"Put the fucking lotion in the basket!"

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.

Breathe... Just breathe.

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! :)

Holy mother of crack, guys are squicky.

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.

Wow, 100 posts already!

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.

Holy mother lover, another damn birthday already?

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.

Do you ever sit next to that annoying person?

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.

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

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*