my agenda is full, thanks

Lately I’ve decided life is too hard and I’ve been finding it helpful to practice my favorite yoga position – face down on the couch in a pile of blankets. Ever get like that? I mean, seriously… unless someone is dying, don’t bother me. My mind is on vacation and the most important thing on my agenda is to see how many mini marshmallows I can fit in my mouth. (16. The answer is 16.) Thank God my husband hasn’t run away screaming bloody murder from disgust over my aversion to showers the past few days. The cats have taken to avoiding me. Assholes.

When I was finally able to drag my sorry ass out of the house, Alex and I decided to do something fun to lift the mood: bad food and arcade games. It works, guys. 4 out of 5 doctors in the US recommended.

daveandbusters

Yes, that’s fried onion strings. On top of boneless buffalo wings. On top of a a pile of melted blue cheese. On top of a burger. I love America.

kindoftheclaw

Then Alex won me a stuffed polar bear. He is the King Of The Claw Machine.

Yes, I’m 29 and still get excited over my husband winning me a stuffed animal. I’m not embarrassed.

I hope y’all had a great Easter filled with an overabundance of chocolate and jelly beans. Now that I’m functioning like a normal person again, I will be spending time catching up on the blogs I’ve missed.

let’s crush those tomatoes, ladies

While I was reaching for some of my prized Chobani yogurt in the grocery store the other day, a random man grabbed my ass. Believe me when I say – it took all of the willpower I could muster to refrain from turning around and crushing his balls so hard they looked like deflated tomatoes with their guts oozing out. What a prick, right? I looked for Alex to defend my honor but he wandered off and had been lost in the beer aisle at that point. Damn it!

tomatoballs

I’m not sure why anyone would think touching a random person would be a great start to any sort of ‘relationship.’ Especially when one person was wearing a blatantly obvious wedding ring (as I was!) Did he expect me to just escort him to the bathroom and drop my panties for him? Or that we would start a long-lasting and loving relationship from some unwelcome groping? I mean, seriously…has any woman (or man, really) ever had a positive response to something like this? Where the fuck do people get the nerve to grab people?! So many questions, so little answers. 

People, it is never okay to touch a stranger. Don’t grab their ass. Don’t grab their arm. Don’t even poke them. Not. Okay. You copy? Just don’t. ‘Hey, Chobani kicks ass, so you must too’ is a much better ice breaker. Plus, your balls will have a much better chance of making it through the shopping trip without being harmed.

you’re weird, let’s be friends

When I was living in New York, one of my biggest complaints were the people. Sure, there were some good ones around, but it seemed like the majority were complete assholes. If they didn’t ignore you, they went out of their way to be a straight prick. New Yorkers…right? It’s the opposite here in the south. Some days, like today, you get to meet a really odd stranger while picking out some produce. strangerdangercat

Random Guy: Okay, I have to ask. Why are you buying so many jalapenos? What are you making that’s so spicy?

Me: Just jalapeno poppers for the Super Bowl. Nothing crazy.

RG: Oh. Are you sharing them with other people? If not, you are going to be shitting fire for a week straight.

Me: *holds up bag of 35 jalapenos* Yeah. Definitely sharing all of these. No ass-fire for me.

RG:  I did it once. On a dare. I ate 10 whole ones. I felt like there was a zombie baby stuck in my colon and eating me from the inside. I was pretty sure my intestines were going to blow up and I was going to die. What a weird way to die, right? That would be a weird obituary. Death by ass-plosion.  But at the same time, I’d love to make my parents have to deal with that added embarrassment when I’m gone.

Me: … you’re pretty fucking weird.

RG: Yeah, I’m sorry. That was pretty inappropriate to say to a stranger.

Me: No… I’m trying to ask you to be my friend. I love weird. Anyone who has the balls to say ‘ass-plosion’ to a stranger is okay by me.

minionhug

 

Ah… gotta love the south.

GO PANTHERS. WOO!

everything is better with peanut butter

I love food. Not in a ‘oh, this salmon was grilled to perfection’ type of way, more like – ‘I’m going to smother a pan of brownies in melted peanut butter and whip cream and stuff half of it down my gob in one sitting’ type of way. Okay, that might be a bit extreme… but you get the picture. When I heard my favorite grocery store from New York was looking for a place to set roots here in North Carolina, my eyes got a little misty. Then I heard that location might be within 15 miles of my house which made me get mistier in other places. (What can I say? I’m easy to please.) I can’t help but daydream about it coming this way. Mmm Wegmans, you sexy bitch.

eat-it-bitch-asshole-cat-meme

Seriously, is this what my life is now? Getting excited over a 50% chance that a store might open? It used to take a milestone like, you know, getting married or killing a King-Size Reese’s Cup pack without anyone judging me . What’s happening here? Am I getting old? Boring? Predictable?  Hold me.

On another note: Panthers play today. Go out and do your good-luck dance. Eat your game-ritual Cheetos. Put on your lucky boxers. They need to win. If you don’t like the Panthers – eat a dick. (I don’t really mean that. Unless you are into that sort of thing.) 

hands off my fish taco, dog

Well, it’s finally happened. I lost my virginity last night. I have to say — it was pretty magical. We were outside, clutching each other close underneath the Christmas lights.  It was…. perfect.

I finally got to pick out my first-ever live Christmas tree. Woooo. (Come on, guys. I’m married. How sad would it be if I actually was a virgin?) When I was growing up, we always had a fake one. My parents are practical, stuffy neat-freaks. Why the hell would you cut a tree down and bring it inside when it will cause a mess of pine needles all over the floor? Blasphemous! Since our cat is allergic to everything and your mother. (Yes, even YOUR mother. I mean — have you ever heard of a cat allergic to dogs? She’s quite special) We have never had a real tree because we were afraid it would bother her.

christmastreelotSadly, the tree won’t be living in our house due to the cat, but my in-laws still invited us to dinner and to help them pick their two out. For a Christmas fanatic — it tickled my fancy quite a bit.

But, we had a debate last night that needs to be settled. I’m really curious about y’all’s opinions: At the restaurant where we had dinner there was a man with a service dog next to us. He was an emotional support dog. The man was eating alone and sharing all of his food with the begging pup. When the man ran out of fries to supply to him, the dog started begging at nearby tables for random people’s food. Our opinions were all different at the table. If you were sitting at the table with us, what would you be thinking? (I don’t think the poll can be seen on the Reader)

 

everyone should have a food baby in heaven

As an adult, sometimes I dread having to make important decisions. Unfortunately, whether we want to or not, everyone has to do it. It comes with the territory. Like today, after a painstaking hour of determining what the right thing to do was, I decided to turn down going to a “chili challenge” in favor of going running. (You know, those awesome festivals where you leave with a food baby in your stomach after you pack down 15 different flavors of the same food. This is what I imagine heaven is like.)

chili

After I started the run, I had instant regret. It was cold, rainy, muddy, and it left me wanting something hot and comforting. Just like…. chili. Damn it. Screw you, adulthood. Stop trying to make me more responsible.

fallrun

Which one would you choose? Chili tasting or a run? Relaxing or productive? It’s a hard call to make on a Sunday.

On a totally different note: I’m in the process of changing the title, domain, layout, etc. of my blog. It’s going to be some variation of “The Shameful Sheep.” Please keep your eyes peeled, guys. I don’t want to lose any of y’all.

 

the feeling is mutual, Halloween

I’ve never been a big fan of Halloween. I’m pretty sure I’m flying solo on that feeling, considering everyone I know on Facebook has currently stuffed themselves into a costume that barely fits and leaves little to the imagination. (Really… some things are better left unseen, people. Don’t go in public and let your bits and pieces flop around in the breeze.)

But, this year I decided I would give Halloween a chance. I got the candy to hand out. I got the pumpkins to carve for the first time ever. And, damn… after a few hours of fishing pumpkin guts out and carving with Alex — I was proud when I set them outside.

Then, I checked on them a few days later. On top of the pumpkins being completely moldy (that’s not snow)… half of the candy is gone already, too.

halloween2015

I tried to give you a chance, Halloween… but all you’ve done so far is leave me sad and fat. I guess I should just hide inside with the lights off, peering over the flashlight like a crazy person again this year.

(Really, though… I can’t be the only one who doesn’t like Halloween… or am I truly that much of an oddball?)

Also, a note to cat owners: please, please, please make sure your black cats (or any outdoor cats) are brought inside. There are some sick assholes out there.

some tuesday trivia

Fun Fact: The FDA estimates that the average human unintentionally eats up to a pound of bugs a year.

yum… did someone say extra protein?

Also, it’s come to my attention today is National Black Cat Day in the UK. I’m from the US… but, I have a cat. She is black. So, I’m going to force y’all to look at a picture of her anyway. You’re welcome.

blackcatday

how diets and husbands don’t always mix

Every time I start a new diet (which is way more often than I’d like to admit) I always tell my husband not to let me eat specific things.  He always gives me a funny look and says something along the lines of “I don’t know… I really don’t want to tell you when to not eat something…” to which I promise him it’s 100% okay because I’m giving him permission and I want him to. Then a few days later when I want something from the list of forbidden foods, I get pissed at him for having the audacity to tell me I shouldn’t eat it. Seriously, how dare he? I’m a grown ass woman, if I want a piece of cake I’m going to eat a damn piece of cake. Get out of here.

When I feel like starting a diet all over again, I swear up-and-down that this time it’s going to be different. Of course, the cycle always repeats itself.

Poor Alex… marriage has been rough on him.