Desert Storm Alice is My Favorite

my week has consisted of getting drunk, eating cupcakes, and watching the resident evil movies.  

and it has by far, been one of the best weeks ever.

drunk photo booth pictures abound.obviously.
some of shitler's college cronies and family:







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my obsession, albeit late, with the resident evil movies began at the tamez household where the fourth one was on.  it's probably not the best place to start but it piqued my interest and now all i want to do is watch these movies on a constant fucking loop (big ups to b for letting me have these for awhile).



i've learned a few things from these movies:

1. i dislike michelle rodriguez in every single movie she does.
2. i'm completely unprepared for a zombie apocalypse.
3. zombies, although annoying, are quite determined and goal-oriented.
4. milla jovovich has forced me to question my sexuality.
5. i must stay constantly vigilant. 

so i pose this question to you - which is your favorite alice?

[caption id="attachment_1474" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="these boots go with everything alice"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1475" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="mesh is practical alice"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1476" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="desert storm alice"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1477" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="i got all my sisters with me alice"][/caption]

please vote below:

[polldaddy poll=6096559]

Textual Feeling: I Wish Vodka Was My Sponsor

here's my problem.  i'm generally a very lazy person (just ask shitler).  my laziness includes cleaning, laundry, being productive and also caring about arguments or other people's opinions.  

this post started out being about some knobs on facebook that pissed me off last night.  but then my hangover and laziness (see, i told you) got the better of me

here's the link in case you actually want to read it the article that they posted and then insulted my state with.

but more importantly - my day can be summed up in three pictures:

[caption id="attachment_1460" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="god i love pickles."][/caption]

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me:  i don't want to work ever again.  i just want to blog all day.

b: i could read your blog all day then.  what a team.

me: we'd both be living the dream.

b: yep, while being judged by shitler.

me: we'd have vodka.  so we'd be good.

b: what a stellar business plan you've come up with.

me: there won't be many expenses.  just vodka and food.

b: exactly.  very little overhead.  we could survive on vodka and pizza rolls.

so in all seriousness, if you're vodka, call me.

also, i forgot about my finger and ran my fingers through my hair.  which resulted in getting strands of hair caught in the flap of skin that's hanging loose from my finger.

and now i have blood in my hair.

I Cut Myself on the Sink

i know.  it makes no sense.  

well, in retrospect - it makes perfect sense.  i'd been drinking.  and then cleaning.  

i'm really, really good at one of those things.

[caption id="attachment_1441" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="ack. also - i suggest you click on the picture. the close-up is way better."][/caption]

the artsy version:

[caption id="attachment_1442" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="i like the one with the hearts."][/caption]

boring, un-decorated band aids are for losers.
so this one is for later when it's time to change the dressings on my wound and when i'm in a better mood.  

[caption id="attachment_1445" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="that smile will soon be bloody."][/caption]

 this is now:

[caption id="attachment_1446" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="because i'm angry."][/caption]

what have i learned from this?

1. sinks are sharp

2. i shouldn't clean

I Don't Think This Was The Jelly Beyonce Was Talking About

and lord knows i wasn't ready for it.
apparently b put these in my purse two or three months ago and i'm just finally discovering that they exploded all over.

that's fine.
even though everything in my purse was covered in a sticky layer of jelly it at least smelled like strawberries.
oh, here's my purse.  and its contents.

contents include, but aren't limited to:

wallet, 2 books, twilight returns movie, re-usable grocery bag thing, pepto, various beverages, headphones, deodorant, tiny satchel thing, 2 kinds of body sprays, 3 chapsticks, sunglasses, loaf of bread, triscuits, new barbell and nose rings, a thousand receipts, birthday card from last year, keys, lotion, jely, 26 cents, my crumpled march madness bracket

oddly enough - no pens.

and no, that printer wasn't in my purse.  although i'm sure it would fit.

Things I'm Currently Fucking Obsessed With

i'm slightly obsessive.  usually for brief periods over nonsensical things.

please see below:

• anything and everything gillian flynn.  for reals.  sharp objects was amazing.  dark places is currently blowing my mind.  and her new one, gone girl, (coming out in june) i can only imagine will be incredible.  i mean seriously - how can you not love her style and content when she writes shit like this: "the baby scuttering around inside like it had dug tunnels."


• controlling the force in which i pee.  you know - forceful stream, not forceful stream (you all know exactly what i'm talking about).


• triscuits


• this incredible amount of eggs:
  


• that point when you know you've had enough coffee because you're thinking somewhat clearly but then you decide to push the envelope and have another and then feel like you could take over the fucking world.


• in regards to taking over the world - PINKY AND THE BRAIN. 


• this chicken wing and also the inquisitive look on shitler's face:

[caption id="attachment_1407" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="shitler: "soon chicken wing, soon i will crap you out.""][/caption]

• this video.  and this band.  they're incredible.  it makes me want to get a band of merry folk together and stomp our feet.  sidenote - do you think headband girl and lead singer are banging each other?  please watch for the stolen glances between the two.  oh, and i also want lead singer's jacket.
  


• THE HUNGER GAMES AT MIDNIGHT.

please stay tuned for the tale of my st. patrick's day adventure.  

and by adventure i mean shit show.

Textual Feeling: B's B-Day!

in trying to honor b on the day of his birth and his cursed existence in my life since i encountered him however many years ago - i give you these:

***

me: i had asparagus with dinner last night and my pee has smelled alllll day.
b: i love when that happens.

***

b: why aren't we supposed to cry over spilled milk?  if not cleaned up properly, spilled milk can get pretty nasty.  that seems like something to cry over.

------ (this is me ignoring him)

b: 

------ (this is me ignoring him again)

b:



------ (me ignoring him)

b: EVENTUALLY YOU WILL RESPOND TO ME.
me: those are old news bitch.
b: la dee da.  i just had them sent to me.  sorry for thinking you'd enjoy them too.  now answer my question.
me: i guess my answer would be that i wouldn't give a shit because a dog or cat would lick it up and it wouldn't be my fucking problem anymore.
b: why are you so bitchy today?
me: i need a drink.

***

b: well, it's what she wants.
me: all that she wants?
b: you got it.
me: what about another baby?
b: that's me.  duh.
me: quit being obtuse and acknowledge my ace of base reference.
b: nope.  i refuse to give you that satisfaction.

***

so here's to b.  on his fucking bday.  

here's to many more times we get hammered and make poor choices while shitler judges us, to hours spent watching "my cat from hell," and to discussing books and how much we love them in front of shitler till his head explodes.  

to vodka presses (with lime -because if you prefer them without - odds are you're a fucking communist) and john daly's, and ranch dressing on the thighs of hot girls.

to daring me to steal shit when i get drunk out of my skull, to encouraging you to drunk dial people and leave embarrassing messages, and most importantly - here's to poor-decision making (especially on your bday).

Let The Cocks Abound.

first things first.
i've decided to start working with one ear bud in and my music blasting.  it's been the only thing to keep me sane all day and drowns out most of what i can't handle hearing on a daily basis (which is everything).
secondly, i've thought about work related things about 1% today.  the other 99% has been about the only thing that matters for the next four weeks.  MARCH MOTHERFUCKING MADNESS.  seriously.  i can't wait to get the fuck out of work and go to the bar to watch the games.  it will be grand.
in the meantime - the bloggess, bless her kind soul, posted this gem today so i've been printing, laminating, and creating puppets for the majority of my day.
it's all fun and games until someone gets a cock in their cube:

also - i haven't made a puppet yet.  i have the means.  but that entails eating dilly bars from dq and i'm so full i could puke from the chicken salad sandwich i horked down for lunch.  so instead, i've been peer pressuring my co-workers into eating them and then stealing the popsicle sticks for my own selfish purposes.

and when i went to investigate the dilly bar situation i forgot i bought this yesterday at 7AM:

 

soon my little cock friends...very soon you will have dirty popsicle sticks shoved where i imagine your butthold would be:

Don't Be Alarmed If I Eat This Baby

seriously.  if undeniable cuteness makes you nauseous.  if adorable, tiny babies don't warm your dead heart - then something is seriously fucking wrong with you and you should probably not scroll through the pictures of the womb creature that my friend just popped out of her vag.
this baby is so goddamned cute it took everything in me not to devour her whole.  
she is simply delicious.  and if i could - i would have huffed her baby smell all fucking day (which always confuses me how they smell so good.  considering they've been in that sac of gross fluid for nine months and came through a bloody canal).
PREPARE YOURSELF FOR ALL THAT IS CUTE.

yes - that explosion of cuteness just fucking happened.

mamma and sommer elizabeth

but that's how they get you.  they're all sweet and quiet and then they drop loads of shit in their diaper and the vomiting and the crying and not being able to do whatever you want to do whenever you want to do it because now you're actually responsible for another person's life.
so i just have him:

all mange, all the time.

In My Mind I'm Not Insane. Not All The Way, At Least.

albert einstein said the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
my night began with this:

distinguished - i know.

and then continued with vodka, more vodka, bar dice, and shots.
now i feel like this:

but then i found this:

and then life was good.
until shitler called to tell me that he bought toilet paper, 16 oz cans of nati light, and a bottle of scotch.
whatever freak-wad.

This Is How Much I Love Mustard

seriously.

like i love it so much i want to wine and dine it.
tell it a bunch stuff it wants to hear but i don't mean.   
i love it so much that i like to put a crapload on the sandwich itself and then more before i take an actual bite.  i love it so much that i like when it oozes out of the sandwich and onto my plate and i can lick it off my plate.  i love it so much that i like to put it on everything.
chicken, vegetables, chips, etc.
don't judge me.
in news unrelated to mustard - here's a ridiculous picture of my aunt and uncle's dog:

the night shitler tried to cripple me

there is never a dull moment whenever shitler is around.  drunk or sober or asleep.
the 3rd of march was his 28th birthday.
here is a photo prior to our departure from the bar:

here is a list of shit he muttered/slash thought i cared to hear:

• alabaster gray
• springtime fluff
• wintertime cherishness
• remember your graduation tassel?  i feel like the end of a tassel.  i feel so fluffy.
• can i bite your titsies?
• your tits are butt-tastic
• remember shel silverstein?
• it's like a superman gift box inside of a space shuttle.
• i want to go bed.  i don't like this anymore.
• fucking shel silverstein.
• i could randomly state crazy things that you could write?
• you're writing this too?  goddamnit.

then an hour after this - he flailed in his sleep and cracked me in the spine.
then shouted obscenities.
like i said - never a dull moment.

An Afternoon With Jeff Goldblum

as a rule - i don't make good use of my time.
please see below:

these last two are clearly my favorite:

next item on the agenda - did dinosaurs menstruate?
please stay tuned.