Poop and Punches and The Application

Well it's my last night of vacation. It is at this point that I really REALLY wish I was independently wealthy and did not need to work. I wish I could board a plane right now and head somewhere tropical. Any of you out there reading this wish to help make that dream a reality? T minus 13.5 hours until I return to the land where children throw poop and punches. I guess it's a good thing, though. Restraining children is how I stay in shape (you think I'm kidding, don't you? You should see my arms. The definition in them is not from lifting the remote.)

I don't really have anything awesome to say today. Wait. Who am I kidding? Everything I say is awesome. Duh.

So looking through some of my writings I have stashed away I found what follows. One of my friends and I were talking one day about various things and the sorry excuses for gentlemen out there so it inspired me to write it. I had forgotten about it (it's in a different folder than my current project) until I saw it tonight. I cracked myself up while I was writing it (when DON'T I crack myself up, though?) so hopefully it brings a smile to you, too.


There are applications to get a job, there are applications to get a house, there are applications to buy a car, there are applications to get into to college, there are even applications to get a cell phone; so why shouldn’t there be an application for dating? In a society filled with the horrific things we see on the news every single day why not screen the people that want to buy a little of our time? Not only do we have to worry about gun wielding lunatics, but we also have to worry about the wolves disguised in sheep’s clothing that are only searching for tail. Failed relationships, and heartbreak after heartbreak, it’s high time that one stops settling for “Mr. Good Enough for Right Now” and finds “Mr. Right”. So here it is…

The Application To Date Me

Full Name _______________________________________

Date of birth __________________________

Do you have a criminal record (if yes, you best be explaining, but don’t start holding your breath) ______________________________________________________

Do you do any drugs ____________

Do you smoke ______________

How tall are you _______________

What color are your eyes _____________________

How long was your longest relationship _____________________

Have you ever cheated on a girlfriend _______________________

What is the most important thing in a relationship ____________________

Do you like to read _________________________________

What church do you go to _______________________________

If you don’t regularly attend church what are your religious beliefs ________________________________________________________________________

Highest grade completed in school _________________________

Are you close with your family __________________

Do you have any siblings _______________________________________________________________________

Where were you raised _______________________________

What High School did you attend ______________________________

Have you ever been married or engaged __________________

Do you have any children ______________

Do you want children (if yes how many) _______________________________

What kind of car do you drive ___________________________

Do you have your own house/do you live alone ________________

What do you do for a living and how many hours/week do you work _______________________________________________________

What kind of music do you listen to _________________________________

What are your top five bands of all time ________________________________________________________________________

What are your top five movies of all time ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

What do you do in your free time _______________________________________________________________________

Do you drink alcohol often __________________________________________

Do you drink coffee _________________

Do you like to dance ____________________

What are your top five priorities in life ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

How do those change if you are in a relationship ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

What do you think about the military _______________________________________

Are you a republican or a democrat ________________________________________

Who sings “Yellow Ledbetter” __________________________________________

What is your favorite color _____________________________

What song do you secretly rock out to when no one is around to make fun of you for liking the song _________________________________________________________

What is your favorite type of food _________________________________________

What is your favorite holiday ___________________________________

What is your favorite season of the year ___________________________

Do you like the rain ________________________________________

Do you like thunder and lightning _______________________

What is your perfect date ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Do you believe in ghosts _______________________________

Do you believe that people can have a sixth sense _____________________________

Do you believe in love at first sight _____________________________

Do you believe everything happens for a reason _________________________

Do you believe in soul mates ________________

Do you have any piercings or tattoos ________________________________________________________________________

Are there any typos or grammatical errors in this application ___________________

Is there anything else I should know about you that I did not ask ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Any psychological disorders, psychopathic tendencies, are you a fugitive from Russia ______________________________________________________________

Did you enjoy filling this out __________________________________________

Are you smiling or laughing right now _____________________________

Where do you see yourself in five years ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

What is your phone number _______________________________________________

Can you give me the fairytale _____________________________________________

Bold Sins, Loving Touch and CRAISINS,

I should start by saying that I love Craisins. That's it. I love them. I am eating them now (I say "eating" because there is no sort of "snacking" with these babies.) and I can't stop. Maybe I should boil them down and mainline them. I may or may not need a support group.

Speaking of love...

I love Hugh Laurie. I pretty much think that he and I should be married. We could get married and serve Craisins at the wedding. Sweet Jesus, why haven't his people called me yet to arrange this fantastic idea?

*sigh*

Whatever.

Is it just me or, after a certain amount of time passing, do you just not remember how much you truly enjoy human touch. I'm not talking about high fives and hugs from friends and family (or restraining children -- no matter how gratifying that may be....), I'm talking about the touch from someone who looks at you and knows that you're the one that they want to be with. When you've had it for a while and it suddenly goes then, of course, you miss it a whole lot. After months, you seem to miss it less, then after years you seem to forget. You forget how nice it is to be wanted, to be held.

Or maybe we don't forget.

Maybe we convince ourselves that we don't need it, no, convince ourselves that we don't want it.

Whatever it is, bitterness or becoming jaded over time, I don't know, but I do know that no matter how much one (read: me) tries to ignore the long for someone's touch, or use that longing to enhance her comic repertoire, there's an undeniable void that can only be filled by Craisins. I seriously fucking love these things. Anyways the void can only be filled by someone who reciprocates the feeling you cast to them. Maybe it's the serious influx of shitty romantic comedies (who the fuck am I kidding? I love them and I wish that life -- more specifically, mine -- played out like they do) but it's been a few years since I've had that somebody, since I've had that touch and I realize, a little more each day how I miss it. Now, don't get me wrong. There's definitely the need for carnal, clothes tearing off, throw you up against the wall touch, too, and I love that (Seriously, I really love that kind), but what I miss more is someone to be here. I miss it all. Being goofy, silly, ridiculous, and sarcastic; I miss staying at home cooking and eating together (do you know how ridiculously depressing it is to eat alone?), or goofing off in a store with products that the seller is stupid enough not to put into 30 layers of packaging, or debating song lyrics while driving (or drinking) (but not both at the same time because that would be bad) shit. DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE. Okay, I think I redeemed myself there. Whew. Shit. 20 points for the movie (and a 1/2) reference I made back yonder. Enough sappy shit. Jeez.

Whatever.

So I went grocery shopping today with the intentions of cooking more (1 so that I actually eat and 2 so when I do eat it's not just cereal or eggs.). My grampa and gramma would be proud of what I bought and with what I plan to cook them into. Actually I know that they are, in fact, proud because (you bet your ass) I called them and told them exactly everything I purchased and what my meal plans are. I did this because (I am a 5 year old, apparently) I am excited to take a positive step in the "grown up" world (I'm 29, I suppose I should at least make a baby step to being an adult).

ANYWAYS

I went shopping and this woman and her two kids apparently thought the aisles of Fred Meyer were the illegitimate love child of a basketball court and a boxing ring. I'm not kidding. These fuckers had me boxed in at the eggs. I am minding my own business making sure that the eggs I am choosing are not broken (learned from experience on that -- ALWAYS check your eggs) when I turn around and the two kids have the basket in the middle of the aisle (people were actually having to bump their cart in order to pass) as the kids are pulling UFC moves on each other while screaming and laughing hysterically. Mom, instead of telling her kids to take 20 cc's of CALM THE FUCK DOWN is 15 feet away at the cheese where she proceeds to throw two packs of shredded cheese into the cart as if she's shooting the 3 at the buzzer. WHERE THE FUCK DO THESE PEOPLE COME FROM and why do they inevitably find their way to me?! Oh. I forgot to add that both of the children were wearing moon boots, too. FOR FUCKS SAKE.

By the way I should throw out that I absolutely LOVE Chelsea Handler.

and

I am excited to see the movie He's Just Not that Into You because it is one of my favorite books (so hilarious, but every word of it is SO true). If you haven't read the book then you need to do so. Now. The movie looks hilarious. If the movie is not good then I will be unable to post anymore blogs (wipe the excitement off your face, asshole, the movie doesn't come out until Feb 6) because I will be in prison for 1. killing those who made the movie and 2. clubbing baby Koalas because if I'm going down then I'm going in a blaze of glory.

So I should go now because I'm tired of being clever and the kind of brilliance I emit is exhausting.

Until next time, kids, remember my friend T's motto: "If you're gonna sin, then sin boldly." And there you have it.

s.

Earthquakes, Stereotypes, Photo Ops, and Crudeness Exuded

The day started out as any other. Except it didn't. Apparently it was vital for my neighbor to move out of her apartment this morning at 0700 with approximately 47 of the largest, loudest stomping, furniture dropping retards in the northern hemisphere. I tried to ignore it, but the constant earthquake thundering up and down our adjoining stairwell had other plans. So I got up and drank some coffee.

Oh. By the way, MFL and I are starting up our own business. We are still in the planning stages right now, but moving along nicely. We do lots of research for the up and coming business and today that research included attending Portland's Bridal Show held annually at the convention center. This research project is fantastic for several reasons:

1. MFL, as previously mentioned, is as inappropriate as I am. There is no "marginally" in front of it, either. We are WHOLLY inappropriate all of the time. Especially if the situation calls for acting like a respectable adult. So spending any time whatsoever with her is guaranteed fun.
2. Free cake. Who doesn't love cake? Especially when it's free.
3. There will undoubtedly be a lot of things (read: people) there to make fun of. Loudly.
4. Free cake.
5. Pretending to be a bride and then watching the excitement fade off the vendors' faces when you say "Just kidding" after they just spent 10 minutes selling you on the special they're running for today only! while 7 other real brides have come and gone.
6. Free.
7. Cake.

Let the fun begin. I show up to MFL's house and we immediately start discussing books (again) as she shows me her new ones and old favorites (we're such dorks). Her husband, CR, steps in to say 'hello' and we chat. **sidebar** MFL and CR may be the most fantastically cute and perfect pairing since Whiskey and Coke or Smith and Wesson. I lurve their stupid faces so bad.

Whatever.

Anyways so MFL and I are driving to the show and as we pull up behind a car stopped at a red light we feast our eyes on what reinforces every stereotype and joke regarding Mexicans.

MFL: What the shit? There's like 30 people in that car.
me: W. T. F.
MFL: Seriously what is going on in there?
me: It's a Ford Taurus wagon, right? Not a clown car?
MFL: I wonder how they all got in there. It doesn't look like it would be easy. Or quick. hehehe quickandeasy hehehe
me: Does it make me horrifically politically incorrect if I point out that they're all Mexicans?
MFL: No because that's exactly what my first thought was.
me: Nothin like reinforcing every stereotype there is. Oh well. Where the fuck am I supposed to turn to get into this joint?

So we get into the place and immediately begin our commentary. On everything.

me: Would it be poor form if I started hitting on random guys I see?
MFL: I don't think so, except most of them are probably here with their fiances.
me: Hmpf. I wonder what the odds are. Shit.
MFL: Shit, that bitch stole my outfit.
me: Who?
MFL: The one in the poor fitting prom dress and ugly face


So we get through the line and get in this shit show. There are already lots of people and I hate them all already. On the bright side, though, we found me 3 new boyfriends (one of which MFL named Jerry. As in CURL because he. had. one. and an ugly face) and her 6 new husbands (sorry CR). There were some PRIME pickins there today, folks! Seriously. Jerry curls, Shmans, and Boat Captains (in full regalia)! If you didn't go in with a fiance you could surely leave with one! SCORE! All this and we haven't even hit the cake yet. Fuck. Iwantsomecakedammit!

Ahhh. Cake.

So we meander, push, and kick through the hordes of blushing brides to be for the next hour and a half receiving a, disappointingly, small amount of stink eyes from anyone who overheard anything that we said. On our journey we stumble across some very excited, dancing, DJ's (MFL: You should totes go give that hot DJ guy your number. me: Those guys have to be wasted to be doing that. MFL: It's okay, just sleep with him. me: I can't do that because I would feel like I'm being deceitful MFL: Oh fine. You with your morals and shit. Damn you. Come on though, it's just sex. me: I can't, but that would make a fun story, wouldn't it. Seriously, though, they have to be wasted right now!) Anyways we come across a vendor for photo booths and we partake. We walk away and celebrate how fantastic we and our new photo booth photos are. Next we sit down to the "Fashion Show" and proceed to offend about 20 more people (fuck em, we thought it was hilarious that the first "girl" looked more like a man who didn't know "she" was a man yet.) MFL states loudly This shit is a waste of my time I'm not looking for a dress. We decide to walk away from the "fashion" show and go covert ops to the photo booth vendor to take another set of photos (so we could each have a set, duh.). So we come up with a sneak attack plan to get our second photos and we get there and realize that the photo booth lady (not the dude that was there our first time around, Score!) there is occupied with some broad whining about something. We sneak right in and take a second round of pictures. When we come out and are waiting for the pictures the lady is no longer occupied and begins to offer us a brochure, but then stops and gives us the stink eye oh. You've already been through. That's kind of... Shit. She's on to us. We grabbed the pics and left her midsentence.

We've done enough damage, let's get the shit outta here.

I'm pretty sure that the enormity of fun that was had, and crudeness exuded, does not translate into this post, but it doesn't matter. I don't care and if you can't figure out hilarious MFL and I are then we won't like you anyways.

Gotta go, reruns of Grey's Anatomy are on.

Don't judge me, asshole.

s.

16 Days, Hot Mess, and an Unsexy Addiction

So I'm pretty sure I love Urban Dictionary. Why haven't I discovered this sensational beauty of inappropriateness before today? I mean, there are but a few who match me in my poor form (except, of course, MyFriendLisa --MFL-- who gives me quite the run for my money and, more often than not, comes out ahead.) Anyways, the point is, that I, being wholly inappropriate most all of the time, should be in contact with this wonderous creature of Urban Dictionary every. single. day. Where else will you find the definition for "Douchechill" (which was apparently used in the show Arrested Development, that I also haven't seen. Seriously, where the fuck have I been?!)? To demonstrate the brilliance in a sentence: "Prince Headbang's father, Headbang Sr, is a real Douchechill."

So what's my point on here.

I was asked the other day by someone if I had thought of jump starting my writing career on the internet. He didn't particularly mean a blog, but this will have to do since I already have one and I'm not technologically savvy enough (read: I am a moron) to figure out any other way. If nothing else this will at least help me do some sort of writing (to write at least something, even if only a few lines, everyday is my goal) even if there are only 6 people who read it. Haha, suckas!

Whatever.

So I've been on vacation for the last 16 days. It's fucking fantastic. I haven't done anything special or gone anywhere, but I have done quite a bit of relaxing (which was much, no make that MUCH, needed). I have read 4 books, made a blanket for my cousin's new baby, spent a lot of time with family, spent even more time at Powell's (I have an addiction), and got a wisdom tooth pulled (Sexy, huh?). Today I soaked up every second of the sun that was humanly possible. It was absolutely beautiful. I spent the day reading on my balcony (I know, exciting, right?). The air smelled so clean and crisp, the birds flew through a cloudless sky, and the wind blew, but not too much. I closed my eyes and for a moment it felt like I was on the beach (which is where I should have been, but I wasn't because I am a retard and sat at home instead of driving to the coast where it was 65 degrees) and for that second my life was perfect. And then the neighbor's 3 year old came out to play. He was tough shit on his big wheel. He raced all around, screaming all the while. And then he fell off of it. Of course I started laughing (why would you ever doubt me?). You don't need to say it, I profess it often: I AM AN ASSHOLE. So I'm laughing, loudly, looking for this kids parents to come scoop him up. Where was this kid's parents? Oh yeah. Not there. They watched from the balcony of their apartment. WTF? Super parenting, folks.

The moral of the story is that I'm glad I'm on vacation, but wonder why I can never escape the horrific parenting and the hot mess of it's products that litter this society.

Until the next inappropriate moment of my life presents....

s.