Textual Feeling: For Once, I Feel Worse Than I Look

me: i'm pulling the trigger tonight.  2 shots to prep for the pain.
b: i wish you luck my child.
me: i'm terrified.
b: i'm terrified for you.
me: but it can't be too bad.  i have piercings and tattoos.
b: one would think.  it's just violently ripping hair out of the most sensitive part of your body.
me: oh god.  i'm going to puke.
**
me: good lord.  she's running late.
b: oh boy.
me: i'm scared the buzz is starting to wear off.  i should have done three shots.
b: should have brought a flask.
me: i still have to drive myself home.
b: should have planned ahead.
me: no one was available.
b: what the fuck am i?  chopped liver?
me: i didn't think you'd be into it.
b: you have no idea what i would give to see your face walking out of there tonight.
me: i feel like i should get some money off for her being late.  i hauled ass to get here by six.  and no one at this fucking salon thing is friendly.  at all.
b: totally.  you're willing to torture yourself like this and the bitch isn't even there on time to get it over with.
me: and i'm a nervous pee-er.  i've peed three times since i've been here and now i'm self-conscious that my twat reeks of urine.
b:  that's probably better than it normally smells.
i hope you've gleaned what i meant for you to glean from that conversation.
i don't have a bucket list - but if it did it would include things like punch a stranger in the face, get a brazilian wax, saw a snake in half, shave shitler's entire body while he slumbers, etc.
so at least i can check one thing off my list.
in other news.  i feel like shit.  like absolute fucking garbage.
i went to watch shitler bowl last night.  here are a couple snapshots from my night:

aside from the tacos and bowling i only indulged in TWO drinks.  and as a result - my morning has consisted of pepto and constant retching in the toilet.  i'm pathetic.  
plus, i've reach an all-time new low.  due to puke breath - i had to break down and use this:

fuck you shawn white gum

so i'm not sure what's wrong with me.  i've definitely lost my touch - there's doubt about that.  vodka and i used to get on quite well and now the tables have turned.  combine that with the fact that my uterus is trying to claw itself out of my body and as a result i'm in an immense amount of pain.
this is what my life has been reduced to.
pathetic.

The Adventures of Mr. Poop

shitler and i have introduced a new toy into the lives of the dingos and i've got to be honest - i think i'm more excited than the dingos actually are.
i might spotlight the new addition.  i'm betting that he gets himself into all sort of shennigans.

mr. poop

look at that frown...  ha!  
and that fucking creep in the background.  
this is too much. 

Textual Feeling: Mind Fucked

b: so, showering and hygiene in general is really more of nuisance then it's worth.
me:  SEE.  I TOLD YOU.
b: you should write a book.  you are so full of worldly wisdom.
me:  i know this.
typically b isn't this nice to me.  so i felt warm and fuzzy inside.  but for like one fucking minute because then it felt like a trap.
like he was setting me up.
which he probably was.  
he was probably slyly accusing me of being a dirty fucking hippie because i don't like to shower.  which is fine.  because that's also why i love camping.  no one judges you when you don't shower because  you're "roughing it."
regardless.
look at me and shitler "roughing it:"

greasy

back to the task at hand.  i'm pretty sure b was just mind fucking me by back-handedly complimenting me with a masked insult that contained insinuations that i don't shower (which i totally wouldn't if it were more socially acceptable).
whatever.
i'm having mini cucumber sandwiches for lunch.

I. AM. SHITLER.

the beast has awakened

The Night I Fell In Love With The Pampered Chef Mix 'N Chop

shitler makes fun of me because he says i never stick with anything.  i just get incredibly excited about something and go balls to the wall with it for two weeks, then lose interest and lay on the couch and watch television until something else sparks my interest and the whole process starts over again.
case in point - mini cucumber sandwiches.
a couple of week's ago my knocked up friend had a baby shower:

womb.creature.

at said baby shower there were mini cucumber sandwiches.  i forgot about about that until yesterday when i had an overwhelming need to make them. 

it begins. leave all inappropriate comments below.

after i ate a loaf of pumpkernickel mini cucumber sandwiches and got gut rot - i laid on the couch and watched five hours of once upon a time.  but then i remembered that i got one of those mix 'n chops so i immediately made a beeline for the ground turkey in the fridge and mixed and chopped to my heart's fucking content.

i promise that there isn't any hair in the turkey.  but if there was it wouldn't matter because you're not even eating it.  i am.  and it's my fucking hair.  no we're square.  but really, the mix 'n chop changed my life.  i will only accept ground beef/turkey recipes that require those meats to be mixed 'n chopped from here on out.
also - during this debacle i had to switch to rumchata as i polished off the rest of my vodka during the frantic-ness of making mini cuke sandwiches.
chuck muscled his way in.  dick.

i suppose the moral of the story is that i will eat mini cucumber sandwiches and use my mix 'n chop for the next week or so and then i will forget about it.  upon which i will find something else to wildly obsess about for a short period of time.

Shitler Is Breaking My Heart

i need to stop thinking i'm invincible.  i made some poor choices this weekend in regards to food and alcohol and my poor, poor body is currently paying the price.
my back hurts because i spent the majority of my day yesterday hunched over the toilet.  my head is pounding.  and everything i encounter is literally the most annoying thing ever.  people are walking loud and they are talking even louder.  it's crazytown.
and on top of all of that - lincoln is making me give charchar binks the cat back to its original owner because he's a fucking devil-man.
from here on out - he will be referred to as shitler.  in an effort to campaign against his current nazi regime - my friend made some convincing photos that are pretty self-explanatory.

i've decided to occupy the pussy for catgate 2K12.  although i'm not sure if i'm utilizing the concept correctly.  or if that makes me a democrat or a republican.  or if it makes a nazi.  or if this will even work.
i'm sure it won't.  shitler doesn't even care that he's literally ripping my heart out.
bastard. 

I'm Pretty Into Meat

one time i thought it would be interesting to try going vegetarian for a month.  that didn't work.  mainly because i fucking love meat.
so i made some meatloaf for lincoln the other night.
here is my night in meat-related photos.

then chuck tried to entice me with his body:

but i stayed strong and pressed on.

 and then i made tabouli - which is completely un-meat-related.

Honey Badger Don't Give a Shit

this would have been funnier had i discovered it on groundhog's day but i lol'd nonetheless.

Regular DJ Jesus Would Get Trumped By Raptor DJ Jesus

i thought sodium cat and the honey badger were the only things getting me through this day.  a day that led to discover that not every adult knows the alphabet.
but this is by far the best.  i like nothing more than satirical jesus.

Sodium Cat

the only thing that's gotten me through the day.