Morning (Or Mid-Morning, Actually) Thoughts

-A dislocated finger is no good for my softball skills. But I'm a kick-ass score keeper.

-The best thing about softball: after-beers at the bar.

-Fried jalapeno discs: not so spicy going in; WAAAAY too spicy on the exit.

-You know what I think it funny? Pooping in my work bathroom when someone else is trying to poop in the stall next to me. ALL kinds of poop-shyness occur. Unintentional hilarity.

-Coffee makes for a more spastic morning poo than tea.

-I love my new skirt from Anthropologie. Witness:

-Tonight I'm watching my TV drug: America's Next Top Model. Two words: Tyra's vag-pits.



The Good, The Bad, and the Hideously Ugly

Let's get right to it:

The Good

Last night me and the hubs saw Queens of the Stone Age, with Dax Riggs opening. One word: SA-WEEEET!!! Dax Riggs=hot and very talented. Josh Homme=hot and very talented.
Great show at a cool club. My friend even got a hug out of Dax. (Oh, and if you haven't heard his latest album, RUN, DO NOT WALK, my friends, to get it: Dax Riggs, We Sing of Only Blood or Love.)

Bonus: Jack White showed up to our little mountain town with his supermodel wife to catch the show!

The Bad

I just received an email from my mom (I love how she always hits me with this crap when I'm at work) about how disappointed she is with me and how I've changed so much in the past couple of years.

Gah. I don't even know how to respond to it right now. I mean, fuck yeah I've changed in the last few years. Ergo: I graduated college, worked as a stockbroker, was a communications director (read: slave) for a museum, got married, bought and sold houses like baseball cards, lost my hero of a father, been on the edge of divorce twice, and acquired a new scar. Um, yeah, I think I've changed just a little bit.

The Ugly

I haven't spoken about this much, seeing as I started this blog after the most recent Superbowl, but I'm a rabid Chicago Bears fan. (Until very recently, I had a Bears tattoo on the back of my neck. Shut up! It was an hommage to my dad after he died. Anyway, it's covered by a black rose now.) They looked GREAT last year, with the exception of an inconsistent QB. But dammit, Sunday looked like my toilet bowl the morning after I tie one on. Shitty. Shitty shit shit shitty shit. Shitty.

Ear Candy to remove the shit:

Dax Riggs: Stop, I'm Already Dead

UPDATE: I had a great conversation with my mom over the phone on my lunch break. We're all good, and I'm a hero, and she should be kinder to herself. Which is all I could ever hope for. A happy mom. Yay.


Photo Love

There are many things that I consider myself a whore for. One of those things is earrings. Check out these fuckers I got from the consignment store yesterday:

Fuck yeah.


Horrible Accidents and Gnarly Scars: A Tour of My Body

I love a good scar story. For many reasons, but a) there is usually a visual aid, and b) the pride with which people tell these stories of pain, stupidity, or sheer dumb luck. Because, let's face it, no one tries to mutilate themselves (and when I say no one, I am not including those sycophantic leaders of tomorrow(i.e. unfortunate teenagers) that cut each other because they are so emo, and I also don't include anyone who gets off on pain. Because that is not in the realm of normalcy).

Anyhoo, love me a good scar story, so in order to get the ball rolling, I'll tell you my best.

  • Middle finger, right hand, age 2.

So I'm two years old, and hanging at the mall with my mom. She is at the top of the escalator, probably fighting with bio-dad, and I have somehow wandered to the bottom of the escalators. I look between the moving stairs, and there is the awesome green light, that in my 2 year old brain I recognize as Jello. (Everyone loves J-E-L-L-O!) So I stick my little hand between the stairs, promptly almost ripping my entire finger apart. By the time my mom pries my little hand from the escalator, I have mercifully blacked out and my finger is dangling away from the bone, which luckily, wasn't broken. I just had to have my finger stitched back on, and now I have a Frankenstein-style scar. Rockin'.

  • Upper left thigh, age 11.
I'm playing with our then-canine pal, Fluffy, (my brother named her) in the backyard of our quaint little home. I jump onto the wooden swing (you know the type; it's a bench with long woode slats) and Fluffy jumps up beside me. I jump off and turn around, expecting her to jump off after me, and she has somehow gotten her little back leg stuck between the wooden slats of the swing, and is hanging there, yelping in extreme pain. Horrified and scared, I run over to free her from the evil swing, and she reaches over and clamps her jaws around the top of my leg, causing me to start screaming at the same pitch of her yelping. My dad runs from the garage to free us both, take me to the doctor, and Fluffy to the vet. Sad ending: Fluffy never came near me again, and ran away about three weeks after that. I was so so so sad. :(

  • Right ankle, age 16.
I played soccer through middle school and high school, and in high school, our team was damn good. (Won State Champ two years running.) During practice, a particularly nasty girl on my team (we were scrimmaging) slide-tackled me, and foot got stuck in a small hole on the field. My foot stayed there, and my body went forward. I ripped every tendon and ligament in my ankle, and was on crutches for the rest of the season. Stupid bitch. She's lucky that I didn't need surgery. I almost did, but I begged out of it. Fuck some damn surgery, you know?

  • Left gluteus muscle, small scars on upper left thigh, age 20.
This is the one scar that I wish I didn't have, mainly because it affects how I look in a bikini (which isn't half bad). Me and my college buds (Craige Dorm effin' rules) went to a friend's evergreen tree farm in the mountains for Labor Day weekend. Lots of drinking and driving ATVs (of which I am a pro; I've been driving them since I was 10 on my grandparent's farm). The cabin is on top of a small mountain, with a long, winding gravel driveway that leads to the road. A few of my friends were leaving, and I was teaching my friend Ali how to drive the ATV. With me sitting on the back. Wearing flip-flops. With a beer in my hand. A combination that I have come to realize would not affect the outcome whatsoever (except for the flipflop part). So Ali and I decide it would be a grand time to chase our friends at top speed down this steep, rocky, cut-into-the-side-of-the-mountain driveway. Coming around the first turn, I can already tell that Ali isn't cutting sharply enough, and as I'm starting to tell him as much, he screams, "OH SHIRT!!! HOLD ON!!"
Our right front tire catches the edge of the road, and we flip off the drive and careen down the mountain. Luckily, after the second flip, I was thrown off, and after the third, Ali made it off. But when the ATV landed the first time, it landed directly on my ass, bounced, and kept going. Being that I can't move, Ali attempts to carry me up the mountain. We make is to a field, and I have to walk the rest of the way to the cabin. My flipflops, of course, flew off, and we have to trek through briars and brambles. My feet looked like I had run through razorblades. We get back to the cabin, where everyone else is blindly drunk, and for the first time I look down at my legs. I was wearing shorts. Protruding from my left leg was over 15 sticks. I pulled them all out, except one, which when I pulled it out it broke right beneath the skin and stayed inside my leg.*
Luckily, I had not damaged my pelvic gurdle (with the weight of the ATV crashing onto me, it should, by all rights, have crushed my bones to powder), however, it completely severed my left gluteus muscle, causing interal bleeding, etc.
But I made it out alive.

There have been other occasions of serious proportions, but after the ATV accident, everything pales in comparison. So give me your worst people. I love this "shirt".

*Oh, the stick was buried so deeply, the doctor thought I was lying. I insisted he cut the fucker out, or I would goddamn well do it myself, right there. After digging 4 inches into my leg, he found it. It was shaped like the barb on a fishhook. I still have it at home.
There was nothing, on the other hand, that he could do for my ass. So now I sport a highly fashionable and well-earned dent that goes entirely across my left ass cheek. Hot, I know. My husband calls it my handle.


Dislocations are Disgusting

Our softball team had a game last night (did I mention we suck? we suck) and as we were warming up ( I was slated to play first base) the shortstop (who throws really hard) threw to me and I dislocated my finger. I wish I had taken a picture of it while it was out, but I couldn't stand it and I immediately popped it back into place.

Let me tell you something: for those of you fortunate enough to never have experience a dislocated finger, it is completely disgusting. For example:

This is exactly what my finger looked like, except it was my ring finger. Gross, eh?

It was strange; I knew the ball had hit my hand pretty hard, and I was getting ready to throw it back when I looked down at my hand and saw it all mangled.

I immediately had to look away from it and pop it back into place. (My brother has played rugby for years, and I have seen him relocate fingers many times. I was confident I could do it.)

So here is what it looks like today:

It is pretty swollen and starting to bruise, but I have some mobility and I don't think I need to see a doctor (contrary to what all my teammates and the Internet says I should do).

I mean, yeah, it is a bit painful, but I can take ibuprofen and it feels fine. The only thing I'm worried about is if I have a minor fracture or something that I can't see without an x-ray. Another issue: I HATE the doctor, hospitals, waiting rooms, etc. I would rather deal with it than go to a doctor, honestly.

Anyway, that's what is new in my world today, so of course I want to broadcast it. I love sharing injury stories, don't you? Tell me a good one.


More iPhone Love

I'm a maniac. But the hubs loves it too. Can you blame us?

Isis, the Protector.

The Hubs.

The hubs first iphone photo. Of course, it is of my chest. Gotta love him.



Yep, I am now the proud owner of an iPhone. And let me tell you, it really is everything that people have hyped it to be. I am SO in love with this gadget (coming from a girl who doesn't even own an iPod; i know, right??), so it's a good thing it was my husband that got it for me. Bless his sweet sweet heart.

So, what should I do with my iphone today? I think I will take it for a walk. Maybe you would like a tour of my cubicle.

Let's start with the main attraction:

Hello! This is me, today, at work. Notice the plethora of lovely colors that abound, as well as the amazing quality of this photo, taken with my iphone. I am the coolest person ALIVE!

This is my desk! Hello desk. And work that I am totally avoiding today. And guess what: it is SO worth it. Play time has never felt so good. (Notice the discarded cell phone lying useless and unloved atop my to-do list. I am a fickle master.)

And this is the kitchen at my office.

And this is the women's bathroom at my office.

Now I must go and play. See you all soon. :)
I'm in Boo-heaven.


Ear Candy: Wig in a Box

When I feel low, or even just blah, this song really makes me smile.

Hedwig and the Angry Inch: Wig in a Box



I have felt so unmotivated to post anything funny, creative, or resembling entertaining, as I have been ridiculously busy and somewhat self-destructive to my downtime (read: blogwriting). So, a couple of quick updates about what is going on with me. Because I'm narcissistic enough to think you care, and blazie enough to not care if you don't.

*My husband and I finally moved into our rental house. Two months later than expected. Remember my flea post? Yeah.
* Now there are plumbing issues. Meaning, six inches of dirty water in our shower when we run a load of laundry. And leaking under the kitchen sink. Bea-u-tiful.
*My mom's house finally sold, but she has about 3 weeks to tidy up and incredibly detailed life, and I swear to god she might drive me crazy yet if she hasn't succeeded already, and honestly, I'm not the person to ask one way or another.
*Summer hours at my office are over. Boo. And I thought summer was for chilling.
*Our new house has footers! Yippee! (Photos of the process will happen, I promise.)
*My little sister went back to Maryland. I cried all night. Boo.
*I am now juggling a ridiculous workload, with no end in sight. And the raise wasn't as great as I had hoped. Boo. I might just quit my job and start bartending again. I made some seriously sweet cash.
*I want to get out and play music with some peeps, but I am either too busy or too tired. Dammit.
*My cat is taking the biggest shits I have ever seen laid by a cat before. It is INSANE. And my poor husband has to clean the litter box, because I do this really horrendous *heave* if I have to even go near it, not to mention the involuntary gags that happen when he is changing it and I can smell it in the other room. GAH. I swear, it is the worst thing I have ever smelt in my life.
*I threw up randomly last night before our softball game, but didn't really feel sick until right when it happened, and felt fine afterward. (I pitched a whole game. A ridiculously bad game, but whatever.) A friend of mine said the P-word, and now I'm pissed. (For those of you not in my brain, the P-word is "pregnant". Gah.)
*Did I mention that my mom might just make me crazy? And we're not living with her anymore. Maybe I should change my name and move to a different country. Eh, but that would just give her a reason to REALLY get pissed.
*Did I mention my mom just turned 50 (last week) and we threw a HA-YUGE party for her? It was great fun, and she looked hot. I hope I look half as good as her at 50. My husband is a lucky man.
*Did I mention my mom taught me how to give a BJ when I was 14? Yep.
*We got a new car, since my husband's truck was totalled (not his fault). It's cute and gets great gas mileage. I'll take a sexy picture of him on the car and post it.
*Da Bears lost their season opener. Gah.
*I got more tattoo work done, but I need to take pics, so those will be up soon too, I suppose. If I can get my ass to care. Blah.

Anyhoo, entertain me now, monkeys.

Super Luchadores

A friend of mine (considered either a genius or a nutbag, depending on whom you ask; I'm of the first mindset) created a wrestling show a couple years ago. It still lives on, with various episodes and updates. Here is a highlight reel. Enjoy!

And if you want to see more, check out his blog here.