Monday, January 28, 2013

Mardi Gras Mambo

Welcome to Louisiana!  You know what time it is?  It's CARNIVAL TIME, bitches, and that means one thing.  Pah  Rades.


We've been to four so far, this year.  Three of which were this last weekend.  This is what our Sunday afternoons look like:

My phone sucks.  The case always blurs out the bottom.

But anyway, so here is a parade we went to yesterday.  Doodle was in a good mood, compared to last week, when it was much chillier, which looked like this:

Anyway, we caught a bunch of shit yesterday, including a new snake baby (all stuffed animals are called babies at my house) for the cat to steal.

Two nights ago was the only walking parade in our town, one that we usually love love love because it's all about moon pies and we usually catch, like, 40.  This year we caught 4.  FOUR.  After waiting an hour-and-a-half.

I'd be thoroughly pissed off, but I am still glad we went, because, you see, I saw my future husband.


Wait for it...




Ohmygod.  Where do I start?  He's, say, 28 years old.  Awful facial hair.  Big ol' front butt.  Cane.  And his shirt reads, "I would cuddle you so hard"

Who can blame me.  This must be love.

Here's the baby at the same parade:
He had fun, until the waiting for an hour and a half resulted in FOUR moon pies.  After that, he was really over it.  Thank God for the snake baby.

I chickened out in the end, didn't get this guy's number.  I told Melissa I would.  Her response was, "How many beers, boo?"

Knowing that, after six?  I'm easy.

Happy Mardi Gras!

Thursday, January 24, 2013

Don't Poop On Me

My bigger child is the person in my life who provides me with the most entertainment, I think.  Every day or two, he sends me a link, usually to a video (these are teenagers.  they SUBSCRIBE to youtube channels.  I mean, that's just weird.)  Anyway, lately, there have been some excellent examples.

I give to you, ham.  Dayum.

At least twice a day, my coworkers and I will look at each other and tenderly say, "I wish you could smell, what I'm smellin'."

The gift that keeps on giving.

Kid has also introduced me to Jenna Marbles.  She definitely cracks me up, and now I say "GET THE FUCK OUT, ADELE" on a regular basis.  HAHA.

And then, this week, we were gifted with this.  A parrot.  If you don't know, I motherfuckingHATEbirds, but if I DID have to have a bird, and I never would, mind you, because birds are motherfuckingDISGUSTING, but if I DID, it would be a parrot that had a potty mouth.  I would teach it to say the worst phrases I know, the most nasty and off-putting, particulary, "cunt-licker" and "ass-fucker."  Because I can.

Could.  I won't, though, because I will never get a bird, because birds are motherfuckingDISGUSTING, and guess what?  THEY CANNOT CONTROL THEIR BOWELS.

I'm pretty sure this guy discovered that lack of control, and uttered a phrase, a phrase that also will live with you for days to come, and listened to his parrot echo it back.  Note, this might be a Macaw.  AS IF I CARE.

Don't poop on me.  FUCKING SHIT.

Don't poop on me.

My god, how I love that phrase.  FUCKING SHIT rocks, too, and that this bird sounds like Pacino just makes me all the happier.

In other news of video-viewing, I finally finished Dawson(GoodGodIWishINeverStartedThatStupidEndeavor) and have moved on to The West Wing.  MUCH more respectable and far less likely to make me hate myself for watching.  The music isn't as good, but the characters are so good.  I want Jeb Bartlett for president.  Fuck it.  Also, I like to think of myself as a Donna at work.  In real life, I might be more like Mya's assistant on that one show with David Spade and Mya's dad owns a magazine and is an idiot?  Right, you know what I mean, right?

Fast Forward to 5:45.  Best moment in adminning EVER.  EVER.

Alas, I have to go work and cannot watch more videos.  Happy Thursday, everybody.  If Death stops by, I'll let you know.

Monday, January 14, 2013

Victim of Rape by the Toyota Dealership. Or so it seems.

I love my car.  I really do.  I drive a little, 2004 Rav 4, it's white, it has 118,000 miles, and it runs.  It runs really well.

But GOD DAMN, when did car parts start getting so expensive?  Like, seriously?  I remember getting my oil changed for $12.  Now it's $36.  And they don't even vacuum the interior.  As if they could get to the floor mats.  I digress.

Today I dropped my car off to get an oil change, and also to have the dealership "fix the check engine light." This will be the third time said car has been into said dealership to fix said light.  We have:  1) put a new cover on the gas cap.  2) changed out the O2 sensor.  Neither of these things worked.  So now, SO NOW, they call me to tell me that I need a new EVAP system.  Know how much that costs?




So I'm getting it fixed, because my mother loves me, and this is still cheaper than buying a new car, and you know what?  FUCK IT.  FUCK IT ALL.

I think she knows this makes me feel bad about myself, like I personally broke my fucking EVAP system, like I did so on purpose, because she just offered to feed me and my kids dinner.

You bet your ass I want you to feed me dinner.  So let's summarize:

1) My car is not really broken, but my mother is about to drop $1000 into it to make some lights turn off.
2) She feels sorry for me for this, and is going to feed me.

Guess who is a great big winner today?


Friday, January 11, 2013

Debbie Does Dallas

We did a major overhaul on our office area at work, over the last two weeks.  It's been a pretty much total fucking nightmare, a lot of the time.  We all worked from one common area, for several days, and - who knew?  This girl actually likes privacy.  So fuck that.

But anyway, we did all of this because we got new carpeting, and OhMyGod there was some disgusting shit on the old carpets.  Ever seen spider eggs?  THEY ARE GROSS.

Anyway, the result of all of this was a full-on rearrangement of our spaces at work, the offices, the common areas, pretty much everything.  I am now tucked into a corner, all cozy, and I FREAKING love it.

But here's the best thing:  I got a new monitor, and this one fits all snug up under the little shelf thingy above my desk.  Which is to say, it's COMPLETELY SECRET.

A few minutes ago, a girl stopped by my desk to ask me a question.  I interrupted her:

"You have no idea that I am looking at porn right now, do you?"


Porn-friendly desk and two new filing cabinets.  I'm never going to quit this job.  Unless people can't stop leaving their shit on my desk.  Because that's still a problem...

Happy Friday!