Thursday, June 28, 2012

Christmas Socks

Sooo, I work from home. 

And, by home, I mean my parent's home. And, by my parent's home, I mean our landlord's home, which is fully furnished with more than everything we could possibly want/need times a bajillion. Or, maybe I will end up needing 34 pillows. I'm not sure. Maybe someday I'll get invited on a camping trip with a polygamous Mormon family and I can offer to bring the pillows. One can only hope.

At any rate, what does working from "home" mean? Christmas socks every day ya'll!
I actually don't wear too many socks or jeans in Florida. Usually it's flip flops and shorts...especially this time of year. This was just a rare day in which I was really gussied up. Clearly, I take my dress attire at work very seriously, so sometimes I go all out and go for the good stuff.

Seriously though, I know the fact that I work from home is a source of a little bit of jealousy for some of my friends. And, trust me, most of the time it's pretty awesome. The pros definitely outweigh the cons, and hopefully I'll be able to continue to work from home for a long while. But, that remains to be seen. There are so many things I'm able to do now that I could never even come close to doing at a regular job. I'm not going to list them all because it should be fairly obvious. So, even though there are some days where it's extremely annoying and frustrating for a wide variety of reasons, I'm really trying to enjoy it and take it all in while I can since it's quite a luxury. 

One of the things that's kind of annoying though is I have all these nice, dressy, "work" clothes that go to waste now. I'm not going to get all dressed up in a fucking skirt and blouse just to impress my parents and sit around at my computer at my house. So, I end up wearing a bunch of generic, boring clothes pajamas all day instead. It's not the most pleasant sight...pajamas, a bra if I'm feeling modest, no makeup, fake glasses, the whole nine. Oh, and my hair doesn't do too well in, that usually looks pretty jacked up and frizzy as well. Altogether, it's the makings for an attractive look.

It's a wonder that, when the need arises, I'm still able to pull myself together fairly well and resemble a normal, contributing member of society.

(FYI, I'm exaggerating a wee bit...even though I do reside in central Florida, I'm not that much of a low life :said while taking a swig of Natural Ice:).

Monday, June 25, 2012

Monday's Music

I really like ALO (Animal Liberation Orchestra), and these songs in particular are just swell...

Happy Monday :-)

Sunday, June 24, 2012

Want to look smarter?

If you're anything like me, sometimes you want to appear smarter than you look/sound. A simple solution that doesn't involve actually learning anything new? Fake glasses! 

You still might not be able to partake in intellectual conversations involving art or politics, but at least you can sit there silently with a ponderous expression on your face while looking off into the distance...all the while looking like a genius. People will be like yeah, she gets it. With glasses and the careful mastering of the right facial expression, you'll have everyone fooled.

Do I actually need glasses? Nooo, of course not (I got Lasik when I was 20)! But, do I instantly look 10x smarter in them? Heck yes I do.

In fact, just yesterday when I put my fake glasses on, my dad looked at me quizzically admiringly and said "I've never met anyone quite like you." I think what he meant was "I've never met anyone who had so many untapped, great ideas."

I know, I know, it's a little weird to wear fake glasses around for fun. If anything, it makes my already perfect vision worse because instead of seeing things normally, I'm now seeing them through a piece of cheap glass. It's just that, sometimes I miss wearing glasses.

And let me translate what "sometimes" means in this instance...I'm sometimes too lazy to put on mascara. I hate going out in public without having on at least a little mascara. I'll do it if I have to; I just don't prefer it. More specifically, I just don't operate in that realm of self confidence. So, sometimes, a faster solution than putting on mascara is putting on fake glasses. Not only do I appear more intelligent even though in actuality I'm just being super lazy, but my need for mascara has also been drastically minimized. Win win.

Now I know you're all thinking I'm super smart because this is such an easy idea and why didn't you think of it first, right? I'm telling's the glasses. They make me smarter. If you want to just buy a fake pair of glasses too and never wear mascara again, I won't hold it against you. Imitation is the highest form of flattery, as they say.

It's hard to know what came great glasses/no mascara idea or the glasses themselves. It's kind of like the whole chicken and the egg thing...............except mostly completely different and way less pertinent.  

Thursday, June 21, 2012

The day a crackhead really wanted a burger from McDonald's...

...and the subsequent totaling of my my mom's car. 

(fyi people, this happened about 4-5 years ago, so don't go getting all scared...just makes for a good story/cry)

Here are some photos to set the scene. I bet you were already picturing thin, floppy burgers, obesity, sticky children, and greasy french fries in your mind. But, BAM, airbag-singed wrists instead!

Yep, those are pictures of my real wrists. Who would have thought something so simple as a crackhead wanting a burger from McDonald's could turn into such a grizzly scene? Actually, I suppose crackheads wanting a variety of things, namely crack, could easily turn into all types of grizzly scenes. But, I digress.

Anyway, here's what happened. I was driving home from kayaking and having lunch with the "Adventure Club" (yeah yeah, that's a story for another day). I was literally 2 minutes from my apartment. I was doing everything right - I was driving the speed limit, I had my seatbelt on, my open alcohol container was safely concealed (jk), I even had my hands at 10 and 2 o'clock, like they tell you to do in driver's ed. Little did I know, on the other side of the street, an antsy crackhead was extremely pumped to pull into McDonald's and order a burger. So much so that she apparently forgot all the normal rules of driving, like checking for traffic before making a lefthand turn. I guess when you're a crackhead and you're really fired up about eating food devoid of nutritional value, this is the type of shit that happens.

I was traveling down a road that had 3 lanes. I was in the leftmost lane. McDonald's was to my right. The crackhead on the other side of the road made a lefthand turn to try to pull into the McDonald's parking lot and smashed completely into the front of my car, right around the driver's side door/tire area. She wasn't going too fast (luckily) because she was starting from a stopped position, but I was probably going about 35 mph because I didn't see her or expect anyone to be doing anything so stupid. Obviously, it was extremely startling and jarring. It was a huge impact and the airbag went off. It whizzed past my wrists (which like I said, were at 10 and 2 o'clock...turned out to not be the greatest hand positioning in this instance, after all) and hit me under the chin and in my face. I would have sworn my entire nose and face were completely broken, but luckily when I checked myself out in the mirror, only my nose piercing was bleeding. 

When I finally realized what happened and felt fairly sane, I got out of my car (which was now completely turned around and flung into the lane closest to McDonald's). It was a little hard to do because the door was all mangled. The crackhead then gets out of her car too, pretty much walks completely past me, and takes a flipping seat on the front lawn of McDonald's...while lighting up a cigarette and proclaiming "all I wanted was a fucking burger". Geez, so sorry my car was in your way. Seriously, I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. This crackhead was a girl. I know it's surprising since crackheads are usually guys. 

The only reason I assume she was a crackhead is because...well, there are a few reasons. 1) Her reaction to the accident. Seriously?! 2) She had an extremely long pinkie fingernail and all her other fingernails were short. She certainly didn't look like any guitar player I've ever seen, and honestly, who would play a guitar with their goddamn pinkie anyway. 3) By the looks of her, she clearly couldn't afford the good stuff (pure cocaine).

I responsibly called the cops while she sat there smoking and looking pissed at me. Interesting, right? The cops came and obviously blamed her for everything. Then an ambulance had to come and all that fun stuff. Luckily, they got there just in time because after all my adrenaline wore off, my wrists were starting to burn like crazy. They poured some soothing stuff on them (and it also helped to clean them off because they had all this gray dust on them from the airbags) and gave me a couple ice packs. As I was getting all cleaned up, the crackhead started complaining that her thumb hurt. What a tragedy, I feel so bad for you. 

So, I ended up having to shower with rubber gloves on for the next couple weeks as my wrists healed. And, I kinda had to stay out of the water and sun since it was summertime. Oh, and my mom's car was totaled. I was only using her car temporarily until I was able to buy a new one because literally a couple weeks before, my cabrio had kicked the bucket. And, the only reason I was able to use my mom's car was because she was using my brother's truck...because he had just gotten a DUI and wasn't allowed to drive. Thank you Ben for taking one for the team and thank you Jesus - what a blessing in disguise!

The kicker of the whole thing is that the next time I went to Stop & Shop to buy some groceries, guess who was at the end of the register bagging my groceries? The crackhead! And, guess who had a little bit more than a minimum wage job at the time? Me! Karma bitch!

Oh, aaaaaand, since I documented my healing process so well, the crackhead's insurance company decided to award me $7K for my 'pain and suffering'. And, I got $10K for the totaled car. All in all, well worth the $17K. I'd do it again in a heartbeat. My wrists are completely fine now, and the crackhead and I keep in touch (totally not even true).

The moral of the story is: Most of the time, when you meet a crackhead, something bad will happen. But, there just might be a silver lining.

Here I am with my wrists bandaged up (and apparently a very short shirt)

And here I am ecstatic to have a brand new car after just totaling my mom's

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Spread Eagle

Ok, cool, I'll just work while you laze around spread eagle. Dogs. Am I fucking right?

Pay no mind to the fact that it looks like Pippi takes up residence in a crack house. Her bed is all torn up and there's a precarious looking wire dangling over her head - one that looks like it should maybe have shoes hanging over it. Plus, I'm pretty sure that spread eagle pose is quite prevalent in crack houses. I could be wrong because I've only been to a couple crack houses, but I'm merely speculating.

At any rate, you have no need to worry because Pippi really lives the good life over here.

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

A tune for Tuesday

Mumford & Sons - White Blank Page
(love it)

Oh, was a nice try

Monday, June 18, 2012

On having small hoots

My brother calls me 'hoots'. I wish it was because I had a strong affinity toward owls or "hootin and hollerin" (ummm, what?), but it's mostly just because I have small boobs. Is it weird/inappropriate my brother calls me by a sarcastic nickname referencing my chest size? I'm not sure. You've read what I call my dad, so perhaps I'm not the sanest judge.

I have no idea why I've decided to write a post about my boob-related nickname or my small chest size...I guess my window to pull material from is getting smaller and smaller? Oh well. At least it's more entertaining than what I ate today or if my bowel movements were normal.

Pretty much everyone in my family has a fairly average to large chest size. Some pretty big knockers. Some pretty not so big knockers...but, I definitely take the cake in the 'not so big' department. In middle school, I remember waiting excitedly for my boobs to like, instantly grow overnight into mounds of wonder. As if that would ever happen. I was about 4.7 pounds soaking wet. I bought some 'training' bras even though band-aids or just like, clear nail polish, would have done the trick. No clue what the clear nail polish thing means. Ok, I do kinda know, but if you have no inkling, I'm not gonna explain it.

Anyway, as luck would have it, my boobs pretty much never grew despite my best efforts. I mean, they sort of grew at some point but not by much. It was annoying for a while, but now that I'm almost 30 and pretty secure with how I look, I'm totally cool with it and find it so much easier. After all, boobs are made of fat, and I'm a fairly thin person naturally. It would look pretty weird if I was this thin and then had big boobs. I know some people might think "that would look awesome" (uh yeah, duh)...but, the reality is, there just aren't too many girls that are lucky enough to be really thin and then also have big boobs. Plus, big boobs are a pain. All the cute bras and shirts are made for people with smaller chests. Stuff fits so much easier. And, juniors bras are so much cheaper! Aaaaand, when working out, I don't even need to wear a sports bra. I can pretty much work out with any type of bra on and be absolutely fine. In fact, I could probably flail around completely naked on a treadmill and feel great - except for the whole feeling self conscious because I'm naked, while running, and people are staring at me thing.

Even if I wanted to get breast implants (which I don't), I'm certain the whole thing would go horrifically wrong. My body HATES foreign objects. I tried getting my belly button pierced and my nose pierced twice (for over a year each time), and my body rejected them. It was literally like "nu uh, I don't think so bitch." My nose piercing refused to ever heal even though I was anal about caring for it. And, my belly button slowly pushed the piercing out of my skin over time. Before I finally took it out, the piercing was hanging on by only like 1.4 mm of skin. A very cute look. Therefore, I'm relatively 100% sure that if I ever got breast implants, they would end up strategically exiting their way out through my nipples. Meanwhile, I'd become all diseased and haggard looking and my boobs would turn into a crumpled mess. It'd be horrible.

Have you ever noticed that strippers usually have small boobs? They tend to be thin, so once again, usually their boobs aren't too big. Unless they have fake boobs. I'm not saying hooray, now there's one more reason for me to be a stripper (although the list is pretty much endless), but I am saying that if I ever wanted to be a stripper, at least I'd be in good company. 

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Happy Father's Day, Senor Puss!

As you all hopefully know, it's Father's Day! My dad is actually in CT right now, so he opened up his card before he left, and then we exchanged some little text messages today.

So yeah, I know the nickname Senor Puss is a little scary, but if you're a true fan of my blog, you've read all my posts...and one in particular, talks about how I have problems with nicknames. They pop into my head magically from seemingly no where and then never leave. Instead, they evolve into even stranger nicknames over time. My therapist thinks it's cute (jk - I don't have a therapist). 

I believe my dad's nickname started as "Google" because if you ask him a question, even if he doesn't know the answer (which usually doesn't happen - he usually does actually know the answer to everything), he'll dispense some scholarly and knowledgeable made up answer that seems completely feasible...without even thinking about it for 5 seconds. In fact, it's a wee bit worrisome/concerning. 

Then, that nickname morphed into "Goog L. Puss" (no clue why - I guess I felt bad a gross last name and a middle initial weren't fairly represented). 

And then I think it became shortened to just "Senor Puss" when we got to Florida...mostly because our fully furnished house rental also came furnished with a weekly yard worker named Pedro (he is of the ethnic persuasion in case you're oblivious, and our landlord calls him "Ped-row" which is obviously not to be confused with the proper pronunciation of "Paid-row"). 

So, because my dad would sometimes imitate Ped-row (and by "sometimes", I mean pretty much all the time, or at least whenever my mom left the room and I'd politely ask), he got the word Senor added to his name.

There you have it folks. I knew it would be simple to explain.

Once in a while I call him "Dad" because I figure it can't be all that wonderful to basically be nicknamed the male version of Spanish/Mexican vagina...and, if there's any day to call him by his rightful title, it's today! 

My dad has always been extremely hardworking, dedicated to our family, smart, providing, a good teacher, calm, patient, etc. He rarely yelled unless he was very, very mad about something Ben (not me) did/broke. He's done tons of stuff around the house including all the manly things you can think of, many feminine things like gardening, painting, etc...and he's never been the type to just sit down and drink in front of the tv while watching sports, like I've seen so many dads do. 

And, he continues to wash the dishes every night which is something I can recall from even my earliest childhood days. Not to mention, his relationship with my mom is a wonderful and strong model for what every relationship should strive to uphold.

I feel bad now that I didn't write an equally nice Mother's Day post about my mom on Mother's Day. So, mom, if you're reading this, I love you in the same (just different) ways too!

Happy Father's Day Senor Puss! I love you, and thanks for all that you've done and continue to do with a smile on your face!

Friday, June 15, 2012

Just because I'm single doesn't mean I want to date a 23 year old holy roller

Cha! Seriously though, because I'm single, people looove to try to set me up or conjure up all these great ideas of me dating other single people (a.k.a. losers or people I'd never get along with even while heavily sedated or like, completely roofied and drooling all over my chest).

In their head...
"Oh, you're single? That's great news because I know this one-eyed wombat that is really looking to settle down. His leg is kind of mangled from the accident and so he has a bad limp, but he's totally nice."
Ummm, nope.

Ok, maybe it's not quite that bad, but I'm also not exaggerating too much. You have to know what I mean. You probably even do the same thing if you're already in a relationship...I mean, I used to do the same thing...all the freaking time. You try to set up two people that, even if you don't think they'd be a great match, you think it might be ok. And, by 'ok', I mean an applicable date might be looking for a nice pair of gym shorts at Kohls vs. making out or having an intellectual conversation...or any type of conversation, for that matter. Who's keeping score here anyway? You're single...I'm just trying to help you out.

 Welp, the tables have now been turned.

No, I don't want to date your retarded cousin with a lazy eye. No, of course I don't like guys that are really nice but not hot at all. Duh.

This is just a bunch of smack talking (actually, the gym shorts example is a totally true example...totes magotes), but let me give you a couple of real life scenarios so you can see what I'm working with here...
1) I was at a chamber of commerce event recently in order to do some networking, etc. for our family's new business, and this woman was telling me all about some nice, younger guy that she knows. He was 23. People usually assume I'm somewhere between the age of 18-22 (at least that's what I assume since I constantly get asked what I'm studying in college...uhhh, graduated in 2005, but I guess geography is pretty cool?). I think it's because my boobs still haven't fully developed and I don't wear a lot of make up. Oh, and maybe because I'm not morbidly obese. But, since I'm 29, a 23 year old guy (who, based on age stereotypes for guys which usually ring completely true, probably acts around the age of 18) isn't the most appealing thing in the world. But, then she also told me he is a virgin and really if these attributes alone would make me squeal with delight. Aaaaaand, he broke up with his previous girlfriend because even though she went to bible study faithfully, she was starting to question some things in the bible. Apparently, it was really tough for him to break up with her because he loved her, but he knew he had to do it because of the whole questioning of the bible thing. HOLY CRAP. Noooo freaking way, worst match ever. A 23 year old that's super religious aaand a virgin!? I'll pass.

2) At another business meeting, my mom offered up the fact that I'm single. Naturally, business meetings are the perfect forum to bring up and then talk about that sort of thing. So, the business owner we were talking to asked me how tall I was (5'9"), and then he said he knew a single 30 something year old cop that is 6'7". Well, perfect! I'm 5'9", so obviously I want to date a huge giant.

Those are my two main examples other than getting asked out for drinks by a 65-ish year old man. That's besides the point though because he didn't even know if I was single or not. He was just being gross. Even if I was single, oh wait, I am, I wouldn't go out with a 65 year old man. I think that pretty much goes without saying, but just in case you were wondering if I went out with him or not, I felt the need to clarify.

hardy har har

i know i've said this before but jenna marbles cracks me up. she makes a new video every wednesday, and here is the most recent one...

funny video

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

"If you're going to San Francisco... sure to wear some flowers in your hair." 

This August I'll be taking a little vacation to CT for about a week and a half to visit some friends. I'm so excited! I didn't even have to pay for my flight because of my dad's frequent flyer win win win win win...winning. Ironically, last August was when I took a leap by totally changing up my life and moving to Florida, so the timing seems somewhat fitting for my return visit. Plus, I don't really plan to ever visit there again unless it's in the summer anyway (if I can help it)  ;-)

The last real vacation I went on was this past November. I visited my friend Haley in San Fran for a little over a week, and it was awesome. I didn't even feel an earthquake once! She was able to take the week off from work, so we did tons of fun stuff the whole time. Like, if you can think of literally anything to do in San Fran, we freakin' did it. We even went food shopping at Trader Joe's which is pretty much at the top of my list. I can't even remember the last time I saw Haley before that. We became best friends at my first high school and have kept in touch ever since. Even though we don't talk a ton and I certainly don't see her as much as I'd like, it's one of those things where we truly pick up right where we left off when we do finally see each if there was no huge gap of time or space between us. Things change but basically they stay the same (thanks Dave Matthews).

Napa Valley :-)

Beasley, Haley's dog

Sushi night

Napa Valley

More of driving in Napa

Muir Woods - tons of redwoods! However, did I get any nice photos of a single redwood? Noooo, of course not.

The beach!

Beasley enjoying the sunshine

Haley getting sick of my photo genius

DJ, Stephanie & Michelle Tanner's street

Bright Victorian!


Tourist activities abound!

Golden Gate

The best irish coffee everrr

Tuesday, June 5, 2012