High Five 4 Friday

zang zadam.
heyyyyyy friday.  i'm so glad you're here.  like, seriously glad.  because it's been awhile and i hate when we go this long without seeing each other.
so here's my link up with lauren over at from my grey desk.
1. foy gave me this wine stopper for my birthday (which was back in my may and i'm just getting it now because we went an eternity without seeing each other).  i'm pretty pumped.
except it's forced me to not ingest a bottle in one sitting so that i can actually use the wine stopper.

2. the game of thrones series, in all of its entirety, will be the death of me.  i don't have the show till february so i have been obsessively reading the books.  obsessively in such a way that it feels like real life gets in the way.  and by real life i mean work, and shitler, and showering.

3. shitler is a clever fox.  i'll give him that.  i never did get sgt. bilko for my birthday.that is until this week.  when he found it on hbo, recorded it, and declared that this counts as getting me sgt bilko for my birthday.
dick.

4. artichokes and asparagus in mass amounts.  let the love affair continue.  i can't stop eating them.  i made these cheesy artichoke squares this week and i've been eating them everyday.  not to mention my asparagus pee is a testament to my maturity because i seriously laugh at my smelly pee every time i urinate.

5.  i'm sorry if water and sunsets are getting redundant.
but i love them.
a lot.
so fucking deal with it.
and we're off.  time to hit the ground running.  and by that - i mean avoid making plans with anyone so i can just read a storm of swords all weekend.

Textual Feeling: Heat Stroke

hello world.
i'd like to announce that i've decided to compulsively bake this weekend.  so that means no one better bother me.  
or i will fucking shank you with a whisk.  
a wire one.  
after i have severed some of the little whisky things so they're pointy and sharp.
and i'm going to listen to zeppelin and elp on a constant loop throughout this bake-off with myself and it's going to be tremendous.

and in all seriousness - i was going another direction with this post and then i had this conversation with b.  and it instantly became my favorite thing in the entire world.
b: you'd be amazed how quickly this heat takes effect on the testicles.
me:  i'll do you one better.  imagine a sweaty, smelly vagina after an hour of intense cardio and then getting into a sweltering hot car that has no air conditioning and driving home.
b: your vagina doesn't cling to your thigh and begin acting like a creepy wall crawler.
me: you don't know that.
b: that's true.  i'm just taking a shot in the dark.
me: thank you.  i appreciate you not making assumptions about my vagina.
b: come on, we all know it's smelly and warn out.  kind of like a drained, inflatable pool.
me: i will neither confirm nor deny.
now go forth and discuss the intense heat and the damage it causes to your genitals.

Textual Feeling: Underpants Optional

if anyone wondered how long it took me to get to the gym from my place of employment, don't worry, i timed myself today.  it takes me 3 1/3 "call me maybe" songs.

also, this happened today:
me: uhhh.  i got to work and realized i forgot to put on underwear.  so shitler has agreed to bring me a pair later.
b: what a sweetheart.  who forgets underwear?
me: sometimes i get confused in the morning.
b: it would appear so.
me: i just want some underpants before i go to the gym.  i'm worried i'll chafe without them.
b: nobody likes chafing.
**five hours later**
me: i just got my underwear.
b: wow.  did he have to make it for you first?
me: i could only imagine if i got a pair he made.  it would be constructed out of some sort of burlap.
me: also, he pulled up in visitor parking which faces right into the conference room.  and instead of just handing me the underwear like a normal person he insisted on whipping them around in the air like some sort of lasso.  mind you - there was a meeting going on in the conference room at the time.  so i can only assume they were all privy to the show.
b: well, at least they had an entertaining meeting.

*

i picture this is how murphy lee would look reminding  me to put some damn underwear on in the morning:

Whiskey, Water, & Whimsy

so the last time i was on the chain up in minocqua, wi i was so hungover that i spent the majority of the terrible boat ride wallowing in my own shame and hangover while every once and awhile leaning over the side of the boat to vomit.  all because i thought it appropriate to pressure myself and others into taking shot after shot after shot of various alcohols the night before.  worst.idea.ever.  i'd like to say that i've learned my lesson since and haven't done anything similar - but that would a lie.
like any other weekend up north it's comprised mainly of drinking, sleeping, more drinking, reading, drinking, eating, and then desperately trying to recover.  and then when the weekend is over you feel as though you need another weekend in order to rest from the shit show you just subjected yourself to.
please see below.
wendy and i decided it would be appropriate to buy these obnoxious clip-in feathers.
worst $5 i've ever spent.


and then shitler insisted on trying it on.

and then ryder channeled his inner jimmy fallon and decided to write thank you notes.

though these are not my legs we did spend quite a bit of time doing this and i managed to devour two books.  while slightly intoxicated.  and i retained most of it.
go ahead, fucking test me.

tell me HOW drinks can't not go down nice and smooth with this straw?

and then all of the sudden everyone was drunk.  again.  and there was a grease soundtrack singalong.

and then a photo shoot where we took photos and one of us didn't like the way one of us looked so we kept taking pictures and i drunkenly declared "the more the better!!"  and then we started doing tequila shots.  or it could have been before.  it's a fucking blur.  oh, and apparently when i say "the more the better!!" i mean 60 fucking photos of me and wendy.  how embarrassing.

i can only imagine what this dog thought of the entire situation.

i felt strangely average come sunday.  so boating wasn't the hellish experience it was last time.

although someone could have contracted tetanus.

if there's one thing i'm proud of - it's the fact that i ingested an obscene amount of food on sunday.  like two diet cokes, a screwdriver, a chicken finger basket that included cole slaw, french fries, and a deep fried breadstick, nacho cheese and chips, string cheese, a bag of bbq chips, red bull, a bag of beef jerky, a hamburger and a bunch of sides, and like 16 bottles of water.  
success.
and this damn song has been on repeat on my iPhone all damn weekend.  

so between the feather clips, photo shoots and this song i have officially reverted back to being a thirteen year old girl.

Because I'm Determined To Be A 4%'er

i'm going to train for a 5K.
i know that sounds like an odd thing to say.  like why wouldn't you say, "i'm going to run a 5K so i have to train for it."  but i'm not going to over-commit myself and then perhaps not actually run a 5K.  so i'm going to stick with the training part so not actually doing the 5K isn't such a crushing blow.
but here's to hoping that i follow through with this.  because it would be a real fuck-you to shitler.  except i fear that i'll keep this up for like two weeks but then i'll quit and then shitler might read this during the third week and he'll be like "see, 3%."
here are my shoes:

come to think of it - i'm not sure if they're actually good for running.  but i like the bright colors.  so here's hoping my shins survive the fact that i buy things based on color schemes.
and also, my first two training days have consisted of 25 minutes alternating between walking and running and for both of those runs i've listened to nothing but the following on a constant loop:


i'm just a soul survivor.  leave me alone.
if you have 5K training suggestions - by all means, give them to me.
but in the mean time i have two things to say:
1. i've reach the first part in gillian flynn's newest book that makes you go "what.thefuck?"
2. i watched an especially fucking awesome episode of game of thrones last night.  the one where the blonde chick eats a horse heart and she does it all crazy, cannibal style and there's blood running down her chin and chest and you think she's going to upchuck it all but she doesn't therefore proving she's insanely amazing.
i think that's what's missing with a lot of other shows on television right now.  not enough horse heart chow down sessions.

Things That Start With G Are Ruining My Life

yes i'm talking to you girls and game of thrones.
because we all know the last thing i need is one more thing to distract me from general, everyday tasks like making sure we have clean clothes and not letting the dishes sit in the sink to the point of all-out nastiness.
so i accomplished next to nothing on my list of unimportant things to do while shitler was away.
i cooked/baked/crafted nothing on my list.
this is what happened in one, gigantic run-on sentence.  gym, got my vagina waxed, bought asparagus, boat ride, ate pizza, watched the tudors, consumed wine, slept, woke up, made bacon pancakes, reluctantly showered, went to a bridal shower, messed with babies, ate some steak/cactus tacos, ate some potato oles, came home, watched every episode of girls on demand, drank more wine, watched x-men first class, drank even more wine, slept, woke up, made a point to not shower, did laundry, watched game of thrones, ate jell-o shots, left to eat carnitas and drink martinis, came back home, drank wine, watched game of thrones, said hi to shiter when he arrived home, made him watch three episodes of girls, passed out.
and now - i'm more resentful of having to be at work since i know that i have 32 more episodes of game of thrones waiting for me at home.

sommer hit the bottle a little too hard

he wanted a jell-o shot.

sommer was not having any of cordell.  which i think means she's a lesbian.

lastly, i just discovered that the pants i put on this morning have a giant hole in the crotch.  jackpot.

bacon for all the meals

bacon.bacon.bacon.bacon.bacon.bacon.

sometimes that's all i think about.  and then sometimes when shitler and i go to breakfast and he boldly declares that he would choose sausage over bacon any day of the week i die a little inside.  because it's basically blasphemy.

but then this weekend i wanted pancakes.  and then i also wanted bacon.  but i wanted them intertwined in so intimate a  way that they would do a delicious dance in my mouth.
so b, the super fox, and i did this:



are you fucking serious? 

it was jubilant.  ask anyone.

and it answers the age old question of whether or not bacon makes everything better.  and the answer is yes, yes it does.

I Wonder Which Dinosaurs Raptor Jesus Would Have For His Disciples

 

Avoid The Warm Spot In The Water

i will have to admit that this weekend was pretty GD magical.no work + a boat + drinks + friends = general merriment.  it's the perfect equation.
let me break it down.

don't think it was all sunshine and rainbows.
i did manage to open up the summer/lake season with the obligatory i-drank-too-much-on-the-boat-and-i-can't-hold-it-till-we-get-back-so-i-will-drop-my-ass-in-the-water-and-pee moment.
there might be pictures of that.

Sweet Solitude

first things first.
for the last month - murphy lee has smelled terrible.  so terrible that shitler took to calling him "dump dog."
so this happened:

and someone wasn't happy:

especially because this fucker kept swimming around like he wasn't next:

but that is neither here nor there.  because i have fantastic news for myself.
this weekend will be the second weekend of my sabbatical from the restaurant and shitler will be out of town.
i.can't.wait.
i've compiled a list of things i will be doing, making, and eating
this.
why not.
bacon.banana.bread.
find a pile of these.
seriously.
something that shitler would not approve of.
fuck.you.
watch this.
the odds of me getting all of those done is highly unlikely.  but a girl can dream, right?
i'm sure my weekend will be comprised mainly of drinking wine and watching movies that shitler mercilessly makes fun of me for wanting to see.
like underworld.
the latest one.  
which oddly enough will just depress me.  since i'll be stuffing dessert stuffs in my face and watching kate beckinsale prance around in tight leather.  now i can't focus because i'm too overcome with excitement.  and anticipation of kate in leather.   we'll see how this weekend pans out.  
i don't see it being anything short of glorious.

Pussy Everywhere

because i can't even stop posting pictures of pussy.

Textual Feeling: See The Type of Bullshit I Have To Deal With

it's been awhile since i've spotlighted the worthless textual conversations i have with b.  
so without further ado:
**while imbibing at the bar**
me: i made a new best friend in the bathroom.
b: whose your new bestie?  is she cute and single?
me: her name is emily.  and i don't know.
b: so how did you two meet?
me: we peed in tandem.  and then i pointed out that her ID and money fell onto the floor and she declared her love for me.
b: that's cute.  you could make a lifetime movie out of that story.
me: i'd watch it.
b: i'd put it on.  when i wanted to take a nap.
me: wow, i'd like to think my lifetime movie wouldn't be sure a bore.
b: as a series, no.  but that one might be a snoozer.  mainly because i'm not in that one.
me: fine, i'll make sure you miss the one with the lesbian action in it.
b: fuck that.  i will set my dvr for it.  that would be the one i wait all season for.
me: i will hack in and clear it.  then remove every other airing of that episode.
b: dream on.  you aren't that ambitious.
me: or smart.
recently i made the mistake of leaving a conversation about serial killers to go to the bathroom and when i came back the conversation had shifted to adoption.  
i'll never make that mistake again.
the following conversation occurred during said terrible conversation:
me: i'm going to blow my fucking brains out.  this conversation is slowly killing me.
b: please don't do that tonight.  at least let me video tape it for research purposes.
me: what's there to research?
b: brains may look cool splattered on the wall.  it could be saleable artwork.
me: oh, good call.  what would you call that piece of art?  "the cunt."
b: "cunt for brains."
b: it's really a working title.
me: i like it.
and in case you're offended and/or don't like filthy language here's a picture of my cute-ish, idiot dog fighting a sleep attack.

i hope we're even.