Tag Archives: me!!!!!!!!!!

I Give Up

18 Apr

Y’all can stop fighting over who’s going to take me to Atlas Shrugged Part One the First Part because Ed’s review told me everything I needed to know.* It sounds horribly painful. And not in a fun way.

Scoregasm called it with the comparison to Battlefield Earth, although this movie is clearly worse. Obviously, I am not tough enough for it, as I was incapable of watching Battlefield Earth for more than twenty minutes before I had to turn it off for fear that I would have a brain aneurysm. And that shit was in space. I fucking love space!

I don’t think it’s even worth watching in hopes that I can make hilarious (to me) jokes about it. I can already tell that it is so mind-suckingly awful that it would be like wading into Freeperville, and only the best alchemists can turn that kind of shit into comedic gold (see also and also, too). Needless to say, I am not one of them, and if turning thirty has taught me anything, it’s to accept my limitations. I sadly admit defeat.

*No need to thank me for the immense amount of traffic my blog will provide, Ed. No, really. The pleasure’s mine.

TANGENTIALLY RELATED UPDATE: I hate people who take a dump in a public restroom and don’t have the courtesy to stick around for ten seconds and take the responsibility for a second (or third) flush when it’s needed. Nobody wants to see your fecal leavings. WHO IS JOHN GALT?

Okay, Now Y’all Are Just Fucking with Me

12 Apr

“cankle porn pics”?

I shan’t be back!

More Fun with Search Terms!

11 Apr

Apparently someone found my blog today via the search phrase “women who fuck for money”.

Look, I could easily charge if I wanted, but I don’t, because I’m just that nice. I’m like the Mother Theresa of sex.

UPDATED TO ADD A COMPLETELY UNRELATED SLICE OF LIFE: I just heard my neighbor say that she had forgotten that she has a ten-page paper due in the next four weeks and she’s really nervous because there’s no way she can get it done.

Okay. It hasn’t been that long since I’ve been an undergrad, and I remember that most of the basic courses I took (not counting the ones that I took for my major, which was in English) required at least couple of 8-10 or at least 6-8 page papers a semester. Fucking…how the fuck is she even getting through school? How’d she get through high school, for that matter?

At Least That’s Something…

8 Apr

On mornings when you’ve overslept by a half-hour and are searching your floordrobe for something relatively clean and unwrinkled to wear because the skirt you were planning on wearing NO LONGER FUCKING FITS, putting baby powder in your hair because you haven’t washed it in five days, contemplating selling plasma to pay your bills, rushing out the door and realizing that you forgot both your lunch and your wallet and you’re seriously congratulating yourself for accidentally coming up with this method to lose weight and save money, thinking about how you’ll be 31 in five months but you feel like you’re 22 (not in a good way), feeling resentful of a friend’s proclamation on her blog that she loves her thirties because at this rate you won’t get your shit together until you’re at least 60 or, more likely, you’ll be on Hoarders by then, it’s good to remember that at least you’re not a Republican.

If You’d Like, I Can Also Take a Picture of the Navel I’ve Been Gazing at All Day

6 Apr

I realized I haven’t made a cankle update in FOREVER and since I KNOW that people are FASCINATED by it, I thought I would do so.

I’m Mostly Normal. I have some occasional pain, some swelling, and kickass scars. I haven’t started wearing high heels over a half-inch or so for any length of time yet.

As you can see from my picture taken with my camera phone and edited in MS Paint, Cankle is still larger than Non-Cankle, and lacks some of the boniness it had prior to being broken into bits.

There is a stitch still embedded in my skin that I can’t get out. My OCD does not like this at all.

Disappointingly, this one doesn’t look quite as awesome as it is in real life. First of all, it’s three inches long (TWSS) and second of all, it’s sort of situated in this weird dent between my outside plate and my Achilles tendon, which feels reeeeallllyyy weird.  This is the scar that I would not have had if I wasn’t stupid enough to try and use my crutches to go to the bathroom after drinking half a bottle of wine and taking a few (low-dose!) Vicodin. *shudder* That hurt more than the initial accident.

The good thing is that my range of motion is pretty much back to normal, and I’m at about 90% of my strength (my calf atrophied like you would NOT believe). I wish I’d done a better job of documenting it, because it was kind of fucking cool. Then again, it’s apparent that my photography skills are sub-par and my paleness is so intense that it basically reflects the flash and makes up-close pictures all shiny and weird.

Incidentally, I have $32,000 worth of hardware up in this bitch. Imma pawn it and pay off (some of) my student loans!

Failures! All of You!

6 Apr

I forgot to vote. How could you let me forget to vote???

Luckily, it didn’t matter too much. Craycray school board dolphin lady only got 10% of the vote. (Which is still kind of scary, actually).

Please Don’t Let Me Hit the Ground

4 Apr

Oh, you’ve got green eyes
Oh, you’ve got blue eyes
Oh, you’ve got gray eyes

Today has been a little rough so far: part gloomy weather, part annoying peoplerson, part crappy job, and, embarrassingly enough, in small part because I was trying a new wavy look with my hair but it just looks like I didn’t wash it for three weeks. Which I’m perfectly willing to cop to if it’s true, but it’s not! I washed it last night! And it had only been a week! Maaaaaaaaaaaaybe I need to cut back on the product.  /fwp

I just need to keep looking at this cat macro that someone at SN! (gocart? I’m too lazy to check) linked to the other day.

Oh, Good God

31 Mar

“Wait, there are dinosaur footprints in that park? How did they get there? Why didn’t the rain wash them away?”

How can you have grown up and gone to public school in the 80s and 90s and not know what the fuck a fossil is?

I wonder if they have one of those dinosaur tapes my little brothers always watched up on YouTube…

Oooh, like this one!

On second thought, it’s probably too advanced.

UPDATE: If you do not stop talking about how fat you are and your diet tea, you will know what a fossil is from personal experience.

Because I will turn you into one.

That means I’ll kill you.



UPDATE UPDATE: I know I’m a whiner and this probably gets old. But srsly. Imagine having a young Sarah Palin in your office. Every. Other. Day. Except. Fridays. And. Sometimes. Tuesdays.

Correcting the Smut Clyde (On Another Blog)

30 Mar

Dear Mr. Clyde,

This is to inform you that you are wrong about xkcd and trebuchets.

Yours truly,

Truculent A. Unreliable, MA, CPSA

Two Big Problems That I’ve Never Had

28 Mar

Anybody who knows my musical tastes that it would be out-of-character for me to post a Dag Nasty video on a Monday morning, but I’ve decided to make this my theme song of the week:

I’m not the world’s biggest hardcore fan, but they’re a lot more melodic and a lot less yell-y than some of those other guys.

Also, two things that I must have (OMG SUCH A STEREOTYPE OF MYSELF):


“In the Library” perfume (non-perfume?) by CB I Hate Perfume. I’m not sure it will actually have the book smell that I, personally, love. However, I’d guess that not many people  love the particular smell of decaying paper and book bindings from those plain mid-century books that you see housing journals and the classics that didn’t need all that fancy-ass shit like fucking movie posters and vampires on the front of them.

ZOMG. I think my favorite is the Fifth Doctor’s little teeny celery boutonnière, although the Tenth Doctor’s little Converse are pretty freaking cute, too. I’ve been meaning to learn how to cross-stitch (it can’t be that hard, even for an idiot like me) because I love Charley Harper and he has some awesome patterns. Now I have even more of a reason.

By the way, does anybody else find it sad that all Christopher Eccleston got was a lame-ass leather jacket? The bastards couldn’t have at least given him a hat or something? Hmph.