No, YOU'VE Been Gone for Eight Years

SooooOOooo I took some time off from writing because I got old and married and had kids and felt like I was too boring to come up with topics that would interest anybody. Then, I realized that my life is dope and I do dope shit, and I'm secretly glad nobody reads this anymore, because now I'm a boss lady, and have to edit myself all damned day and it sucks. So I'm back, but for my own amusement. Plus, my children are pure comedy. Ta-daaaa!

Loretta Lynn Kicks Ass

I JUST discovered Loretta Lynn. I know, right?! Like 28 years later. Sarahjill hooked me up phat with the Coal Miner’s Daughter DVD as preparation for our Pink Cadillac Hearse debut, and I was sold, but then she sent me the following music video and it rocked my MIND so hard that springs were popping out of my head like a Femme Bot:



I highly recommend you check out the full album that Jack White and Loretta Lynn did together. I can’t remember the last time I was so inspired by music! I mean, this wails louder than getting a bj from Angeline Jolie. It stunned me so hard that I had to call Sarahjill right then and freak out like, THIS is what we’re doing. I want to make this kind of music! It’s like the rock has come full circle to its origins of classic country and it just makes me want to dress like Johnny Cash and sing again!

So, now it’s time to stalk her in Nashville. Can you imagine that she’s still playing live?! I mean, she’s only like 112 years old. Loretta = pwnage.

Pink Cadillac Hearse

Dewd. I have a new band. For cereal! It’s in the infancy stages, but I’m pretty sure we shall rise from our painfully humble beginnings like so much phoenix and pwn the faces of the masses! It all started when my sister narked me out to Grandma that I could sing. And Grandma was all, wtf, srsly? And I was all, duh, bitch! So I recruited one of my favorite musicians of all time ever, Sarahjill, to help me put together some old country songs to sing for Grandma’s old folks home.

Prior to preparing for this exclusive and prestigious venue, Sarahjill’s husband asked her if we were going to have a band name. They were driving to the grocery store and she said she hadn’t really thought about it. A minute went by; he glanced at the next lane of cars and asked, “Is that a pink Cadillac hearse?” To which Sarahjill replied, “THAT’S IT! That’s our band name!” Our t-shirts are going to be so cute!

For our debut show at the nursing home, we did a guitar/vocal duet and melted the faces off those old fuckers. It was righteous!!! Check out the enthusiastic zombie-like grunts of approval from our ancient first audience:

So awesome. Good thing none of them died from all the rawkage. Well, a couple of them might have already kicked the bucket before we started, but I'll let you be the judge:

Worst Celebrity News EvAR!

So yeah, I know this happened like weeks ago, but this is the first time I’ve been able to wrench myself away from the pile of blankets and Oreo crumbs that I've been festering in to address the terrible news.

Trent Reznor is engaged to someone that’s not me. /cry

I mean, what; did he not know how lucky he was to get to sit around being my backup plan?! What the fuckity fuck? Our children would have been so adorable and angsty with large nostrils! But alas, it’s clear to me that is, in fact, gay city for he is marrying a tranny. Behold:

I mean, the word queen is in her name. It’s like, sweetie, don‘t put your job title that far up 'cuz you ain’t even THAT good of a cross-dresser. I have seen prettier drag queens with 5 o’clock shadows. But I guess she’s ok if you’re into The (post-op) Grudge. None of which appears to be a very good influence on El Rezbo being as he is looks a bit like the demon spawn of Joey Buttafuco and Gene Simmons:

Oh well…And all that could have been, I suppose. Sans keloid scars, of course.

Mill the Tread

At work, we did this fun little project where we made slides with silly pictures and bullet points about ourselves so that the remote branches of our company can get to know us a bit. I was epically proud of mine:

However, in the process of making it, I had to scroll through like 50 pictures of myself (that were all totally work-inappropriate...typical) and came across this one from a few years ago when I was running every day and I was like, SHIT:

I need to get back on the motherfucking treadmill.

Now I realize that I was 24 and that it is, in fact, an exceptionally flattering pic, but crap! My calves look killer. So killer that one time, some ass-stain once posted a MySpace comment on it that really speaks for itself:

I mean what the shit, right?! You tryin' to say you think I don't look GOOD in person, cocksucker? JESUS FUCK. I've fucking seen YOU several times, tea bag, and I must say...you always look like a baby rapist!

Ah, but I digress! I'm back to running, bitches, so look for my hawt calves again soon, in photo and irl, for they are germinating!

Shut the Fuck Up

So I’m never going to the movie theater again. EvAR! Or at least not without the following things:

A.) A taser
B.) Learning some Vulcan death grip move that immobilizes loud bitches
C.) My big, scary ass boyfriend

I say this because some cereal shat went down while we were minding our own business, watching Taken, and I finally got tired of listening to the fugly couple next to me TALK THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE MOVIE. So, I politely turned to them and said, “Excuse me, but could you please be quiet?” The guy asked, “Are you serious?” And I was all, “Um. Yes.” To which he replied, “Shut the fuck up.” And I went,

“!!!”

“DAN! That guy just told me to shut the fuck up!” And faster than a man his size should be able to move, all 6’5 of Dan uncoiled from his seat and sprang forward, putting one arm as a shield in front of me and the other stabbing an enormous accusatory finger in the asshole’s face, to unleash a quietly threatening diatribe that would have scared the living cornhole out of even Pennywise the Clown. The assbag got one look at Dan and shrank back in his seat like the tiny little penis he was, apologizing profusely.

Neither the psychotic dickhole or his hag girlfriend (who he clearly beats, talking to women that way, right?) got up and leave like they should have after bring pwned so hard in public, but believe me when I say that they were silent little lambs during the rest of the movie. I; however, was so impressed by the swift protectiveness of my giant bear of a man that my uterus fell out on the floor as I stared at him in wanton, growling, teeth gnashing desire. THAT is some hot shit right there. That is so hot, it’s breedable.

Summie likey.

Loltallica

Love and Shooshting in an Elevator

Wow. I’m clearly all pent up. Some terrible elevator love scene totally just got me all percolated on the couch. And dude, it was on the most inappropriate tv show to get worked up about possible. I don’t even want to tell you because it’s too mortifying.

...

It was CSI!

I am shamed.

But hear me out!! It was some scorchingly hot, rich ass silver fox in an elevator with a younger chica, and he looks at her for a minute, then grabs her and totally kisses her, which she’s like wtf at first, then gets into it because he’s smokin’. Then the elevator door opens and he gets shot.

It’s so unfair! Why doesn’t random shit like that ever happen to me? Not the shooting part. Just the hot accidental sexual encounter part. I guess it’s because that’s probably a good way to get The HIV and/or mutilated by a stranger, but it sure looks like fun when you’re on day four of the flu and watching bad tv!

Oh, shitcicles, I’m turning into the little old lady who gets all juiced up on Harlequin Romance novels already!

RezNOr

I had a date with Mr. Reznor. Who wants to touch me? No, but really Lizzard, Nelle, and I went to see NIN in Columbia (Mizzou, whewt!) and we had killer seats right by the stage and danced like whore bags. He totally looked right at me and I was all, “Psssshhht! WhatevAR! You WISH you could have this!” And I’m sure he does, because shit, bitch! He legitimately can’t have this!

What’s funny is that ten years ago, I would have likely punched myself in the uterus in an effort to abort any hypothetical fetuses that might have been growing there to clear the way to bear Reznor’s child. And had you told me that I’d ever think otherwise, I would have laughed in your face and been a huge asshole about it. Lol, cuz I’ve always been such a nice person and all.

So, I guess Trent is still technically on My Freebie List, but seriously, do you know how many skanks he’s put the naughty on over the years? I think Ronald put it best when he said, “I bet his girlfriend has to fuck him up the ass with a strap-on to get him off because there’s so much shit growing on his dick, he can’t get it up anymore.” Indeed.

And dude, let’s not forget that he’s short. And has inferior genes due to his depressos/addiction/small nostrils. And he’s in PETA. OMG, and AA! I can’t roll with a guy who can’t hold his booze! It’s so not hawt.

It’s amazing how clear this shit becomes when you get older, wiser, and find a brilliant, hilarious, and fanfuckingtastic man, ain't it?

Meso Old!

Why is it that every time someone gets engaged I kind of want to barf in their mouth a little? Most of it is the expectant look people give you after their announcement, like they’re waiting for you to justify your own engagement status. Part of it, even after all this time, is just the weirdness of someone getting MARRIED. Especially when it’s someone you used to get so drunk with that you once physically restrained them from beating some bitch over the head with a phone. Ahh, memories!

Embarrassingly not that long ago, I would run away from married people like they had Ebola because I totally thought they underwent a marriage metamorphosis where they suddenly sucked balls and blew you off for hubby all the time. It took my best friend from college getting hitched for me to realize that you’re still YOU when you get married. But that’s a revelation of an extremely stupid and slutty single person, if that tell you anything.

These days, I’m just excited that some of my married bitches are having adorable babies for me to play with, then promptly hand back when they give me a Hot Carl. Whoot!

Caffeine Conspiracy

Dood I swear the waiter dumped a 5 Hour Energy drink or three in my pop at lunch because I’m about to blast off here from the caffeine. I’m like full on chair dancing at my desk to Pitbull. Maybe vibrating in my chair is a more accurate description of what nastiness is going on up in here.

Shit, bitch, I don’t even know where I was going with this except that I’ve clearly had an accidental overdose and need to flee across the street to the titty bar and make some cash doing this then get some fricking ice cream. You know, because the pervy ice cream truck driver pulls up every day, twice a day, to the aptly named Bazooka’s back door *insert juvenile snicker here* and the strippers run out to buy popsicles. And I do mean run. They don’t just walk out like normal humans and get a fucking ice cream; they hop-run in slow motion in their little outfits and ankle-breaking heels and teeter around handing money to the dude. I know this because watch it take place from my fatty window cube which overlooks the back of their building.

Downtown pwns!

OWW WEE Baby, You Make Me Wanna Walk Like a...

Despite my revulsion for the toe variety, I actually love camels. A lot. They are the cutest, smiliest, eyelashiest things you can ride around on through the desert. This is something I really want to do, actually. I am foaming at the mouth to go on a camel safari in Egypt, and yes I am just as excited about trotting around on a belching, spitting, adorable fluffy critter as I am to see Giza. I mean, come on:



The only reason I haven’t done this yet is because the safety section of the U.S. Department of State page is bigger than Lindsay Lohan’s freakish labes. In fact, I don’t know which would be more dangerous: moseying into a terrorist mud pit or banging LiLo. Yeesh. It doesn’t exactly say not to go, but it does kinda say to be effing careful as hell.

Whatever, I guess what I want to know is, do you think it’s cool to go to Cairo, or should I wait out the drama? I mean, Dan is six and a half feet tall and I’m fricking blonde city, so we won’t exactly blend in. I’m worried either way that I’m gonna miss out, which is NOT an option. Do you think shit will get better or worse if I wait? Or should I just say fuck it and not subscribe to terrorism and go anyway?

God DAMN it, I hate terrorists.

SNTYAL

Word, bitches. So I did it. I finally got LASIK. And you know what? It sucked major cornhole. It was scary, hideous, and totally shatastic. The only reason I’m so crabby about it is that I asked a solid 20 people about their LASIK surgery, and they all said the same damn thing:

“Omg, it was SO awesome! It was over in like 4 seconds and I could see everything clearly when I sat up! I could even read my alarm clock for the first time in years. Also, my sex life is better than yours, and my hairstyle makes yours look like rat shit on a plate!”
Right, so thus I’m here to tell you what it’s really like in a brief piece called…
Shit that Nobody Tells You About LASIK:

1. It hurts like a mofo.
Yeah, yeah, they give you a Valium, and yeah they drop shit in your eyes to numb them, but first, they use some instrument to pressurize your fucking eye. YES. And it HURTS. And your vision fades to black. Then, panic ensues. It was at this point in which I completely wigged out and tried to run away. They held me down though, so at least I got it finished.

2. Everyone can watch your procedure.
Uh huh. Like when you shriek and thrash and attempt to flee, your mom is standing out there trying to take video of it and laughing.

3. You totally can’t see for like, evAR.
I’m not bitching tooooo much because I went from 20/800 to 20/40, but as far as being miraculously able to see everything right away? Not so much. I’m still farsighted at the moment, which makes working at a computer all day oodles of fun. It’s better every day and supposedly will continue to imporve, but still wicked on the headache factor.

I hope you enjoyed this edition of Shit that Nobody Tells You About LASIK. Stay tuned as I heal up and find out more exciting heinousness.

Eye Socket to Me!

Well, I had the LASIK consultation. I busted in, took out my contacts, and stumbled around trying not to run screaming out of there while they probed me and scared the living tits out of me (a difficult feat, being as I have none) by telling me all the gory details about the surgery. Then they showed me a video. Cuz you know, nothing makes you want to sign up to have your eyes sliced open than a graphic documentary of someone else’s gooey, sick, gelatinous cornea being zapped.

I sat there in a tightly coiled ball, ready to spring from the chair, straight out the window until I met The Coolest Nurse EvAR who totally talked me off the ledge. She told me about how I would feel during the procedure, which is what I needed to know, because the hideous part for me is not the minimal chance of a complication, but having my eyelids propped open with like, toothpicks and staying conscious while bitches are cutting on my eyes.

Anyway, she helped me picture what how it was gonna go down, and kindly informed me that I would be given a Valium. From what I hear, after I pop that bad boy, I won’t give a flying shit through a rolling doughnut about what they do to my eyeballs. Whee!

Hooray for Elective Surgery!

My eyeballs are ruining my life. I'm so tired of dicking around with correcting my shitty vision. I've worn glasses since I was in 2nd grade and contacts since I was in 6th. I think I deserve a fricking break here.

The catalyst was taking my glasses to the eye docta to have them bent back into shape after a drunken smashing accident, and of course, the minute I got home and put them on, they snapped right in fucking half. (Um, and what's up with things exploding upon my person as soon as I try to wear them? I'm secretly concerned that it could be my hawtness that causes items that would normally cover my beauteous features to burst…)

I don't know. Maybe this is my sign to throw my nuts onto the table and go get LASIK. I'm just scared because while contacts suck more balls than Sienna Miller, they sure beat being completely blind or having gross halos everywhere. And plus, there is still the whole apocalypse thing. When that shit goes down, I'm hosed and essentially blind. Even in the short-term, if someone broke into my house to mutilate me, I couldn't see to kill them in the face/run away. And I guess if I did go completely blind, it wouldn't be all bad 'cuz I could just drape myself in velvet and not give a shit.

What do you think?

When the Annihilatrix Booshes the World

I have recently found myself thinking about the apocalypse…with eager glee. Like, wouldn't it be great for humanity to be thinned out a little? Just the idiots who rape babies, act like ignorant dickholes in movie theaters, and otherwise fail to function in civilized society. I blame Max Brooks for my current obsession with this subject, but I also terrorist fist bump him for bringing it up because it's always good to be prepared, right?

Prior to the day of reckoning (provided that the planet is still inhabitable etc. etc.), I've decided that I need to get the following shit together:

1.) Learn how to use a gun without accidentally killing Dan in the face

2.) Learn to make my own beer

3.) Get a cat carrier like the ones you strap to your chest and put babies in (cuz NO, I'm not leaving Burtie behind)

4.) Get Lasik, or else like I'm really toast

5.) Learn to make/collect clean water

6.) Memorize the local terrain so I can get to safety (i.e. Ronald and DaNelle's cuz you know those bitches will pwn Judgment Day, then produce beautiful spawn which will lead collective humanity back to some semblance of order someday)

7.) Get a serious survival kit

8.) Cultivate a useful trade for post-apocalyptic society, cuz while I am indeed a brilliant tech writer, I don't foresee the need for software manuals so much as like food and shelter

What kinds of end-of-the-world-trade are you hos going to pursue?

Letters of Angst: Part Murder Was the Cayse That They Gayve Me

Dear Lurkey Co-workers,
Why? Why you gotta camp RIGHT outside the World’s Best Shittin’ Bathroom to eat your lunch? Then stare at me like I had just crapped out your whole family when I give up trying to wait you out like 20 min later? Dude, it’s hard enough for me to poo in public without you chatting right outside the goddamn door at Organ of Corti-shattering volumes, but then you make me do the walk of shit shame and you don’t even bother to act like you’re not horrified. Don’t you know it’s common courtesy to pretend like you don’t KNOW what was going on in there? God.
Disgruntles viscera,
Summie


Dear You Tube D-Bags,
You grossly underestimate how much I DO NOT want to hear you sing along with any given song. Like, what do you think is gonna happen from this? That Beck will be Googling himself and see your stupid gay video that you made of yourself sitting at your computer and shrieking “Debra” and think, dang. That girl is amazing. I should bone her? Or maybe you think someone will see it and think you’re amazing and want to bone you as you sign a record deal? Gross! Gross, gross, gross! Like, be productive and go do Karaoke! Or kill yourself! Just stop that stupid shit.
Disdainfully,
Summie

Dear Beast Master,
You pussy. Seriously. One time, the other cat Piper accidentally got shut in a closet for four days and did she piss herself? No. I got home from the trip, heard her yowl, let her out and she furiously bee-lined it for the litter box. But you. YOU. You wander your skinny ass into the closet and get locked in for four HOURS and piss on EVERYTHING in site. Like, dude, I had no idea you could hold that kind of volume in your tiny mass. So I kind of hate you right now and am so tired of drowning in a sea of cat urine that I’m about to skin all of you bitches and wear you as adorable hats/earmuffs.
Febreeze,
Mommy

Bathing Suits are Stupid, Lame

I'm pissed. PISSED! I bought a brand new bikini for this summer, and it was all cute and red and like straight out of my mom's bathing suit selection circa 1986. A-fricking-dorable. I wear the thing twice, and the piece of shit breaks. Like I'm sitting there shoveling a perfectly grilled hot dog into my face and I hear a POP as the bra clasp snapped. Fortunately, I had a tank top on, so at least there was no Girls Gone Wild.

So I'm like fuck, but oh well because I have a backup bathing suit. I go put that fucker on, spend 3 whole seconds in it, and one of the plastic rings on the bottoms exploded. It was like Hiroshima in my pants. Thank god there were no innocent bystanders to A.) get blinded by my pale ass and/or B.) get killed in the face by bikini shrapnel.

And what really pisses me off is that like I'm not even gloriously fat and destroying bathing suits with my delicious big ass. They're just shittily made fake underwear that cost $40. Ug, so now I'm left having to buy yet ANOTHER bikini, which is about as much fun as killing then boiling your own pets.

God damn it.

A Walk Down Memory Pain

How I missed this episode, I'll never know because this was my first two years of high school:



Not only did I totally sit in candle lit rooms, listening to Nine Inch Nails, and wearing torn fishnets, but I had that same god damn notebook full of angsty poetry. And the Denny's thing?! Oh my GOD. We LIVED in that hellhole! Drinking coffee and smoking cloves and ruining poor waitresses lives. Ahh, those were such good times!

And now, I go into Hot Topic because I wish I wasn't so old and decrepit that I could still wear pleather and skulls, and all these little clerk dicks look at me like what the hell are YOU doing in here? And I want to say, listen here, whipper snapper! I was Goth before there ever was even a thought of a national corporate conglomerate in every mall selling this awesome crap, so quit eying me in my Ann Taylor or I'll smear your adorable eyeliner! Bitches!

So, who wants to relive those moments with me and have a Goth party?! 'Cuz believe me when I tell you that I still own all of that shit... :)

Happy Fun Time Party

I made you a pretty!

Nightmare on Blonde Street:

Now it's your turn. I hear if you play along, Megan Fox will appear and give you a happy ending...