fun with drugs

I’ve been plagued with the cold-from-hell for over a week and strung out on so much cold medicine I could barely comprehend some of the comments you guys left on my last post. So, I’m sorry if I responded with something that made no sense. It was the drugs. The drugs, I tell you! I’ve been MIA but I’m starting to catch up with everyone’s blogs tonight finally!

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I don’t have the mental capacity to write today so I’m going to do something totally batshit crazy over here and respond to an award nomination I received. Sort of. I’m going to respond to Lady Dickson’s questions because she kicks ass but, instead of nominating people I’m just going to ask YOU guys a couple questions at the bottom so we can get to know each other a little better. We’re all friends here, right? Answer my damn questions then! (kidding, kidding.)

Lady Dickson’s questions for me:

  1. Where’s the farthest you’ve traveled from home? I don’t travel much so… the Caribbean? I’m boring. Someone come take me on vacation! 
  2. If you could have witnessed any major historical event, which would you choose? Is it sad I can’t think of anything? Most historical things that come to mind are tragedies… I think I’ll stick with the present.
  3. What is your go to conversation starter? I don’t have one as I try not to start conversations! The woe of a socially awkward crazy lady.
  4. Why did you start a blog? To meet and connect with people while doing something I love (writing)
  5. What is your favourite and least favourite word? Slice/Mortified (Not sure why it’s my favorite, but I sure say it a lot !)
  6. Have you ever been stung by a bee? Five too many times
  7. Who is your favourite comedian? Nick Swordson (A totally random but totally hilarious guy)
  8. Which cartoon character is your spirit animal? Garfield.garfield
  9. What movie have you walked out on/did you wish you walked out on? Anchorman. I walked out on it the first time I saw it. Then I watched it again at home a year later and loved it. Not sure what my deal was the first time around.
  10. How many cats is too many cats to own? Is this a joke? You can’t have too many cats…

Here are my questions for y’all: 

  1. If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?
  2. Would you rather be forced to wear fish-scented deodorant all day, or pants made out of bologna? 
  3. If you could punch somebody you know in the face right now, who would it be and why? (Someone you know! I know everybody wants to punch Trump already lol)
  4.  Who is your favorite blogger and why? Share their link!

Answer some or all!

thanks but no thanks

You know when you’re down on your luck, going through a terrible time, and all you want to do is drown yourself in a vat of melted chocolate? Then, you lean on your loved one for support and they say, “don’t worry, everything happens for a reason.” Really? Am I the only one who gets stabby over this saying? My dog got run over for a reason? How comforting.

itsucks

Now, obviously people say this because they think they are helping, so I can’t fault them too much. I’m equally bad at comforting people. I never know what to say, so I just try to smile and offer to buy them pizza. “Oh, you lost your job? Does that mean you want your pizza with extra cheese then?” I’m terrible at it. Once my friend was crying because her boyfriend suddenly broke up with her and I tried to make it better by doing a dance for her. I even made up a song to go with it. It made her cry harder. Oops.

Be careful who you say ‘things happen to a reason’ to. Things are more personal than that. Things are more traumatic than that. There is no good reason for many things to happen – rape, cancer, infertility, child abuse/molestation, the list goes on.

(PS – Nothing traumatic is happening to me, and I don’t even own a dog. No worries, friends)

i’m a skilled magician

In 2014, I ghosted my best friend of 15 years. You know, totally fell of the face of the Earth and dropped all forms of contact with her. I’m not proud of it. There is no denying this is the coward’s way out. But sometime’s you’ve gotta gotta fight fire with fire when you’re dealing with toxic people, and in this case, fighting with fire means doing some totally cool and unnerdy magic tricks and making myself disappear. Abracadabra!

toxicpeople

(Photo credit goes to littlebiddy. Go check out their blog!)

I was trying to end my friendship with her years ago… and then she got engaged to my brother. Awkward, right? It wasn’t worth it  to put my entire family at war with each other, so I dealt with her. Even when she broke into my house. Then again when she stole money from me. I even shrugged it off when she told me she had a thing for my dad. (100% true. Sick, isn’t it?) When they called their engagement off, she told me, “It’s no big deal. I’m realizing now I didn’t care about being married to your brother, I just wanted to be part of your family so bad.” Her obsession with my family still gives me the heebie-jeebies.

Part of me wishes I went about it more maturely. Part of me wishes I was more outspoken about it. Part of me doesn’t regret it at all. This chick was toxic and brought out the worst in me. It was pure insanity.

Life is just too short for some of this bullshit.

Some people just shouldn’t be in your life, you know? Have you ever been ghosted? Ghosted someone? Had someone date your sibling or want to bang your dad? Cringe

(PS – The majority of people don’t deserve to be ghosted. People deserve closure. Unless they steal your shit and break into your house, do them a favor and just let them know why you don’t like them and honor them by telling them to piss off. Being up front always works.)

now accepting applications

Today my social anxiety and awkwardness claimed another victim. I really don’t know how I’ve made it so long without being monitored in public. I need to hire an adult nanny so they can help me from making a fool of myself. All I need is a social companion. Do those exist? Should I hire someone? Anyone need a job hanging out and being emotional support to a woman on the brink of crazy-town? Unlimited Wi-Fi and Diet Coke available. Games and activities like Exploding Kittens and brownie-eating-competitions will be provided. (Just don’t blow up my real cats, okay?)

(This started as a joke, but now there’s a part of me that really wants to hire someone who will do all of that with me. A sad testament to how little friends I have that it’s come to the point I’d consider paying someone to be one. Loser alert. It’s hard being an adult.)

makingfriends

On to today’s victim in the pharmacy: 

Woman: Excuse me, I know you don’t work here… but can I ask you something?

Me: Sure. Unless it’s about condoms. I don’t use those so I don’t really have any legitimate advice on them. If I were you, I’d go with the ones that emphasize the woman’s pleasure though. Why the hell not, right? You’re the one here buying them. It’s okay being selfish sometimes.

Woman: Oh…

Me: I know what you’re thinking, but it was an educated and personal decision of ours. I’m married. Happily married even!

Woman: … I was just going to ask you if you knew where the Claritin was…

Me: Oh.. uh.. sorry. It’s right over there. Next to the hemorrhoid creams. Which, thankfully, I also don’t need to use. *nervous laughter*

*Woman stares at me with wide eyes and runs away*

hey, suck on this

I go to the post office multiple times a week, so lately I’ve been trying to befriend the women who work there. It’s proven to be difficult because, let’s face it, most government employees have the personality of a sullen teenager who’s mastered the art of sighing and being an asshole at the same time. Good job, guys! Way to set the bar high.

Since I see the same few women every time I go, I try to be as friendly as possible even though it’s normally met with restraint. Today I crafted a plan to get on their good side. I was going to bring them what all adults want in their mouths – lollipops. What person doesn’t like lollipops, right? They would love me after this. Pure genius.

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Post Office Lady: How are you today? Anything liquid, fragile, perish—-

Me: I brought you lollipops! The good ones… with the gum in the middle.

Lady: Oh, uh, thanks? I guess? That was….thoughtful of you.

Me: You’re welcome. I’m here all the time so I thought it would be a step in the direction of a new friendship between us.

Lady: Sure. Anything in the box liquid, fragile, perishable or explosive?

Me: Nope. Unless cocaine is perishable haha. I’m just kidding. Seriously, that was a bad joke. It’s not cocaine.

Lady: ……

Me: It’s just weed. Gotcha! *slaps knee* I’m here all night, folks.

Lady: I’m going to need you to wait here…

 

Lesson Of The Day – There is such a thing as ‘too much, too soon.’ Don’t force awkward jokes with strangers when you have nothing else to talk about. And… drugs are not a good topic to bring up, especially when you are standing in the middle of a government building.

‘Word Vomit’ … it’s a real thing, guys!

i don’t want your organs

I recently stumbled upon a blogger who was reviewing a local restaurant right down the road from me. It made me pretty excited, so I posted a comment and tried to connect with her. I really had no intention of meeting this person, I just wanted to tell her how much I agreed with her good review and next time she should get the Bacon & Pimento Cheeseburger because it will give her a mouthgasm. (If you don’t know what Pimento cheese is, you’re not living life.)

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Well… she never responded to me. I figured I might come across a bit crazy in my writing, so I thought reaching out to her in an email would clear my name and make her feel more at ease:

“Hi!

I commented on your post recently and I’m worried I came across weird and freaked you out. Don’t be scared. I didn’t want to meet up with you or anything like that. I know I come across a little crazy on my blog… but I assure you I’m more of a “I made my 8-year-old niece try a dog treat crazy” rather than a “I’m going to find your house and harvest your organs crazy.” Speaking of your house, the one on your Bio page is so cute. So is your dog. If you want to be friends, I’m just down the road.

-Blair”

 

Pretty sure I made it worse. You win some, you lose some right?

 

Lesson of the Day : If you want to make new friends off the internet, don’t mention living down the road from them and harvesting their organs in the same paragraph.

PS – I promise… I’m really not crazy! Well, not serial killer crazy at least.

 

 

(Photo Credit goes to sal0)

hey, you gotta pay for that!

It seems like the caliber of friends I’ve met through blogging is a lot higher than the friends I have in person. That’s the best part of blogging, really – the people. All my friends want to talk about in person is their marriage, kids, work, or how long it took their mother to shovel all the boringdrinkersnow off her balcony in Maine so Fido can get out to poop in case it’s urgent. Blah blah blah blah blah. Enough is enough already! For the love of God – no more. I’d rather hang out with the majority of fellow bloggers I’ve talked to over my friends in person. Crazy, right? (Hey… I’ve given y’all fair warning that I’m weird.)

Well, I’m finally getting back to sharing guest posts that I’ve been slacking on lately. And, don’t worry – this blogger is a lot funnier than my friends in real life. So, you’re welcome. Make sure you’re you visit Lady Dickson on her blog. She is piss-your-pants-funny. Or diaper. Don’t worry… this is a judgment-free zone so we embrace all differences.

Let’s get on with it then:


 

In 2013, my husband and I went on a 6 month tour of Europe. On our stop in Portugal, we decided “hey, let’s go to Morocco since it’s right there” and off to Morocco we did. Gotta love last minute decisions like that. Here’s the thing, I’ve been to third world. I went to Thailand in 2008 and it was a friggin blast. But this seemed like a completely different kind of third world. Whilst in Thailand, I could use the public bathrooms whenever I wanted without paying. Coming over to Morocco, and a lot of Europe I might add, I had to start paying to urinate.

What the fuck is this nonsense. I ate your food, I drank your water, I paid my bill, and now you want me to pay to extract all dis bidniz you supplied out of my body? That shit cray.

Naturally, as I am not used to doing so, I forget to bring my change purse with me to the bathroom of this one rooftop restaurant located in the centre of Marrakesh. Thankfully, there was no one on guard to give money to so I figured this was a rare free washroom. SCORE. I know where I’m coming from now on to drop trou.

During my healthy dump, I hear a woman screaming at someone in Arabic and think “oh man, I would hate to get yelled at in a language I don’t know.” Turns out, she was yelling at me but I was completely clueless of it. The second I stepped out of the stall, she was all up in my grill pointing at her dish beside the door. Naturally, I looked like a deer caught in headlights and threw my hands in air and kept repeating “I don’t know what you’re saying…” Obviously, I needed to leave some money in the dish beside the door.

MY BAD.

Now I had to somehow tell her I don’t have money on me.

Me: I don’t have any money on me.
Woman yelling in Arabic.
Me: I don’t….have any…money on me. *flipping my pockets inside out*
Woman yelling in Arabic.
Me: Not…sure where to go from here.

So I just try to leave but she barricades herself against the door. Perfect, this is going well. I just fold my arms, look at her, and tap my foot on the ground. With how long this is taking, my husband must be thinking I am murdering this toilet.

Finally, I had enough of this. I started screaming my husbands name in a zero percent passionate way. I mean, this was not the womans fault. Some white chick who doesn’t know how to follow the rules popped a squat all willy nilly and girlfriend needs to get PAID. I was willing to pay her, I JUST NEEDED MY GODDAMN COIN PURSE.

After screaming my husbands name for about a minute, she finally gives in. She moves out of the way and lets me out of the bathroom. As I’m leaving, she starts yelling at me again and I just sprint up the stairs to the roof, grab my husband and we gone.

My coin purse never left my side after that..

ladydicksonRight before the hostage shituation.

get out of my house

kneelingforgodLast week, I was asked by a friend to go to mass with her on Ash Wednesday. I’m not sure if she felt like I was in need of some holy intervention or she was just being friendly but, after much hesitation I figured, ‘why the fuck not?’ What’s the worst that could happen? The communion will give me diarrhea and I’ll have to step over everyone while they’re kneeling in the pew? I’ll trip and my boobs will accidentally fall out of my shirt in front of the poor virgin priest and his ragtag band of alter boys? I could survive those, right? No problem.

Well… I made it about twenty minutes in before I was convinced I was dying.

Me: Do you think it’s hot in here? I’ve got some swamp ass brewing.

Friend: No… I’m actually kind of chilly. Are you okay?

Me: Well… this is it. I’m dying. I’ve crossed into God’s house, and he’s striking me down and it’s only a matter of time until I burst into flames. This was bound to happen. I’m a terrible person.  Yesterday I stole an extra cracker from the sweet old lady handing out samples at Publix. It wasn’t even good but I couldn’t help myself. Who does shit like that? WHO?

Random Guy Next To Me: Everyone. Everyone does that.

Me: Oh. Really? That makes me feel better. Do you also try to secretly grope your spouse in public when you think no one is watching? God could be pissed at me for that. I’m pretty handsy. Do you do that, too? It would make me feel a lot more relieved if you did. You seem like a regular here and God hasn’t smited you yet.

Guy: Uh… can you stop talking to me?  You’re making me uncomfortable.

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I don’t think I’m welcome there anymore. 

Do churches give you anxiety? I grew up in a religious family and I’m pretty familiar with them. Yet… they still scare the shit out of me. What the hell?

Everyone stay safe out there. There’s some bad weather brewing.

cops, dildos, and guest posters. oh my

Sometimes it’s nice to have a friend that’s a cop so you can ask them burning questions like: ‘would you take diarrhea as an excuse for speeding home?‘ I don’t know any cops in real life – I think they can sense the crazy and steer clear of me until they get the phone call that forces them to my doorstep. Because they know it’s coming someday. Lucky for me, I found a cop-friend here in blogland.(And yes, I asked him about the diarrhea & speeding question.) He runs a humor blog that chronicles the random and crazy shit that goes on during his shift. It’s like watching the crazies on the show Cops, but reading it instead. It’s hilarious and semi-alarming (because people are so dumb.) But… don’t laugh at people’s idiocy, guys. That would be wrong. So very wrong. (Says the chick that loves laughing at idiots)

So, without further ado –  here’s a post from my hilarious cop-friend, Badge415, about a fellow officer’s run in with a used dildo:


 

“One night I pulled up to a traffic collision scene in which a vehicle had collided into a wall. The suspect vehicle was an SUV and its rear door was open. I walked up to the vehicle and saw an officer frantically rubbing his hands with an alcohol wipe. In fact, he was rubbing his hands so fast I thought the friction was going to start a fire.

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He had a worried look on his face as he said, “Do you have any hand sanitizer.”

“No. Why?”

He then walked over to the suspect vehicle and showed me something that looked like a pink hammer. As I got closer, I saw it was a sex toy.

“What the heck is that?” I asked.

He said, “I was patting him down and I pulled that out of his pocket. The guy told me he used that on his girlfriend tonight.”

The officer wasn’t wearing gloves at the time and I busted up laughing. I laughed so loud someone would’ve wondered what was wrong with me. The poor officer didn’t think it was that funny though. He actually had a traumatized look on his face and I couldn’t blame him. I then took my phone out and snapped a picture of the thing.

Of course, the story was told over and over again after that. Everyone had the same look of shock and disgust when they saw the picture and heard the story.

download-1

A few days later, I was in Target when I saw this curling iron on one of the main aisles. I instantly thought of the cop when I saw it. I sent him a picture hoping he would think it was as funny as I did. Luckily he was cool about it.

This was just one of those stories that had to be told.”

Make sure you visit him. He has some great stories on his blog


 

Lately, I’ve been thinking about having guest posters here once in awhile. I don’t have the mental capacity to post every day (seriously, how do y’all do it? I can sit down after 2 days of not posting, and still draw a blank.) So, I thought it would be cool to share some funny stories from other people. Maybe you have a blog you don’t want to write inappropriate stories on, or it would be too off topic, or… you just want to share something hilarious with the kickass readers here. Well… I enjoy a good sex, poop, any embarrassing or funny personal story in general. I don’t run a classy joint, contrary to popular belief. Okay, I’m pretty sure nobody believes that. 

(I’ve never done this before, and I’m feeling very much like the new-kid. Are there protocols? Common courtesies? Secrets I should know about? Help a girl out.) If you have a story you want to share, you can email me @ theshamefulsheep@gmail.com

 

 

that’s not weird or anything

Over Christmas, I stood in the middle of a dirty and crowded Wal-Mart aisle for twenty minutes considering whether or not to buy a toy moped that matched the cat-like Monster High dolls my 9-year-old niece has. I mean, this thing was pretty damn awesome – you could decorate it with stickers, the black ‘paint’ was super shiny with zebra stripes, and I knew her dolls would look really awesome zooming around on it in their cute dresses and their perfectly high-lighted hair flying behind them. She’d love it. No doubt. I knew this would make her Christmas. Until Alex pointed out that it wasn’t what she asked for.

monsterhighscooter

I honestly felt a little bit disappointed. I looked forward to her opening it, then asking me to play with her. Then, I realized there’s a 98% chance I’m teetering on the brink of insanity because I thought it was so cool I considered buying the damn dolls and their matching moped for myself.  Nobody would know, right? Alex wouldn’t tell my secret. A 29-year-old married woman starting her own Monster High collection… that’s not too weird or anything. (Except…it is 100% weird as hell and someone should have busted into that Wal-Mart and bitch slapped me across  the face two times. Once for thinking of buying it. Twice for going into Wal-Mart in the first place.)

The truth is – I don’t think I’ll ever grow up. I still zip my high-heel boots up over my hidden Batman socks. I prefer seeing an animated family movie over any other genre.  Feeding the ducks and making a stuffed animal at Build-A-Bear seems like a great afternoon. A game of Clue and hot chocolate tops off the perfect night. I don’t know how I ended up so weird.

Which leads me to a… Fun Fact: People with awkward and weird personalities tend to make the best friends. 

So… anyone want to come play a rousing game of Clue with me while Finding Nemo plays in the background? Bonus – I even have some peppermint hot chocolate leftover from Christmas to share.