Oh my dear lord...

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.

Well ain't that the shit?

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

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...

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

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."

Whoa, I'm not dead! Who knew?

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. :)

Dirty quickie.

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.