wanted. That a guy found me and my charisma attractive enough to ask out. That my brash exuberance isn't a deterrent. Jesus, I sound like a fucking nutjob. I want to slap my own face and tell myself , 'Stop being such a fucking douche canoe!'

So my parents tell me that I should get married again... But this time, I should marry for money. Because dammit, someone needs to take care of them in their old age.

I responded that they should be nice to me, since I'll be the one picking their nursing home. And if they're nice, I'll put them in one with nice big rats they can chase down to eat.

Also, I'd like to give my awesome, fabulous parents a shout out. They gave me the coolest birthday gifts I never would have thought to ask for...

A bottle of Silver Patron and Jagermeister, and a coupon for $100 toward a new mattress that I've been needing since I moved in.

As they eloquently phrased it, 'Something to make you pass out, and something to pass out on.'

I love my parents. They are wicked awesome.

Erflet and I went hiking on a local trail, and my back and leg muscles are still a little stiff. I haven't done any real hiking since the fall, and I missed it so much. There were a few gorgeous scenic overlooks that we stopped at, all of them overlooking the bay and harbor of Lake Superior, the Aerial Lift Bridge and Ely's Peak. I can't wait to take him hiking again, I'm hoping that this Sunday it's gorgeous out. Or maybe next Wednesday, if I my new tech is comfortable enough to close alone.

I'm thinking of starting the Superior Hiking Trail at a different trail head, or perhaps wandering around Gooseberry Park up near Silver Bay.

Either way, its something fun, healthy, and a great bonding time for me and my son. I love that little guy so much. He's the love of my life... :)

Holy mother lover, another damn birthday already?

2011-05-06T22:40:00.002-05:00

Birthdays. I have a serious love/hate relationship with them.

Not that stupid, 'Oh em gee, I'm getting older this sux!' sort of love/hate. The love of being adored for the day, of having people pay some miniscule amount of attention to you (cause if you can't tell by the fact that I, oh, BLOG, I am a bit of an attention whore), of everyone being curious 'what you're doing for your birthday'...

And the hate that for me, birthdays just never seem to pan out. I think it all began with my 18th birthday. Up until that 'magical' (read: bullshit) year, birthdays were pretty okay for me. Then my grandma died. And when the discussion for when her memorial was going on, my aunt suggested Thursday.

Any day but Thursday, I pleaded.

Why, they asked.

It's my birthday...

And I think that kind of ruined birthdays for me. My family felt terrible and did what they could to make it up to me. (Also, Molly Ringwald; fuck you and your sixteen candles) Of course I forgave them, and I hold no ill will, but my birthday track record kind of blows goats.

My 21st birthday was spent not being wished happy birthday by my fiancee, then cleaning the house and cooking dinner for my aunt and cousin.

My 25th was spent cleaning and cleaning up vomit. (Though I did get a job a few days prior - the one that made me a manager in less than a year - so that was a good gift)

My 24th had a great beginning... Met my parents for drinks at a local bar that I love, went to Applebees for dinner and was in the process of doing blowjob shots with my dad... Then my sister fell asleep babysitting and I had to rush home to make sure everything was ok because no one could reach her. Obviously I did not go back out after I got home.

This year, I have no idea what's in store for me. Tonight I picked up Erflet at my grandparents' house, and my grandpa had baked me a cake, and spelled out, 'HB' (for happy birthday) in Jelly Bellys. It was a lovely surprise. :) It's supposed to be in the low 60s and sunny, so I'm hoping to take Erflet for a hike. I haven't gone hiking since the fall, and I think we both need a dose of vitamin D. Besides, it will be a lovely way to spend the day with my little love.

Then I'm going to come home and bake chocolate bacon cupcakes. Fuck you, work people, it's my birthday and I want chocolatey pig for my birthday.

Also, on a similar note, I'm apparently trying to fatten up my co-workers. I brought a huge batch of homemade salsa (read: YUM. My salsa rocks) in to work on Wednesday. Monday, I'm bringing those bitches cupcakes. Bitches love cupcakes.

Why I will never, ever meet Amy in a dark alley...

2011-04-26T21:35:00.002-05:00

My co-worker Amy and I were talking today. She was telling me all about how Match.com worked for her and her boyfriend, they've been together five years, and so on and so forth.

Then she asks me what I would do if my parents set up a profile for me on Match.com. I inform her that my parents would never do that to me. She retorts that Diane Keaton did it to her daughter in some movie I can't remember the name of but Ashley you need to see it because you'd think it was really funny and I think it would be hilarious if your mom and dad did that to you.

I reassure her that they wouldn't. Mostly because they know I'd be pretty upset if they did. I'd maybe consider not talking to them. Or maybe not. Whatever.

She then informs me that she is going to set up a profile for me on Match.com to see if I get matched with anyone. I then tell her that there is no way I would be going on any date she set up for me...

"What makes you think you'd have the option?"

Well, I am in control of my own body and if I don't want to go on a blind date, I won't go, thankyouverymuch.

This is where I am apparently in the wrong...

Amy proceeds to tell me that she is going to duct tape my hands and mouth shut to get me to go on the date. This, however, does not satisfy her craving for torturing me. She is also, she says, going to push me out of a moving vehicle toward the restaurant.

This progresses between the three of us to this status:

Amy is going to chloroform me to get me to cooperate, and also to be able to duct tape my hands and gag me.

She is then going to push me out of a moving vehicle (something I think she'd make up a date just to be able to do).

I am going to lay on the sidewalk with a bloody face, but since my knees should be fine, the date should be able to un-tape my mouth and face-fuck my unconscious mouth.

The people I work with might just be as demented and twisted, if not sometimes more so, than I am. I'm pretty frightened. And if I wake up after being chloroformed, I firmly resolve to bite ANYTHING in my mouth when I come to. Hard. Guys on Match.com: consider yourselves forewarned. Don't say I didn't tell you so when you have to explain why the head of your penis is in my stomach to the ER doctors...

Hours like whoa.

2011-04-17T09:30:00.002-05:00

So as I'm sure all of you kittens might have guessed by now, I've been working like crazy. I always appreciated the time Sam put in, but they say you can't really understand until you walk in another person's moccasins.

My very first day, our newest and most expensive machine broke. It shut down the busiest part of the lab. Then another machine broke the next day. Then another on Friday. By that point, all I could do was laugh to keep from crying. I logged 64 hours last week trying to play catch up, and the next day the store would open and pretty much wipe out all the progress I'd made. Fun, fun.

My district manager came to do some training this week, and with his help we finally got caught up... But I've pretty much been working like a madwoman. 69 hours this week.

Anyone who says I'm not working hard can kiss my lily white Wisconsinite ass.

Sadly, I think I must have gone crazy, because I'm still enjoying it. I've never been in a management position before, and I hope I'm doing it justice. I have a serious issue with letting people down, and I'm now in a spot where if I mess up it doesn't affect only me.

But on the same token, I'm thrilled because I'm doing something I can be proud of. I'm working hard and being rewarded and recognized for it. My parents are proud of me, and their approval is like a nice wine; delicious, and going straight to my head. :)

Today I'm going grocery shopping, hoping to make some homemade salsa... It sounds delicious.

Speaking of delicious, I made the most fantastic thing ever known to man last weekend... Chocolate Bacon cupcakes. Chocolate and bacon = massive win.

I know this is a short entry, but I'm just not sure what else to say... So, um, yeah.

Running interference, except not really.

2011-04-03T17:18:00.004-05:00

So last night I went to a drag show at a local gay bar. Drag shows are pretty much full of win and awesome... No one judges you for singing along and dancing like a fucking retard on pixie sticks (both of which I love to do).

I met a few co-workers there and hung out with them all night. After a while it was just myself and another female co-worker standing and watching, shouting things into each other's ears over the beat of Lady Gaga and so on. She walked up to the bar to get another beer, and a kinda geeky looking guy comes up to me and this is the conversation that followed:

Guy: "Hey, I was just wondering. This is an awkward question, but you and your friend, is she your 'friend' and you're here 'together' or are you just friends?"

Me: "No, we're just friends, we're not together."

Guy: "Oh, ok. I was just wondering because I wanted to ask her if I could buy her a drink and I wasn't sure because this is a gay bar. I'm not gay, I'm just here for him- " *gestures to a chick who is obviously a guy wearing nothing but a wig and makeup and street clothes* "- but I wanted to know before I asked her."

Me: "Nope, she's not gay, she's straight."

Guy: "Okay, good. Well, here goes. The worst she can say is no, right?"

Me: "Exactly." *smiles*

I watch guy walk up to her and I see them talking. He walks over to me and says, "At least I tried!"

She comes back after getting her beer and says, "So this guy just asked if he could buy me a drink and I said no. I almost said yes, but then I was like, no."

Me: "I know, he came over and asked if we were 'together' or just friends. I probably should have told him you have a boyfriend."

Yeah, I'm that wingman. :)

Also, I GOT PROMOTED TO LAB MANAGER YESTERDAY MORNING!!!

I'm incredibly excited, which I'm sure will wear off eventually, but for now I'm basking in it. I was going to be doing the job for a while anyhow, so may as well get the title and pay bump, right? And that's what I told the manager that we were phone conferenced with who offered me the position. By the time I train someone else in, I'd be ready to just do the job myself. :) He said I'm not going to have as much time for baking and that it will be a shame. He's totally right, but it will be worth it.

So I have a 90 day probationary period where I'm considered 'Lab Manager in training', with bi-weekly training goals I'll need to meet, as well as some training in a few weeks with a guy on the expansion team. And we're getting more techs in the lab so I don't get overworked like poor Sam did.

Speaking of Sam, he had forgotten his CDs in the lab when he left on Friday and I thought I'd be nice and put them in my purse and bring them to the drag show since he was supposed to be there. He didn't show. After the show I decided to run to Walmart and pick up a few things I needed for baking cookies and Chocolate Bacon Cupcakes (wipe up the drool, kittens). As I walk in the door, I set off the fucking theft alarm. Guess what the culprit was?

The goddamn CDs. *facepalm*

I am so freaking cool.

2011-04-01T23:29:00.002-05:00

Okay, as I'm padding back and forth down the hallway to check on the washer in the communal laundry room, I realize something.

My neighbors have to think I'm the coolest girl ever.

Seriously, who else is anally checking on their laundry at 11 pm on a Friday night? This girl, that's who.

Was today really April Fools Day? It felt more like Friday the fucking 13th. Today was Sam's last day, and due to a 'situation' of sorts, he ended up leaving very early today. Which, hi? Sucked.

Combine losing a good work friend with riding the cotton pony, and you have a very emotional, uterus-inclined, crazy fucking patchwork blanket of hormones blanketing my psyche. Jesus. Honestly, I cried today. Like, a lot. Like, couldn't talk about him leaving without crying. The worst part is I have NO idea why I'm so emotional about the whole damn thing. Sad I could understand. This emotional level has a big pink vagina all over it.

He and I went through a lot together at work and there were a few very stressful times it was just him and I working together in the lab. I guess I felt bonded or some other sentimental bullshit. Or it could be that he's the only person in that building I could really be myself with... With everyone else I have to watch everything I say and do, and even when I said something over the top he never seemed to care.

He made work fun. I'm going to miss that.

Now I get to take over his managerial duties. Let the fucking fun begin. The next few months are going to be really, really interesting. Guess I've gotta put on the big girl panties (don't worry, I'll wear a pantyliner so I don't get uterus all over them) and just deal.

Also, I hate when I want to eat and I'm not hungry. For a few reasons, actually. For one, nothing ever seems to sound good. Like, even if I were at a restaurant I have no clue what I'd order (besides a big fucking drink). And B, it's all unhealthy or some bullshit.

And on another note, I tried edamame the other day and holy hell is that delicious. Who knew legumes could be tasty?

Right now I'm stressed and upset, and I want to eat. Except I'm not hungry. Our boss bought us Dairy Queen (I got an Oreo blizzard, if any of you really care), so the pint of Ben and Jerry's in my freezer is totally unappetizing to me. Chocolate doesn't sound good. Tried having a few pieces of Laffy Taffy, and that's not working for me. Two strawberries and I gave up on those.

Christ, no wonder I'm not hungry, I've eaten a lot today. (Cause I also got an order of teriyaki boneless wings for lunch)(shut up, I was craving fried food and after the day I'd been having I deserved it)

In the words of Fairy Godmother from Shrek 2, "Someone bring me something deep fried and smothered in chocolate."

Ha, I said that to a coworker and she gave me a questioning look. I informed her I was riding the cotton pony and she just blurts out, "too much information!" hehe. Then she told me the state fair isn't for a couple more months, so I'd have to wait. Grr.

I'm going to attempt Chocolate Bacon Cupcakes on Sunday as a gift for Sam for helping me move last month. I hope they turn out well and that he likes them. I'll have to catch you all up on the food porn you've been missing, too! At least now I have some blog post ideas for when my stupid formerly bleach blonde brain is too fried to think of anything coherent beyond, "It's 5:00 somewhere, right?"

Blood red fingernails are such a confidence booster.

2011-03-31T13:18:00.002-05:00

Okay, am I the only person that watches DWTS that is wondering what the fuck was going through their minds when they selected the music numbers for the couples to dance to? Are they making some crazy attempt to draw in a younger crowd?

Don't get me wrong, I adored Kirstie's Cha Cha Cha to Cee Lo's 'Forget You', but some of the songs are so unsuited to the dance style. A Foxtrot to 'Cooler Than Me'? What the hell is that?

And I thought the rumors were exaggerated; what the fuck is up with Brooke Burke? She seriously does look like a damned robot. The personality chip joke is getting a little overdone, but holds true. Sometimes the old ones are the best. Where is Samantha? Tell her to stop incubating crotch monkeys and come back to the show! She and Tom had wonderful chemistry; Brooke and Tom, not so much. Or, hell, just give the damn show to Tom! He's larger than life anyhow, and entertaining as fuck.

Erflet will probably kill me for telling this story one day (or, if I raise him right, be laughing his ass off at it), but I have to. It's one of those parenting moments that makes you realize just how resourceful one can become at 5:30 in the morning.

Yesterday at Erf's dad's, he apparently had an accident and pooped his pants. I didn't get details, just a tied up plastic bag of shit-covered clothes. This morning around 4:30 I hear the bathroom light turn on and a few minutes later I hear Erflet crying and saying, "Mama, I went potty in my pants!"

I figure no big deal, he just didn't make it to the potty in time. I go in to evaluate the damage and he tells me he pooped his pants. Oookay. No, he didn't really poop his pants.

He sharted them. For those of you unfamiliar with this term, it's when you fart and end up crapping instead. Shit + fart = shart.

So I clean up my son's shart-covered butt, get him into clean underwear, and ask him if he thought he was farting but pooped instead.

I get the cry-speak hybrid response, "ye-e-e-es..."

I tell him if he feels like he's going to fart again to come sit on the potty, just in case. We clamber back to bed and all seems to be fine. Until 5:30 when I hear the cry-speak, "Moooom, I pooped my pants again!" from the bathroom. Bloody hell.

Yep, another shart. I clean him up and am fumbling with what to do... I'm running out of clean underwear as Erf and I split up all his clothes after the move. I don't want to have to change him again if I can avoid it. So I made what I hope was a good decision, albeit unnecessary.

I lined my son's underwear with a panty liner.

What? Stop looking at your computer screen like that. Yes, I really did. I figured if he sharted again the panty liner would catch it and I could change that instead of his underwear.

Turns out it wasn't necessary as he went the rest of the night without sharting. (I love the phrase 'shart' if you can't tell) However, if the punishment of making me clean up crap wasn't enough, today he has had the NASTIEST silent but deadly farts.

I asked Erf what the fuck he ate yesterday. Pizza and cereal. I'm wondering if Erf's dad's habit of giving him regular milk is what has caused my past 12 hours to be full of shit.

Last night I got a bug up my ass to paint my nails. I'm a sparkly-loving girly girl who adores glitter and crystals and rhinestones and pretty much anything ostentatious, but I don't paint my nails on a regular basis. Actually, anything more than once every six months to a year is frequent for me. Last time I remember painting my nails was a month or so after I started working at Eyemart in May of last year. I was going to go for a nice pearly mauve (which is totally in my color wheel), but decided that in order to boost my confidence I'd go with blood red. It's actually called 'crimson creme', but blood red just sounds sassier.

Plus I'm going to a drag show Saturday night and I thought matching red lips and nails, paired with my dark hair, would look stunning. Not like I've really got anyone to impress at a gay bar, but one does want to look her best, yes?

As a result, I feel sassy and sexy and confident. I love how much something as simple as bold nail polish or lipstick can change your attitude. We girls are complex creatures.

Do you ever sit next to that annoying person?

2011-03-27T21:19:00.004-05:00

So, my plans for today were pretty much uneventful. I got up around 9, made Erflet breakfast, made myself breakfast, sat down and watched Scooby Doo 2 with Erflet. Around noon, I took a shower and piled Erflet and my sister Katie into the car to drive to my grandparents' house to print off copies of our tax return for Erf's FAFSA... Then I brought Katie home and hung with my parents for a while.

My mom bought Dragon Age for PS3, and I watched her play that for a little while. It was hilarious; they kept saying something about 'beware the taint'. We are all thirteen year old boys in the sense that saying something like 'taint' will make us all laugh. Then they said it again and again. It was fabulous.

Last night I dyed my sister's hair blonde... After I put Erflet to bed, she started changing into PJs. I asked if she had a tank top with her to wear while I put the dye in, she said no. So I grabbed an old tie dye shirt of mine and told her to wear it. The conversation was as follows:

Katie: "Isn't this the shirt that I made for you?"

Me: "Yeah, but I only wear it as a pajama shirt. It's not like I wear it in public or anything."

K: *in a semi-rueful tone* "Mom and Dad wear theirs in public all the time..."

M: "Yeah, well, Dad used to wear zebra striped Zubas in public. I rest my case."

K: "Good point."

I'm talking with my parents about this today and my dad pipes up and asks, "What's wrong with Zubas? They're comfortable."

I replied that if he actually asked that question, he's too old to know the answer. :)

After hanging out with my parents, Erflet and I went to walk around the mall. My feet were equipped with these. While insanely adorable, the straps began to cut into my big toe right by the nail. That's a very fucking sensitive spot, mind you... So when Erflet asked to go to Barnes and Noble to play with their Thomas the Train table, I enthusiastically agreed. Please, yes, let's rest mama's weary, sore, adorably-suited feet. But on my way over, I stopped to grab Tucker Max's new book, Assholes Finish First. Sadly, B&N was all out of it as far as I could see (and let's face facts, my feet were anxious to sit down as it felt like my toes were about to be cut off), so I grabbed I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell and followed Erflet to the kid's section.

We walk over to the train table to find the two chairs were already taken. Fine. I'm a classy girl; I plopped my ass right onto the floor. I had Tucker Max and Caribou Coffee, what the fuck did I care? After a while I noticed the people occupying the chairs had left. Wow, shows how observant I am. I got to my feet and gingerly walked over and proceeded to plop my ass into a chair and resume my reading.

Erflet is happily playing with the trains, and another kid comes up and begins playing. He gave Erflet a train he wanted and Erflet, being a polite child (ha, yeah... That was a good one), said 'thank you'. The guy with said kid then starts yammering on about how it's so great that my son says thank you and yada yada yada. I look up from my book and make the polite response of, 'thank you very much' and resume reading.

Guy apparently thinks that because he's complimented my child-rearing skills and we're sitting next to each other, I want to talk. Pretty sure having my nose buried in a book with a guy holding a beer on the cover means I don't want to motherfucking talk to your ass. Really.

Then his wife/girlfriend/whatever comes over and takes the seat from him. She also feels that I want to talk. She asks me if the book I'm reading is good. I reply that it is, and it's a comedy. Nose dives back into the book. She walks over and looks at some books on the wall. During that time Erf calls me, and I had forgotten to turn my phone to vibrate. So loud and clear everyone in the kid's section hears Peter Griffin singing, "I like pancakes, I like pancakes, they make me a happy Peter. I am happy, I am happy, la la la la la..."

Yes, that's really what I have set as Erf's ringtone.

I talk to him and hang up. Chick walks over and asks me where I got my ringtone. I told her I downloaded a soundboard that allows you to save sounds as ringtones. She then pulls out her IPhone and reads off a list of her ringtones. Dude, really? Do I really want to hear some random strangers ringtone list? Seriously?

No. I WANT TO READ TUCKER MAX NOW LEAVE ME ALONE.

Was she done? Of course not. She then decides I want to hear all about how hard it is to train her son to say his 'pleases' and 'thank yous'. "He doesn't like to say it and we asked him why and he said it embarrasses him." Maybe it's because he has a set of idiot parents who clearly don't know how to read social cues.

Happily the phone call from Erf meant he was home and that Erflet and I could head over to his place so I got him packed up and left.

I trust that you kittens are not the type of people to strike up conversations with people who are reading a book. Unless you're telling me my hair is on fire or there's something wrong with my kid, I will fucking donkey punch you.

Or I'll blog about you. Cause, you know, I'm a huge pussy who has never seriously hit anyone in her life.

Growing up a little...

2011-03-24T21:11:00.003-05:00

Change. That's what growing up is all about, isn't it? You change. For better, for worse, to adapt...

The bitch about change is that you rarely choose to do it. Life and situations will force it upon you before you realize it's happened.

My childhood made me grow up and become (emotionally, anyway) older, faster than I should have had to become. I keep finding myself in situations that make me grow up.

Yeah, yeah, that's life and quit my whiny bitching and blah blah blah.

My point (and I do have one) is that this is what I found myself on the outcoming end of this summer. Growing up. Being a changed person. Before I realized it was happening, it happened. And it was a big one. I realized that I was a different person. And I struggled with it. I didn't want to be a different person. Particularly because the person I became didn't love her husband as a husband anymore. I hated myself for this change.

I hated myself because I was hurting Erf. Things got really difficult between us. There was no intimacy because I lost all my libido. There were talks that basically consisted of me sitting there while Erf talked for (literally) hours. Seriously. Four hours is a long time to barely be able to get a word in edgewise.

And I thought about it. This new person was my constant companion. And I began to see things through her eyes. I began to see that everything was a constant struggle. And recently I've realized that it was because we were acting like kids playing house. It's a hard truth, but that's what it was. We had a child together, and we all deserved better.

He deserved someone who could love him completely. I can no longer do that, and I can't explain just why. I tried so hard to make myself believe otherwise. Perhaps I took the coward's way out, because I didn't want to try therapy. My reasons are because A) we couldn't afford it and B) I don't see how anyone can make me fall back in love with someone when, frankly, I didn't want to anymore. I realized that we were very different people. I love him as a friend, and I want him to be happy, but I wanted to be happy too.

That feeling of wanting to be happy? Felt like the most selfish thing I could feel.

Things were so strained. And they still are. There are so many things I want to say, that I wish I could say. Things that only my closest family and friends have heard. But in the wise words of Aunt Becky, "Sometimes, those words remained unwritten because they cut too close to home; because sometimes words, feelings, pain, reactions cannot be explained away by logic. The kind of criticism it would open up would pour salt into an already-festering wound. Others remained unwritten because I didn’t want to cause drama or pain."

To cause him more pain would be horrible. I can't cause him any more pain than necessary.

But I wonder how much of his pain I need to take. His hatred toward me, his lashing out - because of me. Where do you find that balance? When you hurt someone as deeply as I know I hurt him, you need to expect to be the proverbial punching bag for a while. But when do you get to stop it?

My wondering, I think, stems from the fact that I'm done simply reacting to whatever is thrown at me. The cheesy alliteration I'd insert here would be some dramatic comparison to being an actor on stage, waiting for my cues. But I have realized that I have totally been out of it, not paying attention to what goes on around me. I've been keeping myself out of it. And I'm trying not to anymore. I'm trying to be proactive instead of waiting until things can't go any longer without being dealt with.

And for the first time, I'm being as independent as I can handle. I'm asking for help when I need it from people I can trust, because I'm not a dumb enough former blonde to think I can do it all by myself. Particularly when I've got Erflet part time. But I'm doing things that are making me feel proud of myself for the first time in a very long time. The last time I remember feeling this pride was when I realized that I was a good mother... Because I worried so much that I wouldn't be.

Now I have my first apartment, I'm fixing things, I'm assembling furniture... I'm the owner of a coffee maker for the first time in my life! These little things are bringing me so much joy, because I can be self-sufficient.

I can handle this. I've got it. I really can do this, and I believe in myself. :)

Holy hell, it's been over six months.

2011-03-23T22:00:00.004-05:00

To the three of you who might still be following my blog, thank you. To any newcomers, my record is spotty, but I plan on updating at least once a week from now on.

So much has happened, my little kittens. So. Much. Shall I give you the CliffsNotes version? I'm going to pretend you're all sitting there in vapid admiration agreeing with every word I say, so here goes.

Last you all heard Erf and I had just moved into our new place in Duluth. Since then we've moved again... Into separate apartments. Back in October, I told him I wanted a divorce. I will explain, but that is a whole 'nuther post for a different day when my brain can handle writing about it.

We lived together until early this month (which, AWKWARD), and I got a one bedroom place in Superior while he and his friend got an apartment together in Duluth.

While this is bad news bears for multiple reasons, I can't help but be ridiculously excited for my very first apartment all on my own. It feels weird sometimes and I've been finding things to do to keep me out of the apartment when I don't have Erflet with me, but I'm getting more and more comfortable with it each day. I'm very slowly beginning the unpacking process (even though I've been here three weeks)(for real, I've had a crap ton of shit to do with wrapping things up from the old place and am just finding real free time), which is nice and annoying all at once.

I do hate not having Erflet with me every day, and it doesn't help if I'm doing something and lose track of the time that Erf texts me that Erflet was crying because I didn't call him to say goodnight. At the same time, I feel horribly guilty because I do enjoy the breaks I get. I shouldn't be enjoying this, but I've never had this much time away from him. Seriously, before now I'd never spent more than two nights away from him since he was born. He's now 5. I guess for now it's a novelty I'm sure I'll outgrow.

Work has been crazy insane and is looking to increase by a fucking buttload. Our doctor came on full time this summer, and since then we've been burdened with more jobs than we have staff or equipment to handle most days. Sam has put in his notice as he's sailing into bluer waters, and I'm very happy for him because if anyone knows how hard he works and how much time he puts in - it's me. However, this leaves my proverbial sperm sack in a vice because I'm the only one there who knows how to come close to doing his job until they find and train a replacement. And that means I'll be open to close six days a week after he's gone until they find a new manager.

I'm crazy thankful for the security and the overtime (which they hate authorizing, but is totes necessary in this case), but this means that my day off every week - which is my only solo day to spend with Erflet - is gone after next Thursday until further notice. Plus on top of trying to keep our heads above water jobwise, I get to train on paperwork and such with Sam before he leaves so someone can get it done.

Enough bitching.

I got to be a bridesmaid for the first time in my BFF's wedding this past October! For any of you good kittens who have read my not-really-recent-but-still-most-recent posts, the bridal shower cake was a total hit. It was a deliciously moist coconut cake with almond filling and vanilla buttercream frosting done in ivory and lavender. Anywho, it was an insanely beautiful wedding, she was absolutely stunning. And the reception was so much fun! She moved down to Arizona with her new husband, and is doing fabulous down there. :) As she so eloquently phrases it, 'the desert agrees with her'.

I went from light brown to bleach blonde to black hair. One of these days I'm going to go fucking bald, and I'll have no one to blame but an empty box of hair dye... Next up is red. :)

The whole unintentional weight loss has been going fairly well... I dropped from a size 22/24 to a size 18/20. And the fact that I'm in a second floor apartment sure as hell isn't going to hurt. I've been learning my lesson not to go crazy when grocery shopping; my building is also a secure building - so I need at least one hand free to unlock the downstairs door. I also don't spend half of what I used to on groceries... It's been nice.

Except I keep finding stupid things I need to buy, like a dry erase board to remind myself of all the crap I need to do that I keep forgetting to do but people keep getting pissed at me for forgetting to do them and so I bought myself the board so people can stop yelling at me. And I bought a new showerhead (because I overzealously broke my old one trying to install it), and I've named it Gerard because it has two heads... One is removable and the other is stationary. Which means I don't have to go cold when I use the handheld to... um... shave my legs. Yeah. And a dish drain. And I have to buy some sort of shelving thingamajig, because I have a lot of shit and a really small fucking kitchen.

Not too sure what else there is to say for now, but I have internet at this place so you can bet your sweet little asses I'll be updating way more often.

I leave you with something I thought at work today that sounds incredibly dirty and really isn't:

"Sometimes it's really annoying when the box is soaking wet."

There is nothing that sucks more than feeling useless.

2010-07-31T22:33:00.005-05:00

Especially when you're a parent who feels useless.

You kittens might be wondering what I'm feeling useless about...

After the last few nights (and a few nights a week during the past month) of Erflet waking up screaming, shaking, and inconsolable - I did what any parent would do. I Bing'd it.

Night terrors, that is.

Like the good mother of a newborn I was, I read the What To Expect books. The pregnancy one, the first year one, and the toddler years one. Back when I had time to read a book and it wasn't a few pages here and there while I was on the commode.

By the way, Erflet thinks it's hilarious to come into the bathroom while I'm laying a deuce and mock me by saying, "Can't I poop in peace?" He's his mother's son.

Anywho, there was a mention of night terrors - to which I paid ZERO attention, obviously. Mommy fail. Some part of my post-partum frazzled baby spitup coated brain must have stored it, though, because I remembered what they were called long enough to type it into the browser.

Kidshealth.org describes night terrors thus:

"Night terrors typically occur about 2 or 3 hours after a child falls asleep, when sleep transitions from the deepest stage of non-REM sleep to lighter REM sleep, a stage where dreams occur. Usually this transition is a smooth one. But rarely, a child becomes agitated and frightened - and that fear reaction is a night terror.

During a night terror, a child might suddenly sit upright in bed and shout out or scream in distress. The child's breathing and heartbeat may be faster, he or she might sweat, thrash around, and act upset and scared. After a few minutes, or sometimes longer, a child simply calms down and returns to sleep."

Holy balls, have these bastards been watching in my windows? This has been happening for the last month (also, yay for mommy guilt, because these began occurring around the same time we moved and so now I feel responsible)(fuck. me.) at least a few times a week and has happened the last three nights in a row.

And there's nothing I can do - he has to 'outgrow' them. My little sister apparently got to the point of running out of the house and punching and kicking people during her night terrors. Great. And, a child has an 80% higher chance of experiencing night terrors if a family member has had them!

On a brighter note, Erf, Erflet and I are going to go hiking again tomorrow. Between working on my feet, not eating as much as I used to, and hiking/walking/swimming, I'm beginning to lose some weight. I say that as I sit here eating half a pint of Ben and Jerry's Mud Pie ice cream.

You know what would be awesome? If I were a size 14 again. I was at my ideal weight when I was a size 14, because I'M SIX FUCKING FEET TALL. Yes, I am tall enough to enter America's Top Model, but I will never do that because I would be so tempted to bring in baked goods and get the skinny stick figures with poufy lips all fat and then I'd get kicked out of ATM and I'd laugh and tell my grandchildren the epic story someday.

Also, then I could wear those adorable jeans I've been holding onto for the last 6 years because my big lard ass can't fit into them anymore but I don't want to get rid of them in the hopes that I'll fit into them again someday.

You have those jeans too, don't lie.

It's cheese, it's cake, it's orgasm in a springform.

2010-07-30T21:37:00.001-05:00

Let me begin by saying that I never, ever used to like cheesecake.

I know, get your gasps of shock out now.

I think it's because the only cheesecakes I had eaten were either dry as hell (NOT what you want from a cheesecake) or from a box. As a child, the majority of the food I ate came from a box - contributing to my utterly disgusting picky-ness when it comes to food, I'm sure - or it was burned to a crisp. I still can't stand eating chicken that is juicy, because I grew up with dry and overdone chicken. I finally just began eating my steak medium to medium-well, but I'll be fucked by a spork if I can force myself to choke down properly cooked chicken.

Ohai, tangent.

Then I learned to make cheesecake. I'm still mastering the small stuff, but I've been told (by multiple people) that my cheesecakes rival desserts you find in high-end restaurants. By that I mean restaurants rated by stars, not Applebee's or TGIFriday's. Well, I've been told that a lot of my desserts are better than the *cough*pre-cooked/frozen*cough* desserts you find in fine restaurants.

I now consider my own horn tooted.

Here's photographic evidence. :)

I took a photo of the crust/ladyfingers of my tiramisu cheesecake that I made for a local charity auction, but forgot to take a photo of the finished product. Derp.

A.) Ladyfingers are incredibly delicious, and I heart them. B.) Doesn't it look pretty!?

Speaking of pretty, what could be more beautiful than a marriage of chocolate and Irish Cream whiskey? Especially when it's drizzled with bittersweet chocolate... I give you Chocolate Irish Cream cheesecake:

Well, I can't actually give one to you, kittens. If I could, I would! I swear, if any of you come visit me, I'll make you a fabulous dessert! (If that isn't incentive to buy a plane ticket/take a road trip, I don't know what is!)

One of my personal favorites is Cafe Au Lait Cheesecake. Chocolate crust, a layer of mocha filling, and a layer of vanilla filling. Who could ask for more?

This last one isn't a cheesecake, and I fucked up the crust (I converted a pie crust, lmao), but it's my first attempt at a fruit tart...

Blueberry/Strawberry tart with lemon cream cheese filling:

Don't those berries look mouth-wateringly delicious brushed with melted grape jelly? Oooh, shiny!

So, I work in a lab. A lot of our machines produce a fuck-ton of heat. As a result, we worship at the altar of Air Conditioning. The A/C decided to punk out on us sometime between Tuesday night and Wednesday morning. Bitch. Anywho, the lab has been running around 90-100 degrees and the fucking part we need has to be shipped from fucking JAPAN. So we're stuck in the crazy nasty heat for the next week or two. Blech.

I am also getting excited as I have a fun baking project coming up! My BFF's bridal shower is coming up near the end of August, and she asked me to do her shower cake! It's going to be a coconut cake with vanilla filling (possibly vanilla/coconut filling) and vanilla buttercream frosting. I get carte blanche on how it's decorated, what shape, etc. Except she said no lovey-dovey crap. Which is cool, I've been wanting to do a simplistic, modern cake anyhow. It'll be my first attempt at a tiered cake, as well.

Erflet enjoys listening to the radio at night, and likes listening to the local Top 40 station. I just put him to bed, and 'What's Your Fantasy?' by Ludacris was playing when I turned it on.

I am so Mother Of The Year. :)

Food porn and a new template!

2010-07-28T22:36:00.003-05:00

So many exciting things to see and salivate over!

I needed a change, kittens, so here it is! A fresh, new and sassy template for you to feast your eyes on.

And speaking of things to feast your eyes on, have I got some food porn to catch up on. Holy schneikes. Chocolate ruffle cake, brownies, and other assorted delicious confections that will make you wish you lived in my kitchen. :)

For now, we'll start with the most beautiful (not to mention challenging) dessert I've made to date. Chocolate Ruffle Cake!

It was sent to me by a gentleman who won a contest at my mom's workplace for a free cake. He wanted to try it, but didn't want to make it himself. So he asked me to make it. It's a chocolate genoise cake filled with chocolate and vanilla creme fraiche and raspberries, brushed with framboise syrup, topped with chocolate ruffles and wrapped in chocolate.

I'll pause for a moment while you go get yourself a towel.

It all starts with the chocolate genoise, of course. It's an easy cake to make, requiring only butter, vanilla extract, flour, cocoa powder, eggs and sugar. The recipe tells you to combine the eggs and sugar in a large, heat safe glass bowl and heat over DIRECT HEAT. Being the dipshit blonde I can be sometimes, I put the glass bowl directly on the burner. Did you know that Pyrex sounds like a gunshot when it explodes? Not to mention how much fun it is to clean sugar/egg mixture from underneath your stovetop. Off to WalMart to buy a new bowl. Aaaaand, take two. This time I put the bowl over a pot of boiling water, and heated the mix to the instructed temperature. Much better. After following the rest of the instructions for the genoise, I pull this pretty, dense and beautifully crumbed cake from the oven:

The most interesting part, in my opinion, was the creme fraiche. It's apparently some sort of delicacy, because you can't find it in a normal grocery store. And rumor has it that if you CAN find it, it's hella expensive. So I searched the intarwebz for a recipe and made my own creme fraiche. (Note to you all; creme fraiche needs to sit at room temperature for about three days before it's ready.) It was a delightful new experience to the tastebuds; thick, creamy, with a sour nutty flavor. Add some sugar and vanilla extract, and it's absolutely delicious once it's whipped:

Once you're ready to fill the cake (seriously, this cake took me four days from start to finish), you torte the genoise into three layers. Then you make the framboise syrup, which consists of water, sugar, and white rum. I KNOW, RIGHT?!

You take an 8" springform pan, line the bottom with parchment paper, and gently put in the bottom layer. Brush it with framboise syrup, then fill it with chocolate creme fraiche. Brush the bottom of the next layer with syrup, and ease it on top of the filling. Then, brush the top and layer with fresh raspberries. Cover the raspberries with vanilla creme fraiche, then brush the bottom of the top layer with syrup. Ease it over the filling, then brush the top with syrup. Refrigerate overnight, loosen the sides of the pan, and this is what you get:

Doesn't look like much yet, but it's gonna be gorgeous! Next, you make the wrap. All you do is spread melted chocolate over parchment paper and carefully press it into the sides. Refrigerate for a few hours until the paper peels away easily. Then top with the remaining creme fraiche and prepared chocolate ruffles, with a single pretty raspberry:

No, I wasn't naked, just in short shorts. :)

Here's what the finished project looks like:

Have you drooled all over your keyboards? I know it was tough for me not to keep a slice for myself. Unfortunately, I didn't get to try any... But they said it was amazing. :) I'm waiting for a special enough occasion to try making this for myself. Or at least to make it for someone who will save me a piece to try. :)

Who would've thought tequila and puff paint would go together?

2010-07-27T21:01:00.004-05:00

I've discovered a new talent.

Puff-painting t-shirts. No, really.

Okay, stop laughing. Yes, they still sell puff paint. No, I'm not tragically re-living my youth.

Erf got a work study job at a youth organization at a local rec center, and came home one day with a blank t-shirt that he said he wanted my help decorating. Cause I'm all ~~autistic~~ artistic like that.

He wanted something with 'flames' that looked 'really cool'. So off to the local WalMart to purchase some puff paints and tweezers (because Erflet, for the second time, absconded with my tweezers and had moved them to god knows where).

We put Erflet to bed, and I got to work. Enter some Jeff Dunham's Spark Of Insanity, because I love Peanut.

3/4 of the way through the shirt, my dad knocks at the door. He asks if I want to go and do some shots with him. Um, yeah! But... Can I finish the shirt please?

So he sat down and watched Peanut and Jose Jalapeño with us. ('A condiment?' 'I do not use them.') This is what Erf's shirt looks like:

Pretty cool, huh? I thought I did a pretty good job, if I do say so myself. So off to a local sports bar we went. Which, hi? Sweet and sour mix is not the same thing as margarita mix. But tequila is tequila... Then I made my big mistake. I told my dad I wanted to do a shot of tequila. I've never shot tequila before, unless you count the shooter of Patron - and let's face it, Patron is in a whole different class from Cuervo. My dad orders two doubles, and orders mine with 'training wheels'. I scoffed. I did a double shot of Jack Daniel's with him WITHOUT A CHASER, didn't I? I could handle tequila. He smiled, and looked at the bartender.

"Serve hers with training wheels."

So after some instruction on how to shoot tequila (apparently, there's such a thing as too much salt), I lick my hand. I apply salt. I shake off the 'too much' salt. I lick my salt-covered hand. I raise the plastic cup (yes, they served the shot in a PLASTIC FUCKING CUP. Ghetto, yo) and shoot the tequila. Midway through, I realize that tequila? Tastes like fucking vomit. Tasting anything remotely vomit-flavored usually triggers my harf-reflex.

I sucked hard on that teeny, tiny lime wedge let me tell ya.

And realized there's still a half a shot in the cup. Shit. My mouth is watering uncontrollably, and I have no clue how I'm gonna taste that again and not vomit. However, the second half-shot wasn't nearly as bad as the first. Perhaps it was the salt. Anywho, I headed home - slightly buzzed, very happy - and did some buzzed intarwebz surfing.

Erf goes to work and comes home with a handful of t-shirts and a box of various colored puff paints.

Guess who got volunteered to decorate shirts without being asked? Yeah, it wasn't Bob Ross. So I thought I'd share photos of my pretty shirts with you, kittens.

I heart this one the most, I think it's wicked.

Yes, I do heart glitter.

Obvs.

I am now going to find a plain t-shirt in my closet and make a shirt that has my blog's tagline across the chest:

"Giving Jesus his money's worth since 1985"

Should I put my blog name and URL on the back, or would that be tacky? What do you think, kittens?

Also, there will be food porn coming soon. I have lots to catch up on, so get ready for some porn-picture heavy posts!

Holy fracking sassafrass. Did I spell sassafrass correctly?

2010-07-16T21:56:00.003-05:00

So much shit has been happening, kittens. I scarcely know where to begin.

I had to chide myself this evening when I was IMing with everyone's one and only Aunt Becky, and she had no idea that I had moved.

I fucking suck as a blogger lately. I blame it on a.) an insane work schedule, b.) lack of constant and steady streaming Intarwebz and c.) me just being a lazy bitch.

So, a few weeks ago, Erf, Erflet and I packed up our shit and moved out of our three bedroom apartment in Souptown and moved into a three bedroom house in Dull-uth. The reason sucked. Because of Erf and I losing our jobs last November and my obstinately pig-headed insistence to make my old job work (when obvs, I'm NOT a high-pressure salesperson), we had gone into arrears on our rent. We did get things paid up, but alas started to fall behind again. Not by much, we were paying what we could and would usually end up current within a month. My job only pays me $8.50 an hour, and my ex-coworker - who didn't give a shit if he broke lenses, thereby affecting our breakage 'bonus' pay - really screwed Sam (the lab manager) and I out of money.

Our lease was up at the end of June, and our landlady chose not to renew it. Which, dudes? I totally understand. I would've done the same damn thing. But moving? It sucked. I especially felt terrible moving Erflet AGAIN, when we had just moved into that apartment a year prior. Luckily, he's a hardy little fella, and he loves the new house. We're house sitting for my mom's friend; her mother passed away in May and this was her house. Mom's friend has her own house, and owns this one free and clear. So she needed someone to occupy it. :)

So here we are, and our new place is literally right across the street from McDonald's. And smelling frenchiddy fries from your front yard? IS OF DE DEBBIL. I've managed to abstain thus far, but my tenuous hold on self control can only be greased by spontaneous french fries for so long.

Seriously, do they put crack in the McNuggets and fries? Am I the only one who feels that way?

We also are going to be adopting two adorable dogs; we're fostering them until the shelter's vet has an opening to get them fixed. Then the adoption will become permanent. Kittens, meet Mr. Bill:

And Miss Mya:
Bill is a huge 71 lb ball of lovable kisses and energy, and is a black lab mix... We think he might be mixed with American Staffordshire or something similar, as his ears are docked and his tail is not, as well as the shape of his head and legs. He is Erf's dog, through and through.

Mya is a 9.8 lb ball of snuggles and kisses, and is a Chihuahua mix. I always said I'd never have a fucking chihuahua, because they're all Paris Hilton-y purse dogs. But Mya must be mixed with a terrier of some sort, because she is lap-size and very healthy. And seriously, dudes? I fell in love with her immediately, and she with me. She loves snuggling with me, and sleeps behind my knees every night, and adores car rides where she's on my lap with her head resting in the crook of my elbow. She's got a beautiful brindle coat, too - except for the three white toes on her back left paw. She's quirky, like me.

So that's really about everything up til now, I'd update a little more frequently but I'm leeching Intarwebz from McD's (retribution for the french fry stench) and I don't always have connection to the internet. I'm hoping to get a USB network adapter to boost my signal reception, but the one I want is like $55... Bleh. I need to check Craigslist, note to self....

*off like a prom dress to search Craigslist*

How I got squirted on by (an obviously male) machine.

2010-05-16T16:57:00.004-05:00

So I'm sitting here going through my Reader, and I decided that I'd much rather write shit for people to read, than read shit that other people have written. I've got a couple of pretty good stories from work so far, and I thought I'd do the fabulous thing and share them with you.

Not like you have a choice about what I write. So ha. :)

My new job as a lab technician is going swimmingly. My third day on the job I was able to do a pair of glasses, from start to finish - by myself. Wahoo for me! From what everyone has told me, I seem to be smarter than your average bear. Or technician trainee. Whatever. It was kind of hilarious, because as my manager and I were talking about the other trainee, he told me had to keep reminding himself not to compare his progress to mine, because I was way ahead of where I should be.

Someone's going to have to come pop my fucking ego, because my head is too big for me to fit through the damn door. Seriously. I am awesome.

Also? Erf and Erflet are play wrestling in the living room. It is quite distracting, but in a cute, 'father-playing-with-his-son-who-may-randomly-hit-his-father-in-the-nuts' way.

So the whole process involves tracing the glasses, entering the prescription into the computer, lining up the axis, using the metal blocks and alloy machine to block the lenses, using the generator to cut in the prescription, buffing and polishing the lens, adding anti-scratch coating if necessary, blocking the lens again, cutting it to shape, adding UV protection or tint if necessary, then mounting the lens (ha, mounting) into the frames and checking to make sure the glasses are as they should be.

Well, on Thursday I was in the starting station - doing everything up to the generator. And I was trying to block a lens with the alloy machine, I broke the lever. This lever? Not an easy fucker to break. There's a huge spring that I undid or some shit, and the machine had to be taken apart to re-mount the spring. Both Sam and Lucas kept laughing and saying, "We've never seen anyone do that before." Because, apparently? It takes a lot of torque to undo that spring. I am she-woman, hear me roar!

Sam and Lucas proceeded to tease me the next few days about laying off the 'roids. :) FYI, the guys I work with (even though Lucas is a fuckstick and had quit - Saturday was his last day - before I started) are fucking AWESOME. It was mildly amusing when they each said to me, "Let us know if anything we say offends you." Because, ha! I can't recall the last time I found anything offensive. I'm a crude bitch, yo.

The other day I said to Sam, "You know, I do actually like Celine Dion. But, you know, I've got a vagina so it's cool."

The look on his face was priceless. Like he's never heard a female talk that way. Poor sheltered guy. He's in for such a shock. :)

So later that day after breaking the lever, I had left a cooling ring on the alloy machine and the alloy cooled and hardened inside the rubber nipple. (Dudes, I know. This place is full of hilarious and awesome innuendos.) I could not, for the life of me, dig out the alloy. So I did what any true blonde would fucking do. I pulled the lever in the hopes that the alloy would melt the cooled alloy. Apparently, the alloy machine was seeking revenge. It decided to squirt me with shiny, silver, 114 degree metal. Typical male, showing me who was boss by spooging on me.

Apparently even inanimate objects find my tits irresistible. Because that's where it decided to shoot it's load. Right on my chest, and down into my bra. Yeah, I know. Of course Sam and Lucas crack up laughing, and manage to spit out, "We've never seen anyone do that before!"

They say that a lot. To me, anyway.

So I had to go in the bathroom and fish alloy chips out of my tits. I came back in and said, "You know, that's the first time I've ever taken my bra off at work. It was rather awkward."

Yes, kittens! It's a POST!

2010-05-09T13:14:00.004-05:00

I know, I've been a terrible, terrible blogger. I haven't updated with regularity, and every post since I got the interwebz was strewn with hostility and a complete and utter lack of humor.

And humor was something you were used to getting from me, kittens. It was something *I* was used to getting from me. But for a while there, I lost it.

I quit my job on Thursday. It felt hella good. It felt like I was getting oral from Gerard Butler while he was offering me diamonds with one hand and chocolate with another. It was delicious, and my tummy was all full of the butterflies. That's not to say that I didn't appreciate the opportunity to learn and grow, but let's face it - when a job nearly makes your husband leave you, it's to the point where it's JUST. NOT. WORTH. IT.

I interviewed for the job on Wednesday morning, and by 3:30 Wednesday afternoon they were calling me to offer me the job... I am going to be a lab technician (doesn't that sound all fucking grown up and shit?) at an optometry place called Eyemart. I'm going to get a white lab coat to wear. One that doesn't make me hug myself all the time! I'm going to be cutting the lenses for glasses and assembling the glasses.

Most importantly, I'm going to have pretty much set hours and I'm going to have a steady paycheck. Because it sucks to have your landlady asking you when you'll be able to pay her SOMETHING towards rent. And having to tell her you didn't know because you didn't know when your next paycheck will be? It was a huge flux from when Erf and I were both in steady, full time jobs and paying our bills with money to spare. I hated it, and it was depressing. And while I know there will still be struggles ahead, I'm looking forward to the time when Erf graduates from school and is able to get a big-boy job, I'll be working full time, and we'll be able to afford a fucking date night now and then.

When I informed my boss of my intentions to terminate my employment, I thanked him for the opportunity and said that he and I both knew that it wasn't working for me. And I didn't (and still don't) feel it's fair to keep working somewhere where it's just not working. He was a good boss. But he looked at me and said, "It's hard for it to work out when you can't give it 100%." And I realized that this was the right choice. 100% means spending more time away from my family than I am willing to, it means sometimes going 3 or 4 days without seeing my son, it means being absent from my marriage... I gave it 100% once. My husband threatened to leave me, my son was having behavioral problems.

Nothing is worth that. Never again.

I like working a set schedule. I like having someone to answer to. I like knowing how much money I'm going to make. If that makes me less of a person in their eyes, than so be it. But I'm happy again for the first time in a long time. I can have tickle fights with my family without being annoyed. I have happily watched my son's behavior problems dissipate.

Yesterday was my birthday, today is Mother's Day. A weekend of celebrating getting myself back. To celebrate being able to have my family begin to reconnect.

I missed me.

Sometimes, we forget.

2010-04-27T16:01:00.006-05:00

We forget the little things.

We forget that every action we make is permanent.

We forget that no matter how much we apologize, nothing can ever take back something that hurt someone else.

We forget to tell people when they've hurt us.

We forget to enjoy the sweet baby breaths.

We forget that the laundry/dishes/TV/computer will wait for 10 minutes without irreparable harm while we sit beside our children's bedsides and stroke their hair.

We forget that making the decision to cater first to our families will most likely be the one with the best outcome for our future.

We forget to be faithful to ourselves, even if it's once in a while.

We forget sometimes to balance being faithful to ourselves with being a well-rounded, good person.

We forget to make ourselves happy, and we lose ourselves in the daily grind of trying to eke a living from this crazy, unstable society.

We forget to tell our significant others how much we love and appreciate them.

We forget that it's okay to make dinner from a cardboard box and to serve it on paper plates every once in a while.

We forget that it's important to sit down as a family and share a good meal.

We forget our family.

We forget that while it's great to speak up for yourself, sometimes what you say isn't worth the pain it might cause the person on the other end.

We forget to appreciate the opportunity to shut the fuck up.

We forget to apologize when we underestimate the opportunity to shut the fuck up.

We forget that when Da Momma ain't happy, ain't NOBODY happy.

We forget that sometimes it's okay to lose a fight or two to your children. They need to learn that at one time or another, everyone loses - even Mommy and Daddy.

We forget that it's okay to show our children that we're not perfect.

We forget that it's not always okay to do something just because someone else has done it.

We forget that it's okay to compromise, and that it doesn't always need to be our way or the highway.

We forget to speak up for something or someone when we know in our hearts that it's right.

We forget to speak up when we know in our hearts that something is wrong.

We forget that sometimes, it's our fault and no one else's.

We forget that karma has a way of coming out in the wash.

We forget to pay attention to that little warning bell in the pit of our stomach.

We forget to look at every side of a decision before making it.

We forget that it's not okay to feel this unhappy.

We forget that it's okay to want and expect more of the good things that we deserve.

We forget to give ourselves credit.

We forget that feeling this unhappy, sad, restless and frustrated should be motivation to get up and do something about it.

We forget that we are the ones in control of our own destiny.

We forget that nothing is going to just come to us, we have to go to it.

We forget that things that seem ideal and perfect in the beginning usually reveal themselves to be the complete opposite by the time all is said and done.

We forget that we should be accepted because of who we are, not in spite of it.

Sometimes, kittens, I forget. How about you?

Sugar-coated marshmallow fluffy bits of goodness. And I'm not just talking about last night...

2010-04-04T14:45:00.004-05:00

Don't you absolutely hate it when you have a topic to blog about, and then forget what it was once you're at your computer?

That elated feeling of "Oh my gosh, I actually have a really good topic to talk about!" and then the letdown of, "what the fuck was I going to blog about again?"

I've even tried reminding myself via Twitter. I remembered the topic, just not what I was going to say.

As my friend Ooh Law Law would say, "Eff it, give me Doritos."

Speaking of shout outs, I have a long overdue one... But better late than never, yes?

My best friend Dana's mom started a new blog about her new wine club called Wine Timers, where she and some close wine-loving pals get together once a month to try new wines, socialize, and just have some fun! She was kind enough to feature a post about my Chocolate Red Wine Cupcakes, because, DUH. They're chocolate cupcakes with RED WINE IN THEM AND THEY WERE DELICIOUS. So go check out Wine Timers, and perhaps it'll inspire you to begin your own wine-tasting club!

Yesterday I went over to my friend Julie's house... And together with our friend Becca, we were supposed to teach Julie how to bake pies. However, Julie is a wee bit overzealous, and decided making ten pies was a good idea. Ha, yeah. Not so much... There wasn't so much 'teaching' as 'hurrying the fuck up so we weren't baking till 10 pm' going on. We made two french apple pies, two french silk pies, two strawberry cheesecakes, a lemon meringue pie (that turned to fucking soup because the filling didn't firm up), a strawberry rhubarb pie and a banana cream pie. Yeah, I know! I'm crazy tired today, and I still have to clean the kitchen and begin doing crap for tonight's Easter dinner.

Fuck that ham shit, we're making turkey burgers. I hate anything with veins of fat, so I avoid ham. Because, obviously. I'm also making homemade macaroni and cheese (which I have been CRAVING) and corn. And possibly brownies. Because brownies rule. And I may as well stick to the whole comfort food theme. I was going to try making beingets, which are a New Orleans dessert. But they just sounded too mothercocking complicated.

And after spending 8-9 hours baking my fucking ass off yesterday, I am so not in the mood for complicated. I'll be lucky if I get off my ass and take out the trash and wash the damned dishes. Ha. But I kinda have to because my parents are coming over.

Erflet had a good Easter morning, he got two baskets... Was on a sugar high when my BFF Dana came to visit. Good thing he's cute. :) He kind of wore himself out at the grocery store running about, I think. That and the fact that he spent all day yesterday on Julie's son's trampoline. :)

Erf is going back to school tomorrow after having two weeks off for spring break. He's kind of nervous as he's got more classes this semester along with a math course. We both suck at math. He had fun at Julie's yesterday, too... He actually came out of his shell, I was so proud!

I'm going back to running shows tomorrow... Out of the marketing room, back to the real money-making.

I'm so way too tired for dishes and more cleaning. But my kitchen is nasty. So much for a day of relaxation before I get back into the grind. *headdesk*

Why I punched myself yesterday...

2010-03-31T11:30:00.003-05:00

Yesterday was a stabby sort of day... And the way today has started, it's probably going to be the same.

Yesterday I get to work and my boss bitches me out for some stupid thing I really have no control over... We verify that both husband and wife should be at the appointment. I tell them this. My manager tells them this. The associate arrives and the wife isn't home. This, of course, is my fault.

And then I think I called every douche bag in the area I was calling yesterday.

I got the "I'm going to tell you I'm not interested before you even get a chance to say anything" douche. The one who, after I say, "This is Ashley with XYZ Company, how are you doing today?" snaps at me... "I'M NOT INTERESTED IN WHATEVER YOU'RE DOING." *click*

Seriously, how difficult is it to listen to what a person has to say and tell them - POLITELY - that you appreciate their time, but you're just not interested. It's a much kinder way to tell people that. People who work in call centers usually don't get paid shit, and they have to deal with a crap ton of rude ass motherfuckers. Is it really that difficult to just be polite and tell them you're just not interested?

I also got the, "This just isn't worth my time" douche. I'm so terribly sorry, I didn't get the memo that you are GOD. Really? You don't even know where I'm from or what I'm calling about. I could be calling you to tell you that my mega-conglomerate company just took over the piddly shit insurance company you go through, and that your insurance is about to be cancelled. Not that this is what actually happens, but still. YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I HAVE TO TELL YOU. How do you know it's not worth your time?

The "I have more important things to do" douche. Closely related to the "This just isn't worth my time" douche. I actually had someone tell me yesterday that they have more important things to do and they really didn't care to hear what I had to say. Unless you're on your way to catch a plane to de-worm orphans in Somalia, perform a life-saving surgery, or doing a colon cleansing... Well, I'm sure you can catch my drift.

The "I'm going to let you get to the very end of your spiel before I tell you I'm not interested" douche. You should know halfway through my spiel if you are or are not interested. Then, see above rule and say, "I appreciate your time, but I'm just not interested. Thank you."

The "I'm going to ask 5,000 questions about each and every gift you offer me and THEN tell you I'm not interested" douche. I seriously had one lady ask me about 10 different questions regarding what types of toilet paper our grocery coupon booklet offers. No joke. I get that you have a sensitive septic system, but really? You really need 50 cents to $1 off of your oh-so-precious toilet paper? BIG DEAL. PAY THE EXTRA 50 CENTS.

Also, I'm dealing with something right now that is making me even stabbier than usual... So I'm thinking it's in my best personal interest to just leave the public word-vomit portal before I spew something really bad... Because it could unleash a shit storm that I just do NOT have the energy to deal with.

Anyone out there willing to lend me their blog to spew forth an anonymous post of vitriol?

Stupid free Interwebz...

2010-03-29T10:12:00.003-05:00

I have a confession... (Ha, I typed foncession instead of confession at first. Perhaps today's a lysdexic day...)

I leech free interwebz. There happens to be an open network connection that's usually around 54-68% signal strength, and I'm too poor to pay the $50-60 per month that decent internet costs one in this hellhole of a stupid ass town.

The bad part of all this is that I have no idea when I will and will not have Interwebz. I think the streak so far is a week with the 'Webz not working. It keeps giving me this "Cannot associate with Access Point" error. And I know to fix it you're supposed to press some button on the modem. But what the fuck can I do when I have no idea who I'm even leeching from?!

Coincidentally, the interwebz always seem to be connected at THE MOST INCONVENIENT TIMES. Like an hour before I should be going to bed, or when I have errands to run instead of the time to lounge around and surf the 'Webz.

But mothercocking ass monkeys, I paid $140 for a wireless network card and a RAM upgrade. Interwebz need to be cheaper.

Ace Of Base's 'Don't Turn Around' just came on Media Player.

I tried scallops for the first time last night at my parents' house... We had steak and scallops, salad, veggies, potatoes, and then amaretto cake for dessert! It was a shit-ton of food, and it was all delicious. Is there anything happier than steak with drawn butter?

Maybe eating stale Peeps for breakfast. Pink bunny Peeps. Ooooh yeeeeeeah.

Oh yeah, give me some of that Funky Cold Medina.

2010-03-18T10:01:00.002-05:00

So, I happen to live in a city that used to be able to tout the fact that it had the highest bars per capita in the United States.

Yeah.

Is it really any wonder how we got our nickname, Souptown? No, not really. It's a tradition here in Superior when one turns 21 to do the bar crawl down the main drag - Tower Avenue. You want bars? We've got bars. Of all shapes, sizes and types. And we've got bars in every part of town. We've got Lost In The 50's, a bar for those who want to get lost in time. The Anchor Bar for those who want a biker bar that, frankly, makes some of the best greasy burgers in town (you know, for when you've got a hangover from drinking there the night before). The Lamplighter for those who want skanky strippers, Frankie's for those who like to sing karaoke with the coke-sniffing owner, The Main for the light-in-the-loafers crowd... Plus about 10-12 others I haven't named.

No joke. I searched for "Bar" in Superior WI, and Google Maps came back with 198 results. For a town that has around 27,000 people. Yeah, we wean toddlers on whiskey here.

Anywho, one of the most well-known bars in Superior was the Cove Cabaret. Every bar that's been in that building has closed after a short stint. Kind of like Jordan Sparks' career.

And the Cove was described a 'sleazy club' with a light-up dance floor (think Saturday Night Fever), disco ball, and Wet T-Shirt Wednesdays. There are local archived photos of couples cutting a rug on the light-up dance floor under the bright, sparkling light of the disco ball in the 1970's. Also, my mom used to participate in Wet T-Shirt Wednesdays. Is it good or bad that I'm proud of that?

Wednesday night was Ladies Night, and ladies could drink free from 11-midnight. Thursday featured $1 Imports and Wine Coolers. Classy.

Another thing (besides Wet T-Shirt Wednesday)(because DUH. Obviously) the Cove was locally famous for was Jim's All Star 101 Shooter Menu. I'm sure many a vomit-soaked floor had this shooter menu to thank.

My dad worked at the Cove, and has an original copy of the list. Let me tell you; after retyping these shots so that they're legible, if you couldn't find something you liked on this list - you were just fucked. You know, unless you're a recovering alcoholic. In that case, I'm sure you would've taken the crappiest shot on the list and loved it like Pam loved Tommy's wang.

You could order any All Star Shooter for $2.50, or a Six-Shooter for $10.

So today, kittens, I'd like to share a few of the most delicious-sounding - and some of the oddest sounding - shots on the list.

Give me a Funky Cold Medina...

Kahlua, Root Beer Schnapps and Bailey's round out this delicious sounding, albeit oddly named shot.

I'd love to have a Menage a Trois...

Kahlua, Frangelico and Grand Marnier. What's not to love about this threesome?

What shot do zombies like best? The Brain!

Strawberry Schnapps, Bailey's and Grenadine. Mmm, Bwainz!

Oh, Christmas Tree, oh Christmas Tree...

Grenadine, Green Creme de Menthe and Creme de Cacao. Mint, chocolate and cherry? Sounds like a festive shot to me!

Chocolate Monk? Sounds kinky!

Kahlua, Bailey's and Frangelico.

Some of the more oddly named shots include:

Camel's Hump

Kahlua, Apricot Brandy and Grand Marnier

Alabama Aggle Slammer

Sloe Gin, Southern Comfort, Amaretto and Orange Juice

Ardvark (Dudes, that's how it's spelled on the menu - I know it's misspelled)

Kahlua, Curacao and Cream

Umbilical Cord

Anisette, Tequila, Bailey's and Drop of Cream

Mishkalishka

Cognac, Coffee and Whip Cream

Red Rooster

Chocolate Mint Schnapps, Bailey's and Grand Marnier

Test Tube Baby

Amaretto, Tequila and Drop of Cream

Ollman

Kahlua, Grand Marnier and Courvoisier.

Of course, for the traditionalists you'll find shots like; B-52, Stiletto, Mudslide, Asshole, Orgasm, Cocaine, Slippery Nipple, Blowjob and Kamikaze.

What does it say about our society that we like to take shots of things that are called Asshole and Test Tube Baby?

THAT WE'RE AWESOME.

Oh, and that if I ever go out and do shots, I'm doing the Pink Pussy shot. Because, duh. Obvi.

Whoever thought of putting wine in cupcakes was a genius.

2010-03-16T11:45:00.003-05:00

Yes, I'm talking to you Rachel Ray. Or whoever you paid to make that recipe up.

I was doing some research for a wedding dessert buffet, and I came across this recipe for Chocolate Red Wine Cupcakes with Marscapone Icing. I mean honestly, what part about that doesn't sound delicious?! Chocolate? Red wine? Marscapone?! Yes, please. It'd be like saying no to sex. In a cupcake liner.

So I stocked up on my ingredients. Unfortunately, I forgot that the grocery store I was at doesn't carry marscapone - so I subbed cream cheese instead. Because I know from experience that unless it's in a cheesecake, marscapone and cream cheese are pretty much interchangeable.

Also? I am now in serious love with cream cheese icing. I didn't even have to sift the powdered sugar and it came out as smooth as Pamela Anderson's 7th boob job.

Alright, on to the Food Porn!

So, 4 oz of chopped chocolate, 1/2 cup of unsweetened cocoa powder and 1/2 cup boiling water mix to create this delicious, glossy, dark chocolate-filled bowl of delight.

I poured the red wine first to let it breathe. I used Yellowtail Shiraz Cabernet, because it was the only red I had in the house. I wasn't about to buy a bottle of red to get 1/2 a cup (I'm not a red wine person, I prefer white), but next time I think I'll buy those little itty-bitty bottles that come in a 4-pack.

Chocolate red wine batter, all ready to be divided and baked! Seriously, the batter of this recipe tasted like eating hot chocolate mix with a spoon. Mmm!

Cupcakes, post-bake!

There was a lot more frosting than I had expected, but the more the merrier!

Those grapes kind of looked silly, so I decided to top my little pretty cupcakes with grated chocolate. Next time I think it would be super cute to make little chocolate wine glasses to put on top...

I'm reading through my archives and I've realized something... Besides the fact that Erf just farted.

I've lost a bit of my snark, wouldn't you agree? I need to get on top of my game with this. Off to work in a half an hour. Bah.

I smell like cleaning product...

2010-03-12T09:59:00.003-06:00

Last night as I lay in bed with visions of Gerard Butler racing through my mind like cracked out ghetto babies, I decided I need to write him a love letter. Because I could really see myself spawning his crib midgets. I'm pretty sure Erf would forgive me.

My dearest Gerry (because I've heard you prefer to be called that - I've stalked you on IMDb and Wikipedia),

Let me start off by saying that until The Phantom Of The Opera, I had never really heard of you. Then one day I decided, on a whim, to rent the film. And in the scene where the Phantom brings Christine down the hidden passageway - I was spellbound. Those eyes, the set of mouth. And then, oh dear sweet drenched panties, there was that VOICE. The voice that made my heart beat faster, my breath hitch, and my sex clench (Ha, I've always wanted to use that phrase).

And that was it. I was hooked on you. Like young, naive kid after his first shot of heroin.

Then you did P.S. I Love You. For the love of all that's holy, that movie should come with super-absorbent undergarments for the ladies. Because really? I needed a new couch after that one.

This may sound a bit unusual, but I think I much prefer you in Law Abiding Citizen. I have a thing for dark, intelligent psychopaths. And the scenes where you were explaining step-by-step what exactly you were planning for Darby? Sent shivers down into my girly bits.

You're a brilliant actor, but from the descriptions you sound as if you're just as wonderful in person. And I could totally see us living a beautiful life together, singing Phantom Of The Opera songs (even though you've got a MUCH better voice than I do, you'll love my singing because you'll be so devoted to me that I won't be able to do any wrong)(Because, duh, I'm so awesome that who DOESN'T love me once they meet me?). By the way, my son absolutely loves Phantom Of The Opera, and can you imagine how thrilled he'd be to have the Phantom as his daddy?

GERRY, WON'T YOU THINK OF THE CHILDREN?!!!1??

Furthermore, I can bake the shit out of stuff. So come over for dinner, and I'll make bridie and burnt cream.

And we can further discuss when exactly I'll be moving in with you as your sex toy and the other half of your love's duet. I breathlessly anticipate you teaching me how to properly pronounce your first name in that sexy Scottish accent. I'll even wear paisley socks. Haha, get it? Because you grew up in Paisley, Scotland?

Because Gerry, you're gonna love me. Don't worry about my husband, it'll be okay. He's totally aware of how insanely attracted I am to you.

Love,

The future Mrs. Butler

Grab your drool napkins, kittens...

2010-03-11T09:28:00.006-06:00

As promised, more food porn! I had some catching up to do, that's for sure!

So let's start off with some delicious, red... goo? No, that's homemade strawberry puree glaze! Sugar, cornstarch, and strawberry puree!

This stuff is the shit - it tastes like a liquid strawberry fruit rollup. And who the fuck doesn't like fruit rollups? I think you're a Nazi if you hate fruit rollups.

Ok, maybe I don't *really* think you're a Nazi. But shame on you if you hate on the rollups.

Bee-youtiful strawberries, sans caps, drying on paper towels. Aren't they pretty? So plump and juicy and... Yum. I'm hungry now.

Finally, the finished product! Strawberry pie... Almond crust with strawberries and glaze.

My co-worker, who ordered the pie, said his wife had a piece or two, and he ate the rest of the pie all in one sitting. And he said it was the best pie he's ever tasted.

My boss ordered two pumpkin pies, and here was the delivery... Raw pumpkin pie filling is amazingly delicious, by the way. My boss also said that these were some of the best pies he's ever eaten... They must know that the way to my heart is through my ego. ;)

For Thanksgiving this year, I made French Apple pie, 8th Deadly Sin pie, and Lemon Meringue. The Lemon Meringue looks beautiful fresh out of the oven, doesn't it? I SO need to make another one...

This was a rather interesting frosting to make. They wanted a chocolate cake, but with orange frosting. So I used fresh-squeezed OJ instead of milk in my buttercream recipe, and added freshly grated orange peel. The result at first was a bit mild, so I added more peel. And then more again. And then I noticed (after I left it the hell alone) that the flavor was getting stronger. Hrm. They said that the balance of orange and chocolate was just perfect, though.

Yep, another cheesecake! This time, it was Chocolate Irish Cream cheesecake!

Chocolate, Bailey's, cream cheese? It looked delish, I wish I could have tried it. From what I heard it was really good. :)

I've also found a delicious looking recipe for Chocolate Red Wine cupcakes... It calls for marscapone frosting, and it sounds absolutely delicious. I also just found a chocolate orange cupcake recipe with Limoncello frosting. I need to learn how to make Romano's Macaroni Grill's Ultimate Leaning Bellini... Gotta do something with the leftover Limoncello! ;)

Sex on your screen...

2010-03-09T21:47:00.005-06:00

No, I'm not talking about skanky-Barbie-humping-ugly-guy porn. You dirty hussies.

(Shh, I look at porn too. It's okay - healthy, even!)

I'm referring to Food Porn. Yes, it deserves capitalization. You haven't had Food Porn in, well, just way too damn long, kittens!

Because I'm a dumbass and forgot to take any other photos of it, here's a pic of my very first attempt at cheesecake. Orange Delight Cheesecake. It's a delicious lightly flavored orange filling, chocolate crust, and topped with a chocolate drizzle.

It was as delicious as it looks. ;) The photo above was of my mom's second piece.

My determination for making this cheesecake is unmatched; I saw Tiramisu Cheesecake, and I just had to make it. So here we see my chocolate crust (made of crushed chocolate Teddy Grahams, because you can't fucking find chocolate graham crackers anymore).

Now, the recipe touts that marscapone cheese is supposed to make this cheesecake extra-rich. Well, it called for 8 oz marscapone, and 16 oz regular cream cheese. I like things very, very rich. So 24 oz of marscapone it was. The recipe also called for ladyfingers, but I forgot to make them and couldn't find them at the grocery store. So I used vanilla pound cake instead. It worked out, meh, so/so.

I will be the first to tell you this - MARSCAPONE TAKES FOREVER TO BAKE. Don't be stupid and use all marscapone. It doesn't work that well. But, being the diligent baker I am, I just lowered the temp to 200 degrees and let it bake. It did come out with a lovely golden brown crust on top of the filling, though. Silver linings and unicorn farts, people.

Et voila! Tiramisu cheesecake. Filling comprised of marscapone, sugar, egg, vanilla, and coffee-laced rum. Then you top it with sour cream while it's hot (it adds to the flavor, I swear). It called for a dusting of unsweetened cocoa powder, but I said fuck that and grated semi-sweet chocolate over it all. Much prettier. :)

Springform pans are WIN. I cannot imagine making cheesecake sans springform. The crust was a bit overdone, but next time I'll be smart enough to down it back to the called-for amount of marscapone and I'll make homemade ladyfingers.

It was still orgasmically delicious. ;)

Dream about that tonight, kittens. I'm off to help Erf figure out his FaceSpace... lmao.

Shit, am I ever awesome.

2010-03-09T16:26:00.004-06:00

I had a one-week follow up doctor appointment today. Besides staring at the doctor's huge, Chiclet-like teeth, I modeled for some photos.

Alright, alright. They were x-rays.

Are you happy? You've dashed my dreams of modeling. HA. Yeah, right. I've never wanted to be a model. As a kid, I dreamt of being a singer. Then I realized that people rarely make it as a singer without a lot of hard work. And me, not so much about the hard work.

Tangent.

So Dr. Chiclet came back in and pulled up my x-rays on the computer. I should have known something was up when he pointed the screen in my direction. He didn't do that last week.

"We've made a new discovery." He announced.

Like he's Christopher Columbus and I'm the New fucking World. Yeah, ok.

"See this right here? It's a posterior tibia fracture. (I could have the verbiage wrong) That means that you did actually break your ankle."

Is it sad that my first thought was, "Cool! A broken ankle sounds way more badass than a sprained ankle!"?

Cause seriously, when you tell people you sprained your ankle, they think it's like a two-day heal or something. But when you say you broke something... There's respect. Like when I told my boss yesterday I wanted to play my first day back at work by ear, see how my leg felt after the first show... He rolled his eyes and said, "Really? Seriously." Like it doesn't still hurt. People don't get how much a sprain hurts. I didn't, until now.

But when I called to inform him that I broke it, there was respect in his voice. Like, "Oh, wow. This really is serious" respect. Luckily he's a great boss, and he's letting me move to the marketing room so I can be on the phone scheduling appointments and elevating my leg.

Also, I just realized that this is my First. Broken. Bone. EVER.

I need to celebrate tonight! Hahaha, I'm sofa king wee tot tid.

Does this x-ray make my ankle look fat?

FYI, the break is right below the little hand. Paint Shop Pro won't let me add a circle or an arrow or anything really, and MS Paint keeps freezing. So this'll have to do.

And no, my lovelies, I haven't forgotten my promise of food porn. But interwebz crashed the other day and we just got them back, so I need to upload the photos of the Tiramisu Cheesecake. :)

I think I might be a wee bit OCD...

2010-03-03T13:57:00.002-06:00

My name is Ashley, and I am a compulsive Chex Mix separate-er. I cannot simply grab a bag of Chex Mix and imbibe. No.

I must first eat all the pretzels I can. Then come the breadsticks. After that, the rye chips. Which, really, aren't that bad. It's sort of my reward for choking down the awful pretzels and breadsticks. Then I separate the seasoning-drenched Chex from the barely-seasoned Chex. I totally save the best for last.

If I were a kajillionare, I would totally buy Chex Mix in bulk from Sam's Club or Costco - or fuck, maybe from General Mills themselves. Cut out the middleman cost. Then, I'd pay ten or so people like, $20/hr to sort the Chex from the rest of the mix.

Because when you're stupid rich, you can do stupid shit like paying people to separate your Chex. Kind of like in the movie Willy Wonka And The Chocolate Factory - the old version with Gene Wilder, because Johnny Depp's Michael Jackson-esque nose freaks me the FUCK out - Where Veruca Salt's father buys up Wonka Bars by the box and has his peanut-shelling factory workers shelling chocolate bars.

It would make me undeniably happy. As long as they wear gloves and stuff. Cause, you know. I'm not a germaphobe, but hand-washing is good.

I'm going to attempt my first shower today. Yes, I'm yucky and unshowered. But I just got a removable support yesterday, gimme a break. I don't like to take showers sitting down, and I'm pretty sure I can balance myself long enough to get clean.

But seriously, around 2 am this morning I thought that because lightly walking on my sprained ankle didn't hurt, it would be a good idea to actually do it. This morning, my ankle laughed at me and told me, albeit physically rather than verbally, that walking on it right now is NOT in my best interest. I'm anxious and impatient to be able to walk on my feet and ditch those stupid mothercocking crutches. Having a sprained ankle would be a picnic if not for those damned crutches.

Also? I slept in until 10 am this morning. And it felt GLORIOUS.

Tomorrow, I think, calls for Food Porn. What do you think, kittens? I have a wee bit of food porn to catch up on. ;)

They call me... Grace.

2010-03-02T12:41:00.003-06:00

I really am grace personified, aren't I?

The answer to that is, "Yes. I am."

I got to go see an orthopedic specialist today, as my fibula ankle bone wasn't where it was supposed to be. All due to my most recent episode of being Grace Personified.

Yep, I'm that girl. The one who loses fights (frequently) to inanimate objects (such as the ice that whupped my ass on Sunday), and is constantly giggled at by friends and family for her klutziness. It's all good, I've got a Chris Farley-esque attitude about it all. I'll usually do whatever it takes to get people to laugh. If they're not laughing with you, they're laughing at you. And I'm okay with both of those things. :)

PLEASE JUST LAUGH, KITTENS. That's all I ask. It doesn't hurt. Usually.

I didn't do this to make anyone laugh. But I ended up finding the humor in it all anyhow.

Isn't it beautiful? You can even see where that mothercocking splint was biting into my foot on the outside. Fucking splint. At least it's not the size of a baseball anymore!

Here you can see pretty much exactly how I landed. When I say I flipped my foot out perpendicular and did a zombie foot-esque pose, I mean it.

The good news is that they took off the stupid splint (OH! Sweet, sweet relief!), and equipped me with my beautiful new Bledsoe boot. I know, right? You all want one. You know you do.

My ankle bones are back in place (wahoo!) and there wasn't any damage to the tibia or fibula as there can be in some situations. I can begin slowly bearing weight on my foot (which is... good. Or so they tell me) and should be able to walk on it in a few days or so.

Wierd Al Yankovic's "The Night Santa Went Crazy" just came on Media Player. It's delightfully demented and hilarious.

Erf is determined to meet for lunch today - he's craving ribs from a local restaurant called C's. Their ribs are pretty mothercocking good, if only I could get over the gag reflex of the fat on the ribs. Stupid gag reflex.

Grey's Anatomy, Private Practice, and Castle are all new this coming up week. This gives me a serious case of the happy. Castle's episode title this week is "The Mistress Always Spanks Twice". Castle and Beckett in the underground world of sexual domination? I can only imagine what Nathan Fillion will be able to do with this script - he's just too damned hilarious. Even if he doesn't follow me back on Twitter. Sad Panda.

Dudes. THE CHICKEN DANCE POLKA! *Clap clap clap clap*

I'm aliiiiive... I'm aliiiiiiiiiiiiiive!!!!!

2010-03-01T09:44:00.004-06:00

So, after $140 on a router and a new stick of RAM, my computer is finally internet capable!

The good news is that I'm going to have a shit-ton of time to blog, kittens.

The bad news is that it's because I sprained my ankle.

Yep, yours truly - who is the most graceful person on earth (/sarcasm) - slipped on the ice and fucked her ankle up royally. I sprained my left ankle, and it went out from me to the left, perpendicular to my leg, as my body weight came crunching down on the right side of my ankle. I felt and heard that little bastard crunch.

More good news? There are no breaks. I still have to see an orthopedic specialist tomorrow, because the ankle bone on the fibula side is separated a bit from where it should be.

I did dun gud. Wanna see my gorgeous, unshaven, swollen ankle? Too bad, you're going to anyway. :)

Isn't it beautiful?

Anywho, I am now the mother of a 4 year old. Erflet turned four earlier last month, and I'm still in disbelief. We had a great time, took him up to the mall, had Pretzelmaker for dinner, played with trains at Barnes and Noble, and got him a double chocolate Godiva cupcake for a treat. :)

Ugh, this damn splint feels like it's cutting into the outside of my foot. At least Erf is being a good nurse... He insisted last night that I be a good patient, no being stubborn about trying to do things by myself. Letting myself be pampered and having every whim attended to is more difficult than I thought it would be... I just don't want to overdo it and then have him tired out when I really need him. I seriously couldn't ask for a better husband.

Poor Erflet was freaked out, though. My mom screamed up the stairs to my dad, "Come quick, Ashley fell!" Erflet was in tears by the time my dad and Erf got me inside. He wouldn't come near me for about a half an hour, and asked me, "Mama, are you going to be alive tomorrow?" I felt so bad for him. My sister, Katie, came to put Erflet to bed while Erf took me to the ER, and she said he had a really tough time falling asleep. He didn't want to go to daycare this morning, either.

But seeing me on crutches is apparently a sight and a half. I've never sprained or broken anything before now, so crutches are a totally foreign concept to me.

I've got some updates and downloads to do, so I'll blog again later or perhaps tomorrow! Yay! :)

Whoa, I'm not dead! Who knew?

2010-01-10T11:55:00.004-06:00

So, my job has given me some very awesomely interesting stories.

Sadly, my phone's internet is being douchey and keeps telling me I need to cancel just this one thing and then I can update. I kid you not, I had an update that took me an hour to type on my tiny, gummy keys, and I lost the whole mothercocking thing because of some stupid thing on Blogger's mobile updater and my phone's clipboard not being large enough to copy the whole post.

See how much I missed you, kittens? MY UPDATE WAS TOO LARGE FOR MY CLIPBOARD TO HANDLE.

Or it could have been that I had like 5 bazjillion photos on there that needed to be synched and deleted.

So, holy shit. My new job is blogging motherfucking gold. I have SO many interesting stories I could tell you kittens, and for now I'll bullet them. Why?

Because I have to go grocery shopping for ingredients for Pollo Fundido, that's why. Why can't I stay and type them all out and THEN go shopping?

Because, hopefully, my BFF will be coming over to visit!

** #1 most entertaining: The fat guy who farted and picked his nose in front of us, and had porn in his bedroom. And asked me if I was 'into clients'.

** The older, lonely guy who told my co-worker and I that he wanted us to spend the night any time we were down in the area, and he said he'd feed us and 'leave us alone', and we'd be 'perfectly safe'. Oh, yeah. And he wanted to give us each full-body massages. At least he fed us venison jerky and sent us home with canned venison. eye roll

** The guy who made ionic purifiers for a living and kicked us out because we told him ozone is bad for you. Ironically, his wife actually liked the Defender.

** The nice lady whose boyfriend came home drunk and was pissed that I was still at the house... She politely packed everything up and helped me carry it out to my car because she 'didn't want me to have to make two trips'.

Seriously, this job is hilarious and provides me with entertainment almost every day.

Other updates as of late:

Erf is now going to school to be a medical assistant. I'm so insanely proud of him for this, he's been wanting to go back to school for some time now. I've had tons of fun helping him study his medical terms, and I can't look at the word 'rrhea' without collapsing into a fit of giggles.

I'm also looking forward to slowly learning how to decode the medical speak on Grey's Anatomy and Private Practice. I used to be proud of knowing what an appendectomy was. I'll show them.

Erflet is getting tall and sassy. The other day he was begging me to watch Cars... "Mama, can I watch Cars on the big teebee?" Over. And over. And over again. I, being the ultimate smartass, replied, "How about I gouge my eyes out with a sewing needle?"

He replies, "How about after?"

That's my boy. :)

I heart me some Castle...

2009-11-17T14:59:00.004-06:00

I'm sitting and watching Castle with my mom... Job-searching for Erf....

The best quote from Season 1:

Beckett: "What is it with guys and boobs?"

Castle: "It's biological."

Beckett: "Doesn't' it bother you that they're obviously not real?"

Castle: "Santa's not real, but I still enjoy opening his presents."

Also, my new ring arrived today! My momma was nice enough to buy me a new wedding ring as a partial Christmas gift - because my old ring was beginning to tarnish on the inside.

To which I introduce you all to my new, sparkly friend:

It is so much bigger than I'm used to; my old wedding ring was an eternity band with maybe 1mm stones in a channel setting. The central stone on this ring is 7mm. I know, holy crap hugeungeous stone!

It's going to take some getting used to, but I'm prepared to take the time.

It's sparkly, I'm a girl, do the math.

I'm excited/nervous for my job interview and my job training tomorrow. It's that happy excited feeling, and I really hope that this all works out. I'd love to be able to have the internet at home.

Cause having to drive 15 minutes to sit in a chilly basement (even if hanging out with my poor bed-rest-ridden mama is totally worth it) kind of sucks. Plus, in Duluth we have The Hills. Not Heidi and Spencer Hills, but huge gas-sucking, brake-killing hills.

Hills that Evil Kneivel wouldn't brave post-blizzard in a vehicle.

I'm glad that I live in Superior, because Superior is pretty Hill-less.

Off to head home and watch Star Trek and My Sister's Keeper.

Holy motherfuck. I'm watching Katt Williams.

2009-11-14T00:12:00.002-06:00

Dude is like a little black Chris Kattan. He's spastic and 4 feet tall.

Not to mention WHO-LARIOUS.

By the way, I'm super excited that my parents know Chris Mancini. Well, they don't KNOW him know him, but they've heard of him. But he once commented on my blog.

How did this come about? Because I told my parents that I was friends with Dane Cook on Facebook. Along with 12,000 other fucking people.

And then my dad told me I needed to do something to make myself stand out.

Because apparently, the dream that I had where he and I had some mad awesome chemistry and he asked me on a date? He doesn't remember being in that dream. Bastard. He never called after that either.

So to prove my Awesomeness (TM), I told him about Chris Mancini commenting on my blog. And to my delight, they've seen him on TV before!

I just moved up a spot in life. *smile*

Speaking of Movin' On Up...

(To the east si-i-de...) (Ok, enough with the Jeffersons references)

I have a job!!! I start my training next Wednesday. I don't feel like describing it, but it should be good money. And as a backup, I've also got an interview for two other positions before I start training on Wednesday.

The bad news is that Erf is done at the fast food restaurant of Douchebaggery. He was supposed to have through Black Friday,

(Nov. 26 for those of you morons who don't know what the fuck Black Friday is)(You suck if you didn't know that Black Friday is the day after Thanskgiving, btw)

but they told him that business isn't good enough for them to keep it so they made him run 6 fucking boxes of shit from one store up to the other and THEN fucking told him that they didn't need him anymore.

Bastards.

I just watched Katt Williams pretend to throw a bowling ball... Hrm.

This motherfucker just came on asking for a "What?"

Got one for ya, right here. Whaaat?

Also, I think I'd like to have sex with Danica Patrick.

Alright, let's give this mother a shot!

2009-11-12T13:52:00.000-06:00

So, first, please pardon me if this post is short. I'm trying to do updates on my mobile, and I can only stand typing on my QWERTY keyboard so long damn it!

I had a job interview last night, and I really think that job would be a good fit for me. I call back at 3:00 today to see if I got it.

I also talked with a guy from the place my mom works at, and they want to interview me for two positions. No, it's not missionary and doggy-style. But they want to interview me on the days that they're doing orientation for the other job (if I get it)... Sigh.

I'll still interview with them - just in case. I may have huge tits, but I'm not dumb! I'll keep all of you updated on what happens after I talk to them later! :)

Sooo... Blogs are going to be diminishing for a while...

2009-11-10T18:31:00.002-06:00

I got fired yesterday.

It was my fault, I will totally own up to that.

My boss pulled me into the office five minutes before closing, and told me that he was terminating me - effective immediately.

Because all I have is mobile internet on my phone - regardless of my qwerty keyboard - I'm not going to be updating unless I get access to a computer. Which won't happen often...

Which is going to suck. But I couldn't let my kittens go without me without an explanation of sorts before I disappear into the land of the internet-less. I may resort to stone wheels and foot-powered vehicular transportation to match my internet-less existence. I'll still be on Twitter, since that is easily accessed from my phone and via text message alerts.

I love you and I'll be back as soon as I can be. ;)

No I'm not dead!

2009-11-09T11:01:00.007-06:00

I'm sorry, my kittens, that I haven't written in quite some time. You see, on Wednesday my computer's network connection crashed. Thursday a guy came in to look at it, and got me reconnected. Then my computer kept crashing, and then I lost my connection again. It was a mess... However, if you're good kittens and you follow me on Twitter, you already knew all this.

Now because all of you are such good little kittens and you love my food porn, I thought that it was time to let you in on some of my super-secret baking tips... :)

I have some photos to accompany tips, but not all the tips have photos. (Ha, dirty!)

First up, tips on my favorite pie to bake; Apple Pie!

AP tip #1: Invest in an apple corer similar to this one:

It cut my apple filling prep time in 1/2, seriously.

AP tip #2: If you take my sage advice and invest in an apple corer, the easiest way to get the core out seems to be to cut it off as close as possible to the slicer and use the handle of the knife to push it out of the bottom. Using your fingers can = owies. I've sliced my thumb trying to push it through with my fingers.

AP tip #3: Invest in some disposable plastic food prep gloves. I used to spend at least 10 minutes trying to get all the sugar/cinnamon grit out from underneath my fingernails... Until I made my decision to go into 'business' and bought the gloves for sanitary reasons. And then a whole new world of grit-less fingernails opened up to me. Put on the gloves before tossing the apples and while you're adjusting the apples in the crust.

Random tip regarding limes/lemons/oranges/juice-able fruits: Invest in a microplaner similar to this one, and a juicer like the one above. I can get up to 3/4 of a cup of juice from a single lemon with one of those bad boys... And in the background, you can see how nicely the microplaner works for harvesting citrus peel for miscellaneous recipes. **Related non-baking tip** If your kids are picky and don't like eating onions in their food, use the microplaner to grate in the onion; it makes it mushy, but you get all the onion flavor without the chunks. I'm a picky eater, and we tried this last night for a new dish; it worked nicely, but it does take quite a bit of elbow grease to get a substantial amount of onion to grate.

Some cookie tips!

Balled cookie tip: For cookies like sugar cookies and peanut-butter cookies, refrigerate at least two hours before shaping and use a smaller ice-cream scoop like this one, and then shape into a ball with your hand.

Now, on to the main event! Pastry crust!

#1: Measure your ingredients accurately. Too much of any specific ingredient can cause a multitude of mishaps. Stir the flour before measuring, it helps.

#2: Cut in your shortening until it looks like this:

#3: Use ICE COLD water, and toss with a fork until it looks like this:

#4: If your dough isn't rolling right, try wrapping it tightly with Saran Wrap and refrigerating it for an hour or so.

#5: Once you have your dough rolled (be sure to keep that board floured to prevent sticking!), put the rolling pin at the top of the dough and roll back, wrapping the dough around the pin. Ease it over the pie pan to prevent tears.

#6: Pie pans... Glass and dull metal are the best. Shiny metal pie pans can cause the bottom of your crust to come out soggy. Aluminum are smaller than standard, so if you use them buy the deep dish. Ceramics, same thing. They're not always the proper size. I like Pyrex glass pie pans, they're like $4 at Walmart and work beautifully.

#7: When making a baked pie shell, line the pan with a double-layer of aluminum foil, and remove before putting in the pastry. That way you're not puncturing holes in the crust with the foil. :)

Kissing the ass of the dick that fucks you.

2009-11-03T10:14:00.003-06:00

I've had way too many posts all full of vitriol lately. Erf's work has done many things to piss me off though, in all fairness...

And up until this point, I've been fairly tolerant. I've just told Erf to stick it out, because getting him to quit seems to be the only logical explanation for all the bs they're spewing out lately. I figure that in most cases it's best to leave an employer with a good impression and no reason to give you a negative reference.

This, my kittens, is NOT one of those cases.

I've only quit without a two-week notice in one case. Ever. That was because my manager kept badgering me about my weight, and it was totally harassment. I never reported her, which I regret, but karma came and bit her ass... She was fired for drinking on the job.

Erf's district has said some shitty things to him up until this point. Which, you know, he's the district. Whatever. But what happened this morning was just over the line.

Erf got to work this morning to find the place a total mess. He's maintenance. It's his job to clean, yes, but not to clean up the shit that the crew members should be doing.

Can I just go on the record telling you all that when he was a manager if he had let his crew leave the place like that he would have gotten his ass CHEWED at the VERY least?

When he called the district to complain about the condition the place was left in (ice cream and toppings all over the counters and floor, the grill a total mess) he was told that it's his job to do their bitch work. Which means that, most likely, they won't be reprimanded for not doing THEIR jobs.

(I think I've caught a case of caps.)(Capital letters, not caps like popping a cap in someone's ass)(though I'd love to pop caps in a few choice asses right now)

It's one thing to say shitty things when you're the manager, but to allow others to shit on him like this? It's unacceptable. And it's bad business ethic.

Sadly, though, Erf needs this job until something else comes along. Anything that will pay him more than this job, really.

Except that newspaper route in the ghetto part of Duluth. Cause you could totally be killed running that route. And besides, it doesn't pay more than this job.

But when he gets a new job, I totally and completely support not giving them any notice whatsoever. I mean, fuck, he's due to be done as of Black Friday anyhow. What the fuck do they care?

Now, all I need to do is figure out a way to sneak sugar into the district's gas tank without getting caught...*

* No, I wouldn't really do that. But I'd really, really like to. I'd settle for keying his truck...

New Halloween Photos!

2009-11-02T13:29:00.002-06:00

My grandpa got them off of his camera and sent them to me...

My little ass-whupping ninja! It came with a matching blue headband, but Erflet has a gigormous melon head and it was too tight. Doesn't he look too cute?!

And a better shot of my makeup - the flash really brings out the bruising, doesn't it? It also accentuates my red-rimmed eyes. God, I'm good.

Yes, I'm wearing glo-sticks as a necklace. Don't judge.

There's something about a pair of 4 1/2" stilettos that makes a girl feel...

2009-11-02T11:06:00.005-06:00

Delicious.

It makes me want to battle the Orangutan Gene (shave my legs), put on a short skirt and a looooooong jacket.

I'm wearing my adorable Ciao Bella booties (yes, those are the ones I've got, and I got them on wicked sale for like $20 at DSW). They sound ridiculous, because I used to abhor the idea of booties. Until I tried them on. And then I realized.

Shit, they look good on me!

Plus, the inside is this soft, buttery leather. It makes my feet happy. Which, for being 6' tall WITHOUT heels and wearing 4 1/2" stilettos... It's saying a lot. I have a passion for wearing high heels. Luckily Erf (who refers to my booties as Grandma Shoes, cause they have laces), who is shorter than I am flat-footed, likes it when I wear heels.

I haven't found the courage to wear them without long pants yet, however. I still adore them anyhow.

Halloween... Let's see. Erflet was a ninja, I forgot to take pics with my phone due to the chaos at my father-in-law's house for my neice's birthday/trick-or-treating party. My grandpa got some, I'm just waiting for him to send them.

I did get photos of myself, though. Cause I sent them to Erf to get his approval.

Erflet was a ninja this year, and I went as his 'victim'.

All it took was red nail polish and eyeshadow.

Yes, I'm still smelling acetone from removing nail polish from inside my nose.

But I'll be dipped in shit and rolled in breadcrumbs if my wounds didn't look pretty fucking real, even if they weren't swollen. However, this gives you a great view of my dedication... Not only did I put NAIL POLISH on my FACE (which worked beautifully and looked way better than lipliner) but I lined my eyes with dark pink lipliner to look like I had been crying.

Except yesterday when I went to the grocery store for ingredients for turkey bacon BLTs and salad...

I realized when I got out of the car that while I sleepily removed my makeup and nail polish the night before, I still hadn't showered or really washed my face. So my pink eyeliner? Still on.

I was wearing Erf's leather motorcycle jacket (which is sort of redundant since we don't have a motorcycle)(Goddamn it, I wish we did) and had red-rimmed eyes.

I'm sure people came to one of two conclusions.

A.) I was cracked out

B.) I had been beaten by my husband.

Too bad I didn't have my full ass-kick makeup on still. :)

My friend Megan and I were chit-chatting this a.m. about my makeup. She told me that she wanted to come be my nurse. I asked her if she would leave the panties off under her outfit. She said of course. I asked her if she was going to take my temperature - with a strap on.

She laughed.

I'm such a good friend. :)

Also, I sliced my palm open on a chunk of sucker yesterday. Only me...

It hurts, someone come kiss it?

It's the witching hour. Perhaps I should buy some holy water...

2009-10-30T10:34:00.005-05:00

Okay, so technically Halloween is tomorrow. Whatever.

This year's costume is gonna be pretty cool, but I think last year's costumes were the best...

We dressed up as the Scooby Doo Gang, minus Shaggy and Velma.

Because it's Friday and I feel like keeping shit simple due to my forget-my-crotch-if-I-didn't-have-it-permanently-attached-to-my-~~hand~~body mentality, here are our costumes from last year!

Scooby Doo! Is this not the cutest costume?! It cost me like $40 on Ebay, but it was totally worth it.

Schmexy Daphne Blake - We did a sort of 'updated' version instead of the traditional Fred and Daph. Because I couldn't find a Daph dress I liked...

Erf, however, looked fantastic in stressed vintage jeans, his blue/white shirt, polo and the handmade red/orange ascot. No lie, I sewed it by hand the night before and I used my flatiron to iron it flat. Ghetto rig, FTW! Also, I love him bleach blonde.

The Scooby Gang - I thought it was a cute effect.

This year Erflet is going to be a ninja, and I'm going to be his victim. I do well with makeup effects - black eyes, split lips, cuts and bruises, here I come! Well, tomorrow anyhow. We're going to our niece's birthday party. Me dressing up as having had the shit kicked out of me at a kid's party = win, don't you agree?

Because our boss says that for Halloween I could only dress up as a receptionist. We are a law office, after all. Even if we're going out to have a long drinking lunch fairly soon. ;)

You lucky, lucky kittens.

2009-10-29T13:50:00.007-05:00

Yes, more food porn. Strawberry Chocolate cookies (I'm pretty sure I perfected my recipe, by the way) (Yes, I know you all don't really give a shit about the recipe that I invented unless you're eating it), Peanut butter chip peanut butter cookies (I love Reeses for making both peanut butter and peanut butter chips), and miniature apple pies!

I also made Wanchai Ferry Spicy Garlic chicken for dinner. Look at me, all domestic-y. Shut up, enough with the June Cleaver cracks. Or I'll stuff a cleaver in your beaver crack. It's a meal in a box, sans chicken. And, because I'm so domestic-y, I made jasmine rice instead of the tiny packet of plain rice they include in the box. Cause jasmine rice is the SHIT.

I think it's really funny that you can find the directions online. Cause if I threw out the box, I'd totally go online to print off the directions instead of DIGGING THE BOX OUT OF THE GARBAGE.

Oh shut up, like you've never had to do the Dig of Shame.

Now the only digging you'll be doing is digging into your screen, hoping that it's Wonka-vision and you can reach up and grab my baked goodies.

Ooh, that sounded kinky!

So, the problem I've been having with my various strawberry cookie recipes is that the strawberries weep during baking, and inevitably soak the cookie in strawberry juices.

Haha, juices.

So, 78 paper towels later, I successfully squished the juices out of the strawberries. Not only were my cookies less liquidy, but the strawberry flavor was better incorporated throughout the batter.

See? I made milk chocolate strawberry cookies with Ghirardelli chips - Nestle can't touch Ghirardelli. When you pop these kittens in the microwave (ha, kittens in a microwave)(Just kidding, PETA, I'd never REALLY put a kitten in a microwave... At least, I'd never turn it on.) the chocolate melts and it tastes like a chocolate-dipped strawberry. Mmm, mmm!

While I was perfecting my strawberry cookies, this was chilling in my fridge. Because chilling formed cookie dough (like peanut butter or sugar cookie) helps it form better and with less mess. Peanut butter cookies made with Reeses peanut butter and Reeses peanut butter chips.

My kitchen smelled like a friggin peanut butter cup. It ruled.

Pretty peanut butter balls (ha, balls) coated in sugar, awaiting desecration by fork tine.

FYI - the chips made the flattening a wee bit more difficult than I thought...

But it worked out just fine. No worries! I wish my camera phone would've captured the sparkly sugar. They were prettyful!

Ah, chopped Granny Smith apples. Are you enjoying your coating of sugar, flour, cinnamon and nutmeg? You bet your bitch asses you're enjoying it. Especially with the secret ingredient I added!

Miniature apple pies!

Seriously, these things are just too darling!

I'm slowly turning into a baking blog, aren't I? I mean, obvi, I won't hold a candle to Bakerella for quite some time. But I'm okay with that.

Because I blog about other things besides baking. Like New Problem Monsters and wanting to beat the hell out of my husband.

Ooh! "Out Tonight" just came on Pandora! "I wanna put on a tight skirt, and flirt with a stranger."

Erf took Erflet up to his dad's again yesterday to do laundry. They both came home acting like dicks and smelling of stale cigarette smoke. Erflet was good until his cousin got home from school. He didn't listen for SHIT last night, and Erf was acting like a patience-devoid asshat. I wanted to slap them both and go to the bar. I was afraid that I'd come home to bloodshed, however.

Even Erf has finally realized that Erflet gets a bad attitude when he hangs around his cousins. It might help if the boys were a wee bit better disciplined, but I'm not their mom and it's not my responsibility to interfere with her parenting. Or lack thereof.

Don't get me wrong, I love my sister in law, she just has the family half Russian (where ya Russian to? Haha!)- half German temper. Erf has it too, and I've been slowly training him to calm down and be a wee bit more patient. Not an easy task, believe you me.

And I'm the one who has to take him to daycare the next day and explain to them why he has a bad Thursday almost EVERY WEEK.

Speaking of daycare, Erflet's daycare is being closed by the church. Stupid asshats. Luckily the other center is still open and two of the four teachers are going to move to center 1 and Caden is ready to begin there on November 9th. I'm incredibly sad because this means 1) No more living across the street from the daycare and 2) I'll have to get up half an hour earlier now every day he has daycare. Pissmonkeys. I already get little enough sleep. Fucking night-owl personality...

However, tonight is Grey's and Private Practice - and I was up baking until 1 am. No lie, check my Twitter. I foresee headpillow at 10:05 pm tonight.

And Erf has a job interview, um... Right now. I'll update if there's any news!

**Update - Erf said that they liked him and he's going to meet with some other people next week! Excellent!**

All the pleasure, none of the stickiness...

2009-10-28T10:44:00.002-05:00

So, last Friday I received my JimmyJane Afterglow Massage Oil candle from Toy With Me!

I was so excited that I just kept opening it to sniff it. Sort of like some sex-crazed, massage-loving bloodhound. Except with ~~more~~ less wrinkles.

I was slightly disappointed with one factor, however...

The bubble wrap wasn't the fun poppable kind. Except for Erf. He bunched it up and it popped. I, however, am not the caveman of the house and couldn't do it. Way to be a pussy, self.

Once I got beyond my bubblewrap disappointment, I was delighted to open the adorable box!

As you can see, we chose the Pink Lotus scent. It had a delightful floral scent; it sort of bordered as a cross between lilac and gardenia. And those are two of my favorite flowers. Lilac is my absolute favorite. Jasmine, gardenia and rose are close followers. I love the whore-scented florals. ;)

Inside the box is everything we needed to get our party started! The candle (duh!), a brush for the massage oil, and matches! And the ever so important warning that this massage oil is not for use as a lubricant. You know, like in a vagina or something. Lube your chest/back/legs/earlobes/toes/knees/elbows away, kittens!

It's very pretty to look at, with it's frosted glass container.

And the brush was nice and soft.

Now, on to the nitty-gritty!

We put Erflet to bed, and we set up a pseudobed in the living room (because I didn't want to have to wash the sheets we just put on the day before). We lit the JimmyJane candle, and pulled out some other candles for ambiance. Erf, like the girl he is, appreciated my efforts at romance.

Or it may have been that he enjoyed the blowjob.

We waited for the candle to melt out to the edges as the guide directs you to do (hence the blowjob - I had to do something to kill time). It took about 45 minutes to an hour, not the 30 minutes they say it will. That? It's my only complaint!

Then, Erf laid on his tummy (he was a spoiled boy that night, I tell ya) and got the first massage. I painted his back for a bit with the brush and then re-lit the candle so it could melt more and be warm for my massage. I gave him a good half hour massage before begging finger cramps... The oil stayed nice and slick and it made my hands super-soft. It had a lovely scent, and it wasn't too overbearing.

So I flopped down after toweling off my hands and Erf's back, and Erf went to work on me. The oil was the perfect temperature, just warm enough to feel, but not too warm. It didn't feel slimy, it had a pleasant slip to it. It did make funny squish noises, though. ;)

I thoroughly enjoyed it, and can't wait to use it again. This experience was, for us, more so about the romance and reconnection and pampering than sex.

But seriously? I can't wait to use it for sex!

Also, there will be more food porn for you all tomorrow! I'm making peanut butter cookies with peanut butter chips, milk chocolate strawberry cookies, and mini apple pies.

Excited? You bet your bitch asses you best be excited!

In which I turn to you, my readers, because I'm a please-everyone whore.

2009-10-26T14:01:00.003-05:00

Yes, I will eschew my own happiness to make everyone else happy. I have done it for quite some time and will probably continue to try and make everyone happy regardless of how many times I find myself curled in the fetal position in my shower with mascara streaks running down the drain.

I frequently do everything I can, due to some of my family members' high-maintenance personalities, to make family happy. I grew up in a fairly happy home, but nothing changed the fact that my birth mother left me when I was born - and left me feeling as if I had done something wrong.

So, from early childhood, I've felt the need for approval. To know that I'm liked. This lent itself well to my high-school years as I am a pretty likeable person who can mold her personality at a whim. It's also helped me in various jobs that most people would've found unbearable. I'm that customer service person. Yep. I'm like the real life fucking Flo from the Progressive commercials.

Except you'll never catch me in a Bumpit with bright red lipstick.

Sometimes, though, I have enough and I open my mouth. I can stand up for myself, but the people who piss me off usually have a hard time hearing the truth about themselves. And so they stop talking to me for periods of time. So you may understand why I usually keep my wide ass trap shut up tighter than Fort Knox.

And because underneath the swagger I'm still a giant pussy, I'd like to ask you for your opinions on something that developed over the weekend. I can never be sure if I've overreacted to something, so here goes...

As most of you who follow my blog know, my husband Erf recently got demoted, causing us to need to apply for assistance until he can find another full-time job. It's not something I'm proud of because I thought that this portion of our lives was behind us; but I accept that it is, for now, a necessity. And I plan on getting off of it as soon as I possibly can, because I'm not one of those deadbeat parents who lets the state pay for everything without doing their best to support themselves -

And that is not directed to those who need aid to survive; it's directed to the crackwhores who squirt out babies for welfare money -

I'm a proud person. But I'm not too proud to take help when it's needed. I pay my taxes, and you're damn straight that I've got every right to use the state aid I help pay for to help me when I need it.

However, a family friend of mine commented on my facebook status yesterday, and I - being the giant pussy I am - am wondering if there's something different you might have said/done or if you think I may have overreacted.

The only things I'm changing are the names.

My Facebook status:

Excited for steak and baked potatoes. For now, watching Erf whup some orc ass (ironically, he named his char Urukai) in Champions of Norrath. The Everquest PS2 game is pretty decent. Nice and long - which, for Erf, is good!

My family friend, who is all about the dramz, posted a comment on that status. This is our following exchange (the red is him, blue is me):

How can you afford steak and potatos when you just posted that you were applying for assistance?

You know, Dramz, that's more than a little insulting and degrading. Way to make me feel like shit about something that's out of my control.

And fyi, I bought a cheap cut at $2 per steak and marinaded it and a 5 lb bag of potatoes is like $3 - if it's any of your business. Not like I fucking bought filet mignon...

Ashley? You posted it for everyone to see and I commented. No need to get all nasty on me. You said it. NOT ME! I can barely afford a pack of hot dogs let alone a cheap ass steak. More power to you if you can get the government to pay for you to eat steak and pay for health care and day care. Our system is FUC**D!

I said that I applied for assistance - whose business is it how I purchase food? I usually eat nothing but chicken and ground turkey because it's cheaper than beef. I buy almost everything generic now.

And Erf and I are both working, so we do have some income. The government didn't pay for our steak because it hasn't given us anything yet. It's no one else's business how we spend our money but ours, but it came out of our pocket. It's not like I applied for assistance because I'm some crackwhore trying to fuck the system. I didn't enjoy doing it, and I hope to get off it as soon as I can. But Erf got demoted and got his hours docked severely - so we NEED the help. I'm doing what needs to be done to help my family. Who are you to judge me? Because you're making me sound like some worthless welfare mom who's letting the government pay for everything. I'm not. I work full time and I pay taxes, so the money I'm paying my state should help me when I need it. I make NO apologies for that.

So, what do you think? Overreaction? Or was I right to react as I did?

Also, please know that I don't routinely go around spouting off things like this - or at least, I pretend that I don't. :)

The good news is that I'm planning on reviewing my JimmyJane Massage Oil candle tomorrow! They're fabulous, and if you can get one, buy one!

And now, back to your regularly scheduled programming already in progress...

Today can lick my puckered poop chute.

2009-10-23T12:18:00.002-05:00

I'm sorry I haven't written in a few days, kittens.

Things at work have been a mite bit crazy. I got in this morning to find out that there was a huge hullabaloo regarding one of our high-priority clients. So with the attorney and the paralegal both out of the office, I had to get as much of this taken care of as possible. The one I really felt sorry for was the cab driver; it's a good thing we use him for her stuff a lot and that he knows most of what's up with her.

My candle didn't arrive yesterday, but according to Toy With Me it should be delivered today. Yay for tracking!

I also watched Napoleon Dynamite for the first time the other night.

I may get flogged for this.

What the fuck is the point of that movie? It was slow and stupid and I'm pretty sure I lost at least 14 IQ points watching it. *side head-whip* Gawd.

I was also accosted by another high-maintenance client who (Thank JEBUS) has taken her crazy ass to another attorney and wants copies of her file. She called me at 2:00 yesterday. We have a whole office with her paperwork in it. She wants it by 3:00 today.

I'm pretty sure that I'll be typing up a letter or two, dropping off said file, and going the fuck home. *yawn*

Good news; we are now on Wisconsin's healthcare... I hate that I feel so dirty about this. Perhaps it's because I thought that this chapter of our life was over. Erf had a good paying job, we didn't have medical, but making bills wasn't by the skin on our teeth.

The lake looks like muddy hot cocoa again today.

I'm pretty sure that I need to begin watching Glee.

Things are getting stressed between Erf and I again... He gets pissy when he's not providing, and while it's understandable, it's mildly annoying. At least he and Erflet are getting to be best buddies. Gives Mama a much-needed break.

Want to know what's going to be in the bath with me, caressing my petal-soft (HA) skin?

This. Or, possibly, this or this.

Yeah, you're jealous. Lush is fucking awesome.

Substances that make me gag...

2009-10-21T11:43:00.004-05:00

I brought Campbell's Chunky Steak and Potato soup for lunch today. Seriously, their steak is actually really good.

Aw, shit. I just read that label and realized that there are mushrooms in it. Fuck a duck.

I'm not a fan of mushrooms. I suppose I'll just eat around them.

I know, mushrooms are good, good for you, whatever (back down, health nuts)... But I have a very weird freaking texture aversion. It's my diagnosis (cause I'm totally a doctor), not a professional's. But there are certain textures I can't handle in my mouth without gagging.

Yogurt is not one of them. ;)

And by yogurt, I mean ~~jism~~ yogurt without chunks in it.

However, chunks of fruit in my ice cream (which I fucking HATE with the fury of 1,000 suns), mushrooms, escargot (even though I adore the taste), fat and gristle... The list goes on and on. They all make me gag-ariffic.

Erf is going up to his dad's house today. Can I even tell you how happy I am that it's raining out? Last week we had another issue with Erflet not having a close watch kept on him. For those of you too lazy to click the link I've so sweetly provided, Erf didn't keep a close eye on Erflet and he ended up almost wandering into the woods by father-in-law's house.

I wonder if I need to write in permanent ink on the inside of his glasses...

"THREE YEAR OLDS ARE NOT OLD ENOUGH TO BE OUTSIDE UNSUPERVISED."

Also, because I'm at work alone this week, and I got bored...

I was looking for a cool pic of Jessica Rabbit, and came across a blank coloring page pic of her.

So I decided to play with MS Paint. ;) I made her an auburn-haired, blue-eyed siren with a pink dress and pastel green gloves. Cause I have blue eyes and auburn hair.

And I do have pasty, pasty skin.

And I freaking love the color pink.

This is also an exciting week because last Friday, I won the comment contest on Toy With Me's Dear Redhead post!

I had to tell the story of my first sex toy experience. I'm very frank, not easily embarrassed, and all around awesome. Which, of course, makes an excellent platform for talking about my first sex toy experience.

What did I win, my lovelies? I won JimmyJane Afterglow Massage Oil Candles. She even let me pick the scent!

I picked Pink Lotus, by the way. Erf and I decided together, and ~~because Pink Lotus sounds like a vagina~~ he was sick of vanilla.

And reading Toy With Me's review on JimmyJane's candles... Well, it piqued my interest to say the least. I was incredibly excited that I had won, (because I never win anything) and she said they're schedule to arrive on Thursday, October 22nd. Tomorrow, kittens.

Grey's Anatomy and a free prize?!

Thursday fucking rules. Just like McLovin'.

And yes, of course I'll be giving you all a review once we get to try them out. I don't know if I'll get to do it Thursday night because Private Practice is on at 9, and Erf usually likes to go to bed around 10. Maybe my parents will take Erflet overnight on Friday...

Oh Moooooom!

It's Food Porn once more, Part II!

2009-10-20T10:12:00.004-05:00

So, my little loves, I've a favor to ask you before I present you with the food porn...

My beloved Aunt Becky at Mommy Wants Vodka is up for two Blogger's Choice Awards... I know that most of you already know her and follow her, but if you could be ever so kind and take 5 minutes to vote for her, I'd appreciate it... And I know she would too. I mean, she's getting her ass handed to her by Dooce. Dooce is not very funny.

Help a bitch out, and vote for her for Best Humor Blog and Hottest Mommy Blogger. And also? She promises to show us an elusive photo of herself if we vote for her!

Now, on to the food porn!

So last year, my friend Ooh Law Law came home from Florida for Christmas and she had given me a mission. She had eaten these cookies called Strawberry Shortcake cookies, and she wanted some for Christmas. :) However, all she could give me was a description of the cookie (soft, sugar-cookie-like cookie, white chocolate, and strawberries)...

So I looked at some different recipes, and I created a cookie recipe.

Chopped strawberries, cookie dough, and white chocolate chips... I took a photo prior to mixing because I thought the strawberries looked ever-so-pretty.

Kind of looks like strawberries and cream oatmeal, doesn't it? :)

Don't you want to just scoop them up and eat them raw?

But they look even more delicious after baking. I also make them with milk chocolate chips.

And when you warm those babies up in the oven and eat them warm? It's like eating a chocolate-dipped strawberry...

My friend Meghan's mom was sweet enough to make calligraphy cards so that everyone knew what each delectable dessert was called...

Her calligraphy is so pretty. She offered to teach me...

But I have a difficult time writing the same way all the time... Seriously. My handwriting changes almost every day.

COOOOKIIIIEEEEESSSS!

I told you. You read my posts on food porn, and you're getting ~~nowhere near the amount of~~ almost all the satisfaction without any of the calories!

It's Food Porn once more!

2009-10-19T14:56:00.003-05:00

So a month or so ago, my friend Meghan had the brilliant idea to have a chocolate party. She had tried something chocolate that I had made, and realized that it would be fun to get a bunch of ladies together for a chocolate sample party!

Then she decided to go simply crazy! She had a Mary Kay party co-mingled with the chocolate. Cause chocolate? Great selling tactic. Even if you're not going to buy anything, you're getting free chocolate!

So she placed her order: a French Silk pie, an 8th Deadly Sin pie, a Double Chocolate Orange Torte, and Strawberry Shortcake Cookies. The 8th Deadly and Strawberry Shortcake recipes are ones that I created myself; the cookies I made especially for Ooh Law Law. :)

We met at a local Mexican restaurant and planned; and I remembered the cute mini tart pans I bought a few months ago. The idea for the mini-pie was hatched. Cookies are self-serve no matter what, and the torte would just be cut up prior to serving.

I'll have to split this into two posts, as I'm sure 16 photos are a bit much for one post. :)

Chocolate crust for the 8th Deadly Sin - too cute!

They're just sitting there, waiting for the cinnamon french silk, ganache and whipped cream...

Ah, there we go! Being a smart cookie (some would just call me a smartass, but whatevs), I piped different designs on each kind of pie so we could tell them apart. Stars seemed to work well for my 8th Deadly pies...

But I went with a shell/swirl combination for my French Silk.

Here are all my pretty ladies. Wouldn't they be perfect for something like a baby shower?!

Next up on my list; Double Chocolate Orange torte. A chocolate orange cake (made with fresh-squeezed orange juice and orange zest), filled with orange marmalade, drenched in a luscious chocolate ganache frosting, and garnished with hand-piped chocolate and a fanned strawberry.

Because Meghan was calling it a Chocolate Decadence party, I piped that out for the garnish.

(This is the side that says, 'Chocolate', by the way...)

And 'Decadence'.

Tomorrow, Strawberry Shortcake Cookies and the pretty place cards Meghan's mom created for the goodies...

To my sweet, wonderful, tolerant husband...

2009-10-15T11:43:00.004-05:00

I'm going to get sort of sappy again. Because sometimes you lose yourself in the child and forget the man who helped you get one. And I don't ever want anyone to doubt that I love my husband very, very much.

I would like, if I may, to take you on a strange journey...

Fittingly enough, we're going to fly back to Halloween 2000. I had recently moved in with my parents (I grew up with my grandparents), and I was having a tough time with things. My then-boyfriend had a 'thing' for Britney, so I dressed up as Britney for Halloween. 'Baby One More Time' Britney. No, I don't have photos, but suffice to say I was hot in my plaid skirt, knee-high socks and heeled loafers. The braided pigtails were really hot, too.

That was the first time he saw me. It was a rough day, and I was a bit down. He told me later that he had the urge to come up to me and give me a big hug, but he was afraid I'd freak out a bit. Considering that we'd never met, he was probably right. :) He would see me every once in a while walking through the halls of the school. Then after the new school year began in 2001, he didn't see me once. He thought that perhaps I had moved.

Cue the second semester of school, 2002. My very first class of the year was Weight Training. We basically got to fuck around with the gym equipment all hour. Easy A class. Then, we saw each other. He was amazed to see me again, and I was stunned by the feeling I got the first time I saw him. I knew then that he was someone special, and I was right. The semester creeped by with him too shy to talk to me, and me trying vivaciously to get him to talk to me.

Junior year prom was rolling around, and I didn't have a date. I was going to take our landlord (Hey, he was a hot firefighter with a Harley. And better yet, he was willing to go with me.), and my heart dropped every time Erf described the night he had planned for his then-girlfriend for prom. Then, O! miracle of miracles! They broke up! I flew in there, regaling him with my woes of not having a real date for prom... Just a hot firefighter pity-date. :)

Then, he looked at me with his face blazing red and said, "Why don't we go together?"

Within a day, we were officially dating.

Things were bliss for quite some time, going on dates, talking every night on the phone... One of his favorite stories involves me trying on stripper heels, falling down, and knocking over a table full of shoes. In late April/early May of 2003 my Grandma fell ill. Her kidneys began failing, and her congestive heart failure was causing her heart to give out. We had been living with her for almost a year, and we had hospice nurses coming in to help with her care. It was basically just keeping her morphine dripping and waiting. Erf was the best boyfriend a girl could have asked for. He worked at a local construction outlet store loading/unloading trucks during the early (5 a.m.) shift, then worked at a local nursing home as dietary aide. When he was finished with work around 2:30-3:00, he'd come over to our house and do whatever we needed. Cooking, cleaning, helping with grandma's care, and just being there. Even when I wasn't home.

May 4th, 2003, my grandma passed away. Erf spent most of his free time with us, helping to do whatever we needed him to do. Shortly thereafter, things at his house became strained with his sister moving in, and Mom allowed him to move in since I had turned 18 on the 8th. (yep, 4 days after my grandma died. Good timing, huh?) In June of 2003, his mom died suddenly of a massive heart attack. I did what any good girlfriend would do, I spent time with his family alongside him, doing what I could. Soon after, things conspired and he ended up moving back in with his dad unwillingly. I followed within a month.

That began the first stressful period of our relationship; he shut down after his mom died. I persisted, because I'm a tough bird to shake, and not long after we got an apartment of our own he began to come around. Then we moved to Fargo. Another tough period of time for us. I tried to reconcile with my birth mother, and it didn't go so well. I was reeling from the rebuff, he was upset being so far away from home. Then Erflet pronounced his impending arrival. Not long after, our commission jobs failed us and we lost our apartment. We moved in with my grandparents before unceremoniously getting the boot in the form of my grandma paying the deposit and first month's rent for an apartment for us - even though I had to quit my job due to heavy weight lifting.

Stomach cramps during pregnancy - especially when lugging a 70 lb box - are never good.

So we were stuck in an apartment, me jobless, and Erf not working due to the lack of appointments in December. Erflet arrived, and things got worse. We fought all the time, I was a crazy bitch who was overly-protective of our son, he resented me for not giving him a chance.

The lack of sex couldn't have helped at all, though.

One day it seemed to snap us both; we needed to work this out. And slowly, we did. We put the effort and hard work into it, and we pushed through. We rekindled our love, and one night while talking decided it was time to finally make an honest woman out of him. ;)

On April 10, 2009 (Dude, we so got married on Good Friday. Getting married on the day Jesus was crucified = WIN), I became Mrs. Erf. And regardless of the hard times we're going through right now, we know that we can push through it together.

Baby, here's to us, 70 years from now, yelling at one another in utter deaf bliss. I'll love you even when you crap your pants and sprout hair long enough to be braided from your nose.

I even promise to dig on you when your glasses could double as a microscope.

I love you. :)

Yes, he is biting my shoulder. We're kinky like that.

Short post today

2009-10-14T12:08:00.002-05:00

I'm not going to post a long blog today like I usually do. I'm feeling stabby, and my eyes hurt.

Why do my eyes hurt? Because I think I may need glasses. I don't wear them now, but I can feel the strain when I'm looking at the computer screen. I'm struggling to differentiate the words sometimes, especially when people don't use freaking paragraph breaks.

The bad news is that with Erf's recent demotion and our lack of Comfortable Income, I can't go up to the walk-in eye clinic and then take my prescription next door to Eye Mart and get new glasses in an hour. Cause I don't need stupid shit like Transitions or anti-glare lenses. Either way, It's $55 for the exam and $80+ for the frames alone... It cost us about $300 total when we got Erf's this spring, but he got Transitions.

And no, we don't have insurance. I'm hoping to get back on the Wisconsin BadgerCare bandwagon, but I'm waiting for Erf's first check without any salary days on it. And the bad news is that there's only one eye exam place that takes Badgercare around here, and Badgercare clients are last priority and have a special list that's usually a 3-month wait. And then another couple week wait for the glasses.

Anyone willing to pay $300 for new glasses so I don't go fucking crazy at work?

And work is making me stabby today. Mullet-ed attorney did some free checking into a matter for a client's friend, and she totally bitched at me because things weren't going exactly how SHE wanted them to go. Sorry, but it's not his responsibility to file this paperwork you're waiting for, so yes, you'll have to go to court until the opposing attorney files it. No need to call Mullet-ed attorney a 'horseshit attorney who apparently didn't fucking do anything for you'.

You didn't pay him. As an attorney friend of mine said very eloquently, "Pro bono work is great in theory. In theory."

I'm thinking of taking a Monday-Tuesday-Wednesday off so that I can have a few recoup days. I haven't had any days off since after the wedding in April... Even though we have half-day Fridays. What am I bitching for? I don't know. I'd just like some alone time, I guess.

My eyes are hurting... Off to listen to some music and be thankful that I don't have any computer work to do...

To my darling baby boy, Erflet...

2009-10-13T11:50:00.005-05:00

Born in February of 2006, you are the piece of heart I never knew I was missing until you found me. I wasn't looking for you, but you found me anyhow.

Your father and I got the official news on June 20th, 2005. You certainly surprised us...

Rolling around to late 2005, your arrival was drawing nearer and nearer. Everyone kept telling me that once you were here, I would no longer have a life of my own. They were wrong, yet oh so right at the same time. I can still go out and do things, but you own my life. My heart is within you, walking around outside my body. I never knew how complete you would make me feel.

Daddy was away a lot after you were first born, and we stuck together through it. It was you and I for some time, and we developed a bond that I don't think could ever be broken. You're my little Gorgeous (regardless of how much grandma hates that nickname), and my sidekick.

You look like your father, but there is so much of me wrapped up in you. Your personality is almost a perfect reflection of mine, all the way down to the smart-ass remarks. I recall how much it annoyed my grandma when she was raising me, so I at least know what I'm getting into as you get older. ;)

And you're such a little love... You're almost four, and you still give random hugs and kisses for no reason. You love to cuddle with Daddy and I, and you're so affectionate. You can't go to bed without a lot of hugs and kisses, or let us drop you off at daycare without the same. When I put you to bed and sit next to you stroking your face and hair, I can feel that absolute love and trust that you have in me.

And baby boy, I promise to do everything in my power to keep earning that every day.

There are times when we're watching a movie, and you'll reach over and stroke my hair or my arm, or you'll simply put your hand in mine. I just want to hug you to me and hold you forever.

And the times you tell me you love me without me telling you first make my heart fly.

There are times when you'll wake up early from your nap and we'll lay on the couch, you sprawled out on top of me with your head resting atop my heart... And you'll fall asleep listening to Mama's heartbeat. If I could bottle up those sweet baby breaths to cherish later, when you get older and you're too cool for your Mama, I would. I hope that you'll never stop your random hugs, even if you do have to wait until no one else is around.

I hope I'll be a great Mama to you in years to come, because you've been the best son I could have ever thought to ask for. I will always love you no matter what the future holds. As Daddy always describes his relationship with his mama, there are unbreakable golden chains binding us.

And when you get older, get married, and have your own babies, know that when I hold my first grandchild I'll close my eyes and remember your sweet baby breaths on my neck as you slept.

Know that every time I look at you, I have no doubt that every moment of morning sickness, every second of labor, every sleepless night, every spit-up-on shirt, was worth it. I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. Know that when and if you ever get a baby brother or sister, you'll always have a special place in my heart as my firstborn. Daddy and I have had some hard times, and your love for the both of us helped us to remember the love we had for one another. You've made us all stronger in our love, and you're completely irresistible.

To put it in so many and so few words, I love you baby boy... I always will.

Because I'm sure most of you are just dying for this...

2009-10-12T15:27:00.004-05:00

I realized that as much as I bitch about how Erflet looks nothing like me, I've never provided you all with photographic proof of said claims.

How terrible of me. *slaps self mockingly* Bad llama.

So, here it is: photographic proof that we look almost nothing alike.

Yeah, check out my giant Jew-schnoz. Ohhh yeah. Bom bom, chick, chicka-chicka.

However, there's no denying he's got one obvious feature of mine. Can you guess?

Yes, he's dressed up as Batman. This was Halloween 2007. I was dressed up as Bahamas Barbie.

Don't pretend you're not m'er-effing jealous. My costume rocked, because I bought the outfit in the Bahamas back in 2003. It says Bahamas all over it.

By the way; the baby blues? He's 5th generation. I, my dad, my grandma, and my great-grandpa all had the baby blues. Can you tell it's a dominant gene in my family? My sister, Katie, has them as well; but hers are pure blue. Erflet and I have flecks of hazel in ours.

See? Okay, so the flash brings out the white flecks more than the hazel. Look above the pupil. :)

Seriously, this is one of my all-time favorite pics of myself.

I'm so self-absorbed.

Watching Evil Dead pre-bedtime was not the best idea I've ever had...

2009-10-12T12:45:00.003-05:00

So, if you've never seen Evil Dead, it's this cheesy 80's horror flick about this group of 5 teenagers/young adults who rent a run-down cabin in the middle of nowhere. What could go wrong with that? I mean, come on. The bridge you crossed only lost a shitload of boards, but hey, who needs to drive our retro-mobile back over to the other side of the bridge? We have a cabin to ourselves!

So, tellingly, they find a mysterious book with Satanic-esque drawings and a tape recorder. But, it's one of those giant ones with two big wheels - like you'd see in a recording studio. They haul it up out of the basement and begin listening to the tape. It's this guy talking about flesh-possessing demons who lay dormant but never truly die. And then, like the fucktard he is, he records the incantation that resurrects these havoc-loving, cataract-sporting, never-gonna-die buggers. The kids, being douchebags, listen to the incantation. Demons are resurrected and begin possessing said Douche Bags. Gore ensues.

My mind and my brain were watching this movie in separate modes, apparently. My mind was slowly turning into a giant cooch, and was becoming more and more afraid of said demons. My brain was slapping my mind upside the head going, "You giant cooch, this movie is so fucking stupid and it's not even scary."

Cause really, it was cheesy 80's horror. It wasn't scary. But I'll be damned if my mind wasn't as convinced as I was.

Being the brain-iac that I am, I decide watching outtakes is a fabulous idea. Something funny to take my Giant Cooch mind off the Super Scary. Nope, just gives my Giant Cooch mind a yeast infection.

Because now, my darlings, I am pretty terrified. And I know it's irrational. I know that there's nothing out there, waiting to possess my flesh and spew green creamed corn at me. (Cause I looked up the trivia on IMDb - the guts were made out of green-dyed cream corn) But I've always had this irrational phobia. I don't like walking down pitch-black hallways, not knowing what lies ahead. I don't swim in lakes - EVER - unless I can see what's underneath me. Because, my pets, I will break out into the shakes. No lie. I'll pee the lake, and I'll freak the fuck out.

Don't look at me like that. Find me someone who HASN'T peed in a lake and I'll give you a liar.

So, because Erf is taking a shower, I have to make the bed. I'm not even lying when I tell you that I was bent over at the waist, trying to keep my feet as far away from the under-bed as possible. I walked over to my side of the bed, broke out in the shakes, and jumped up onto the bed. Shaking.

Yes, I am a huge, huge pussy.

The tale does not end there. Erf was having a grand old time laughing at me. Because he and my brain? Totally on the same wavelength. "It was just a movie, it wasn't even scary."

Except the Giant Cooch had me incapacitated. Evil mind. It was fucking with me.

I'm laying in bed, eyes darting about, with the light on. I'm 24 years old with a 3 1/2 year old son, and I'm scared to turn off the light. I am ashamed, even as I type this. Erf suggestively says, "Hey, I've got a boner. Why don't you come over here and I'll distract you?"

I'm irrationally terrified, and you think bumping uglies is the solution? I know someone who can help you. Her name is Rosy Palms. Distract that.

I turn out the light (because I have to pretend I'm not a giant quivering quim) and try falling asleep. Giant Cooch just laughs at me.

I hallucinate my dreams. I'm awake enough to be aware of my surroundings, but I see things that aren't there until I fully wake up. I once woke Erf up because I was convinced there was a box on the wall of our old apartment that was spewing out spiders. He was not happy. I'm weird.

So, of course, every half hour or so last night I would wake up to see the un-dead ready to possess my flesh. Lots of fun. I'm so motherfucking sleepy. Today, I'm fine. I could watch that film and laugh at it. Kind of like Ghost Ship - I had a similar experience with that flick, except I wasn't afraid of it until I had a halluci-dream that my family members were all in my room, dead and decayed, trying to murder me to harvest my soul.

I'm so fucked up. If you want to pretend you no longer know me, I'll understand...

By special request...

2009-10-07T14:13:00.003-05:00

Because I've had a few comments on the adorability of Erflet's nickname and the fact that he looks like Erf squeezed him out of his ass by himself with NO HELP FROM ME WHATSOEVER... I decided to provide you with a short post.

To post photos.

To prove that Erflet, he looks like his daddy.

Also, because my sexy bitch friend Megan wanted proof. :)

See, I told you so. Need further proof?

They both have a ridiculously adorable 'Joker' grin. Their mouths actually have an upward curve at the outside when they smile, making them look all Jack Nicholson-ish.

Looks like Erf popped him out of his ass, doesn't it? :)

And one more stitch for the husband...

2009-10-07T09:47:00.005-05:00

Okay, so, seriously.

I am so sick and tired of all these headlines EVERY. FUCKING. WHERE. about Jon and Kate.

Don't get me wrong. This girl enjoys juicy headlines just as much as the next person with a vagina and a gossip button. Angelina caught Brad having sex with the nanny? Dr. Phil has a sex scandal? Tom and Katie are on the outs?

Bring it on. I enjoy celeb gossip when it's just tabloid gossip. You don't really believe that Oprah is really an alien, do you? No, but it's still fun to read about. What was that green glow around her anyhow?...

As Sean Connery's character William Forrester says in the film Finding Forrester, "The Times I read for dinner. But this {The National Enquirer}, this is my dessert."

Now that we've cleared up that I don't mind tabloid dramz, I do mind this whole Jon and Kate thing. I never watched Jon and Kate Plus Eight. Never appealed to me. Whatever, no big deal. Not every person likes every TV show.

Then, the dramz began creeping it's way ever-so-steadily onto the tabloid covers. "Jon caught having an affair!" "Kate beats her kids!" Whatever. It's the shit they're slinging at each other that's got me pissed off.

Nope, I haven't read the articles, but the headlines and the Entertainment Tonight clips give me enough to put a bad taste in my mouth. Do you people not realize that all your dirty laundry is being aired in public? I'm sure that despite all your fuckup-edness, your kids will grow up to be at least functionable human beings, if not pretty smart kids. They'll know how to use the internet. They will see all your self-centered, narcissistic, money-hungry actions that they don't see at home.

You are not a normal couple having it out in the confines of a courtroom, arguing over whether he gets the frequent flier miles or you do because he earned them flying to Denver to meet his whore. Keep it civilized, douche bags. It's called poise and being an adult.

Plus, I'm sure that regardless of your current asshat factor, you do love your kids. I'm also pretty sure that once upon a time you didn't plan on having kids specifically to put them on a TV show. So act like parents, suck your shit up, and fight it out in court. Quit trying to make the general public feel sorry for you. We do, but it's because we pity you.

Damn mommy programming, making me all pissed off at irresponsible parenting. There used to be a time that I, too, looked scornfully upon crying infants in grocery stores and in malls. I used to go out for long, leisurely dinners to restaurants people rarely bring children to. And I used to go grocery shopping at 2 am because a) I could, and b) there was a slim chance of lines or children at that time of night.

UTERUS, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?! You bitch! You turned me into this sympathetic mom... *sigh* I guess I just have to embrace it. Shit.

Also, I'd like to say that Erf needs to stop fantasizing about moving to Kansas. I am not an adorable-cheeked gingham-wearing girl with braids. I do not do heat well. I went to Florida in February (FEBRUARY!) one time, and it was too hot for me.

It gets above 85 and I turn into Super Bitch. I make Kyle's Mom look like Mary Freaking Poppins. And everyone knows that Kyle's Mom is a bitch. She's a big, fat bitch. She's the biggest bitch in the whole wide world, she's a bitch to all the boys and girls.

And Erf's uncle lives in Kansas. And keeps taunting Erf with magical phrases like, "nice apartments" and "good-paying jobs"... Damn you. Fucking Kansas being all taunt-y to Erf. Bah.

Because I love you, because I care, here's a PSA about popcorn.

2009-10-06T09:46:00.003-05:00

No this isn't some stupid PSA with starving Ethiopian children running around with their ribs sticking out, or with oriental kids with cleft palates.

Don't worry, lovers, I wouldn't depress you like that. Cause starving children and kids with sad, broken faces? They make me cry. I feel bad for them, I do, but when I'm worrying about how to afford to feed my own child? Not as concerned with the kids in 3rd world countries.

Whoa, what the hell? I'm here to tell you about popcorn.

More specifically, popcorn burn. From the kernel.

I had a stroke of brilliance yesterday. I decided to say fuck the food pyramid, I want homemade stove top popcorn for dinner. Not that I don't give the food pyramid a big F U every day anyway, but whatever.

I put my awesome pot on the burner, put in some veggie oil, popcorn kernels, and put the top on. Turn the heat on. Shake it up so the kernels don't burn. I got mad popcorn skillz, yo.

Popcorn begins popping. Erflet is fascinated. It gets to the top, so I take it off the stove, pour some in the bowl, and set the pot back on the burner. I'm not an idiot. I know popcorn keeps popping after you take it off the stove. A few kernels popped out of the bowl, no big. Erflet threw them out like a good helper.

The popping begins to slow, so I take the pot off the burner. I take off the top, and pour the remainder in the bowl. A few kernels pop, no big.

Then an un-popped, burning kernel jumped from the bowl, and down my bra. Right down my fucking cleavage.

My breasts are irresistible, even to food.

Here, my friends, are photos I took of my cleavage (Yes, my bewbs, they're on the internets!) about 45 minutes after said burn:

You can see the trail it left down my bosom. Where it hopped on my left bewb and that big spot where it rested at the bottom of my underwire.

Close-up of the resting place. I still have a burn spot this morning.

Who wants to rub burn cream on my cleavage?!

You know you wanna. ;)

Oh, um, the PSA part!

Leave the top on until the popping of the kernels stops. Otherwise you too may get burned.

See, you thought I was just gonna stop at the bewbs! Ha!

Dun, duh da dah! Food porn!

2009-10-05T10:11:00.004-05:00

I know, I know... I haven't posted food porn in quite some time, but this is the first real order I've had. There will be more food porn coming soon, I have a big order coming up for October 17th... Two pies, two dozen cookies and another Double Chocolate torte - but orange this time!

Before I commence with the drool-worthyness that is my food porn, I have a few rants to go on about. Don't worry, it's nothing too full of The Sewious.

Numero Uno. Why is it that old women who bathe in that baby powder/bug spray/musk perfume always move in gaggles and always climb on elevators in threes? Seriously, I get it. You're thinking that the Avon perfume is all full of The Awesome. Really, we're in 2009, not 1909. Get a new perfume.

Numero Dos. We have two main elevators and a service elevator in our 8-floor building. The two main elevator banks have been out 'For Repairs' for almost three weeks now. Can I even relay to you how annoying it is to pinch your cheeks walking down the stairs because the elevator takes FOREVER? Building Owner: FIX THE FUCKING ELEVATORS. SOON. Kthxbai.

Numero Tres. The phone. It needs to stop motherfucking ringing. Seriously, people. I've put 7 messages in the box for the Mulletted One in the last 10 minutes. SHUT UP.

Numero Quattro. I really don't like being asked random stupid law questions. I'm a fucking receptionist, not the attorney. I don't know if that pot plant you own in Brazil is really illegal or not, nor do I care. Call during business hours, I'll be happy to take a message. Or maybe I'll be happy to take some Percocet. Yeah, pretty sure it's the latter.

Okay, on to the food porn!

I had an order for Raspberry Chiffon pie. Three of them, to be exact. They are, well... Very pretty to say the least. :)

You begin with 12 oz of frozen raspberries for each pie. Yep, 36 oz of frozen raspberries. You warm them until they being sweating their juices (ooh, dirty!), add pectin and sugar, and sieve it.

Yeah, that was a HUGE pain in my ass. I can't get all the seeds out of my sieve. Will have to soak.

You take a baked pie shell (yes, I make mine from scratch)...

and once the jelly is cooled to room temp you fold in fresh raspberries. Then you fill the bottom of the shell with the mixture. Mmm, glisteningly pretty homemade jelly...

Pretty, pretty pink chiffon layer... Raspberry jelly, raspberry gelatin, cream cheese, and heavy whipping cream. It looks like one of the pies in the end segment of Waitress, doesn't it?

BTW, if you haven't seen Waitress, go rent it. I fucking love that movie. It has Nathan Fillion in it!

Then, to top it off (literally) homemade vanilla whipped cream frosting. Because sweetened whipped cream doesn't hold it's form when piped, you make frosting with it instead. Intriguing, no? And for good measure, a garnish of a fresh raspberry. Gotta break up the monotony of the white. :)

Voila. May I hand you a tissue or perhaps a mop for the drool?

Dirty quickie.

2009-10-02T11:34:00.003-05:00

I was reading a post by Mommy Brained and was reminded of this story that I had to tell you all before I forget and have to leave work for the weekend.

Back in 2004-2005, pre-Erflet, Erf and I were strolling around our local Target. We were roaming the toy aisle due to my obsession with Barbies and Erf's obsession with... toys.

Some Star Wars flick had just come out and they had half an aisle dedicated the damned toys... But one toy will stick with me.

Fortune-telling Yoda. He looked kinda like this.

We, being mature Ah-Dults asked him all sorts of stupid questions.

Then, I had a stroke of sheer brilliance, similar to the stroke of brilliance I had when I bought our remote-control fart machine.

Yes, we had one. No, we don't have it anymore. I'll get to that later.

I asked Yoda, "Does Erf have a big penis?" (Not that I didn't already know. I was an Ah-Dult.)

Yoda, calmly and cooly, responds:

"Do not think; feel. Use the force you will."

I was on the floor laughing within 1/27th of a second.

Now, as for the fart machine... I bought it for both of us, and we attended a movie with a friend of ours and her boyfriend. I took the machine into the restroom so we could test it through walls.

Sure as shit, it did. I was in the restroom laughing while I peed, and my pocket was farting. It was fabulous.

Then, they set it off right as we walked past concessions. It was the loudest one EVER. And it was unquestionably funny, because all the employees were laughing at me.

I've also walked around the mall with it in my back pocket, and given someone else the remote. It's funny to walk through higher end retailers and watch the stuck-up snobs buying their Lancome and Estee Lauder react to my fart machine.

Then one day around 4 am, we woke up to farting noises. Constant, streaming farting. Either the fart machine was going off or Erf had something really wrong with him.

Nope. The fart machine was POSSESSED. We hit the off button repeatedly, nothing. It just kept going and going. It was the Energizer Bunny of Fart Machines!!!

We finally took the batteries out because... Obviously. It was 4 am, and we had just gone to bed two hours beforehand. Fuckin' fart machine.

In which I sit in my office, singing to Phantom Of The Opera.

2009-10-02T08:43:00.003-05:00

I'm not a horrible singer, mind you, but I'm not Emmy Rossum... Fo' Sho'.

I do better with the likes of Kelly Clarkson, Christina Aguliera and RENT songs.

I live up north in Wisconsin. In a town next to the lake. (Lake Superior, for you morons who don't know what lake borders northern Wisconsin) I can literally look out my office window and see the lake. It's super choppy because it's windy, and motherfucking cold. And it looks brown, which probably means something fancy... Like that there's a giant spoon and God is stirring up the lake like settled hot cocoa. Or there's a strong current. Either way, I don't wanna swim in murky lake-water. Yuck.

So anyway, it was also cold yesterday and last night... So I brought my fan/heater home to warm our hearts and our bodies, because our heat is included in our rent. And that means that there's a pretty locked plastic box surrounding the thermostat. So I set up heaters in our room and Erflet's, (don't worry, they have automatic tip turn-off and they're energy efficient, and I only set Erflet's so high on low power to keep it from overheating him) and when it was time for Erf and I to go to bed, he climbs under the covers and tells me that it's still cold.

It was probably 40 yesterday, windy, and raining sporadically (try and use it in a sentence today - 5 points if you guess the flick!) and I wore a skirt, 3/4 sleeve shirt and no jacket. I don't mind cold. I embrace it. And the more blankies I can snuggle under (it's not unusual to find me under two comforters in the winter), the better I sleep. Erf sleeps better when it's warmer outside. You see where this is going? This was (not verbatim) our conversation after his 'cold' comment:

Me: "You're like a friggin polar bear."

Him: "Are you calling me fat?" (No lie)

M: "No, but you're always cold. And polar bears live in the cold, so they're always cold. So you're like a polar bear."

H: "No, polar bears have fur and fat, and I'm not fat, and they're always warm."

M: "Alright, fine. You're like... a... uh... Giant squid. They live at the bottom of the ocean and they're cold blooded (no idea, really, but he didn't know either), so you're a giant squid. Always cold. I hope you don't get eaten by a whale."

H: "Ooookay."

Later on as we were settling down to sleep, he was on his back. I had been using his arm for a pillow but he made me stop because his arm was falling asleep or some other pussy shit. I turned onto my side and was about to cuddle up to his side with my back to him, then he turns on his side away from me (not a scorn, it's just the side he prefers to sleep on). So I just snuggle against him, back to back, butt to butt.

He stretched, and I thought he was gonna fart on me.

I asked him if he was gonna fart on me.

He said no, he didn't have to fart. But that it would be really funny to fart into my buttcrack, and he wondered what sound it would make.

I then asked, "What do you think would happen if you took two people, had them spread their asscheeks, and put them butthole-to-butthole... And fart at the same time. What do you think would happen?"

He said, "I don't think their buttholes would touch that way."

I replied, "Well, what if one was on their side and the other was the regular way, and you fit them together like puzzle pieces?"

He said, "I think it would sound funny."

And then we went to sleep.

Now I'm singing along with Time Warp...

It's the pelvic thru-u-ust, it really drives you insa-a-a-a-ane...

I went up to Michael's last night to purchase some pie boxes for an order I have for Monday and a large tip coupler... Because it'll make my life easier. I also had to go to Cub (grocery store) to buy some things for dinner, so I thought, "I'll grab my ingredients while I'm here!"

I'm making three pies, and this was my shopping list:

36 oz. frozen raspberries (about $4.50 for one 12 oz package)

9 Tablespoons dried pectin ($2.50)

3 cups fresh raspberries (on sale 2 for $5 for those small plastic packages. I bought 4 just in case)

9 Tablespoons raspberry gelatin mix (about $1)

9 oz. cream cheese (blocks are only 8 oz, luckily they had small 3 oz packages) ($1 per package)

6 3/4 cups heavy whipping cream ($4.60 per quart; I bought 2)

Sugar and shortening (About $5)

Yeah, I totally spent around $45 on ingredients. FOR THREE PIES. I'm charging $45. The raspberries alone cost almost $30. I'm not making any profit; basically making the pies for free.

Fuck. My. Life.

*sigh* I didn't think frozen raspberries were so goddamn expensive!

Ahh, Kelly. My Life Would Suck Without You. Just the song I needed. :)

The Intellectual Fantasy Game.

2009-10-01T09:33:00.004-05:00

Okay, so it's not really a game.

Unless you all want it to be. But as I was dropping Erflet off at Daycare this morning, one of the providers (who's around my age) and I were discussing our 'Hollywood Freebies'. For those of you unfamiliar with this term, it's the one Hollywood star you'd do the hibbidy-dibbidy with if you had a free pass.

Dude, you wish you had my daycare. Honestly, I'd be uncomfortable if they DIDN'T feel comfortable sharing their freebies with me.

Erf and I have a very open relationship regarding our crushes. We can be sitting there watching a movie and I'll say, "God, Will Smith is so damn hot. You'd totally do him." and Erf will say, "Fuck yeah, I'd do Will Smith!" Sometimes we disagree. But usually our tastes are pretty in tune.

Because I have so many Hollywood crushes, I'm going to give you a small sampling today. Also known as my Intellectual Hollywood crushes. Because while I wouldn't necessarily have sex with them (Because two of them are gay anyhow), I'd love to live with them, talk with them, explore their psyche.... Because I think they're brilliant actors.

First up is Anthony Hopkins. Bitches, please. You knew he was gonna be on here, so don't start. I first fell in love with Sir Anthony years ago when my dad exposed me to The Silence Of The Lambs for the first time. I adore that movie, and the character of Hannibal fascinated me. Hannibal is intensely intelligent, refined, and a total gentleman. Except for the whole murder-thing. And even then, he murdered those who offended his nature.

Yes, I'm fucked up. I have an odd fascination with serial killers, so sue me. Not that I have urges to become one myself, I just love the psychology of it all. And Hannibal? He's the classiest killer of them all.

Also, Anthony Hopkins is marvelous in pretty much every film I've ever seen him in. Hearts In Atlantis, Dracula, The Edge, Meet Joe Black, Amistad, The Mask Of Zorro, the list goes on. Sir Anthony? Let's have dinner and chat. However, I refuse to serve fava beans and a nice Chianti. Perhaps a nice sweet white?

Donald Sutherland. I never really had much of a fascination with him (Kiefer, on the other hand, is a different story - because Jack Bauer... Hello!) until Dirty Sexy Money. He portrayed Patrick 'Tripp' Darling III with such a finesse that I couldn't help but love him as that character.

By the way, ABC, I fucking hate you for cancelling DSM. Bitches.

His voice is captivating, and his utter perfection of his portrayal of the aristocrat Tripp is just... Fantastic. Donald, let's have drinks sometime, yes? Call me.

I don't give a flying mothercock who you are. You fucking love Julie Andrews. And bitches be loving Julie if bitches know what be best for bitches. I was not a fan of Mary Poppins, but she was gorgeous. My personal preference was for Sister Maria... How do you solve a problem like Maria? Apparently by hooking her shit up with a crazy former sea captain. Because somewhere in her youth or childhood, she must have done something good.

Except eavesdropping on the nuns. That was naughty. However, from a young age, her voice and aura captivated me. The only other movies I've ever seen her in were the Princess Diaries and the Shreks, but she's still just has an innate beauty and grace. Yo, Jules. Let's have tea, I'll break out the fine china and the Lipton.

Who DIDN'T love Michael Caine in Miss Congeniality? "It's all in the buttocks, don't I look pretty!" He's just... Awesome. He's so multi-faceted in his acting. He's got a charming accent, and he was excellent as Garth in Secondhand Lions. "You don't think I killed all those men 'n saved Hub?" He does deadpan sarcasm so well... Multi-faceted. That's really the best way to begin and end my Ode to Michael. Michael, even if you are gay, let's do lunch. I promise not to drink beer and I'll even tell you how pretty your buttocks are.

Rupert Everett... Prince Charming... That accent, those eyes, that physique. Alas, he's also gay, so he goes on my intellectual list.

But rest assured knowing that I'd actually have intercourse with one of the people on this list. If he wasn't interested in poo factories instead of poon.

I'm just not one for getting man chowdah up my 'other' pussy. Sorry. So, um. How about breakfast? Cause I've got other plans for the rest of the day.