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I Digress…

February 23, 2010

It’s been almost an entire month since I wrote anything, thought about writing anything, looked at my blog (or anyone else’s for that matter). I have 80 bajillion things that I should be working on for work right now, but instead I wanted to say hi. And I miss you. And I’m now catching up on the 146 blog posts sitting in my reader that I hadn’t read. And you are all so brilliant I feel guilty knowing they were sitting there while I was at work busy correcting my moron co-worker’s mistakes and doing things that are definitely not my job.

That said, I think we need to discuss something much more important than my possibly ruh-tarded co-worker…

Azerbaijan Olympic pants


Do you know where Azerbaijan is located? It doesn’t matter because they had the coolest pants ever at the Olympic Opening Ceremony. I’m not much for snow and ice, unless were’ talking about the Jamaican bobsled team.

Some people say you know them can’t believe/Jamaica we have a bobsled team

cool runnings

You know you love it

But these are the most amazing pants ever. If I could wear these pants every day then maybe I’d change my mind about pants. But since these appear to be real pants and I’m pretty sure they are not appropriate for the workplace, they are definitely for suckers (no offense Azerbaijan). But if anyone can find them somewhere, and possibly make me a blanket and/or leg warmers out of them, I would love you forever and ever. And possibly offer you my first born child puppy. Either that, or find me an amazing job where I can wear these pants and/or work from home.

Despite my lack of affection for snow, after reading about the awesomeness that was snow day after snow day for LiLu and B, I’ve decided I may need to just up and move to somewhere with full-on, shut down the city, stock up on groceries snow. Where I live in California, it rains in the winter, that’s it. It rains. You know what happens when it rains? Everyone gets wet and people forget how to drive. That’s it. No movie days. No Secret Lives of Cats. No sweatpants. Just wet. That’s what she said.

One more thing, why didn’t anyone tell me to just man up and major in zoology in college? I mean, honestly, I could be hanging out with tiger cubs and testing to see if they really do hate cinnamon or figuring out why ants bury their dead right now. But no, I had to go into working in sports because I love sports and that would be so much fun! And as much fun as I have had at times, I’m really fucking jaded and cynical about my career choice at this point. I don’t think I’m supposed to be this jaded, I’m not even 30 or a cat-lady who wears scrunchies yet. I’m thinking someone should have just told me that I was being a pussy when I was afraid of taking chemistry, which sent me on my path towards a career in sports information. I’m pretty sure my friends and family hear from me less now than they did when I lived 2500 miles away.

Also, I think I may be developing a hunchback.

When I end up getting the dogs that will keep me company when I’m old and alone, could someone please remind me to teach them how to alert people when my dead body has been sitting in my apartment for several weeks?

In summary, please someone find me a cooler job, if possible one where I can wear Azerbaijan pants and is located in a place where I have a possibility of snow days.

Or at the very least, point me in the direction of a bell tower in France


Or possibly find me a quality dog training course.

No one wants to end up eaten by their own furry companions.


I Might Be A Death Eater

January 29, 2010

Have you ever had one of those days where you’re just feeling stabby? Like the next person who so much as blinks at you deserves a pen to the jugular? Who am I kidding? I’m stalking you I’ve seen your tweets, I know the answer to these questions.

I’m pretty sure the act of stabbing someone in the neck with a ballpoint pen would be really satisfying. I mean, the force you’d have to use to get through the skin? And the feeling of getting into the squishy insides and the large amount of blood? It would be messy, but imagine how calming it could be.

I digress.

Anyway, lately I’ve been feeling stabby. This would all be well and good if it weren’t for the fact that it’s an everyday occurrence. Every day I wake up wondering if today will be the day my coworkers hear a commotion and walk into my office to find me covered in the blood of my inept officemate, a student worker, or some random passerby.

Basically what I’m trying to say is that I feel like Harry Potter. Yes, I said Harry Potter. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.

Harry Potter

This may or may not be how I look most days. Minus the boy parts.

Oh fine. I’m a big nerdy mcnerderson and I love HP. And I used a cutesy nickname too. Shut it.

From HP and the Order of the Phoenix…

Harry Potter: This connection between me and Voldemort… what if the reason for it is that I am becoming more like him? I just feel so angry, all the time. What if after everything that I’ve been through, something’s gone wrong inside me? What if I’m becoming bad?
Sirius Black: I want you to listen to me very carefully, Harry…the world isn’t split into good people and Death Eaters. We’ve all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That’s who we really are.

So, yeah, I think something’s gone wrong inside of me. I know there’s a light part of me, I just can’t seem to act on it. Clearly, I’m on the one-way train towards becoming a Death Eater and Sirius is nowhere to be found to stop me.

Maybe I’m wrong, but wanting to stab people in the jugular and/or toss them out a window of a tall building isn’t a good sign. Neither is waking up grinding my teeth and absolutely seething in the middle of the night. Top all that off with my friend asking me (in all seriousness), “Is there anyone that you actually like?” And I’m just about ready to quit human interaction and move into a cave with some wild dogs.

All of this just make me think that maybe all these years I’ve just been pretending to be kind of nice/kind of sarcastic, when really I’m just dark, twisty and angry on the inside. Or perhaps I have an evil alien baby growing inside of me. Or, worst of all, I’m slipping into a weird Harry Potter fantasy world in which I’ve signed up as a Death Eater and the kids all call me She Who Shall Not Be Named (coincidentally, a former “pet name” for my stepmom).

I’m not sure what the cure is for any of these problems. I don’t want to be the dark, angry one. I don’t want people to avoid me for fear I might stab, bludgeon or bark at them. I’m getting back into using running as an outlet, which helps for a bit, but no matter how much I try to be positive and get shit done (ala ben), I eventually just revert back to a state of Voldemort-style rage.

As they always say, ‘Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater.’ Or something.

Any ideas for less rage and more happy, are welcome. Likewise, any ideas for less harry potter and more being an adult plausible, happier life paths are also welcome.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go order some ballpoint pens.


January 9, 2010

So, I don’t know Brandy and she doesn’t know me, but I’ve recently discovered her blog and quickly realized that she’s awesome. I’m also a big believer in the power of positive thinking and the power of our big little blogging community, so I wanted to share her message with you.


My name is brandy. And I have a blog.

And a plea.

I use my blog to showcase the crazy I meet everyday, share the stories of the kids I teach and document my love for tequila, dairy products and the abdominal muscles of Ryan Reynolds. Rarely do I talk about personal issues on my blog- as personal as the dude that I adore (who I actually met through my blog- single ladies, let that be a very good reason to blog, the possibility of meeting someone as wonderful as my man), but I need your help. And it involves my dude.

He’s a guy who made math comics for my class, so they would love learning about addition. He’s the kinda guy who sends my friends gift cards when they are having hard times, who remembers every story I ever told him, who was the first person I celebrated with when I got a teaching job. He’s the guy who sent flowers to me at school- dozens of my favourite pink roses just because he loves me. He’s a guy who has spent a year patiently explaining (and re-explaining) everything there is to know about football during the important games when silence is preferred. He’s made me word puzzles and comics and stayed up late playing Scrabble with me (even though I beat him almost every time). He’s listened to me cry about school and family and jobs. He is everything I never knew I needed and everything I always knew I wanted.

The holidays have hit us hard. He’s recently been told he may have something called multiple myeloma- an incurable cancer, that gives a person an average of five years of continued life. Though this news has came as a shock, he continues to be exactly who has always been- spending his time worrying about me, rather than worrying about himself. He’s the most selfless individual I know- (he stayed late on Christmas Eve to work, so his co-workers could leave early) and a post like this would never be something that he would promote or encourage but when I’m overwhelmed and feeling helpless, the blogging community has always given me tremendous support and comfort, two things I desperately need at this time.

As I write this, the future is uncertain and we aren’t sure what’s happening. He’ll need to see an oncologist soon, to verify what’s going on in his body. My hope is that everyone who reads this think positive thoughts and if you are a person who prays, could you add him to your list? (You can refer to him as ‘brandy’s hot awesome dude’). If you don’t pray, please keep him in your heart. This cancer is only a possibility and I believe that the prayers and positive thoughts of people can make sure it never becomes a reality.

I want to give a big thank you to the blog owner who scraped their original blog plans and graciously put this up. My goal is to get as many people as possible to see and read this post. If you are reading this and want to help, copy and paste my plea into your blog or send a link through twitter, so more people can keep him in their thoughts. I would be so very grateful (even more grateful than I am to my friend who first showed me the picture of Ryan Reynolds on the cover of Entertainment Weekly. If you haven’t seen it, google it. You. Are. Welcome).

I realize this all sounds dramatic, a Lifetime movie in the making- but this is life. Right now. And I’m throwing away any hint of ego and am humbly asking for you to pray or think kind thoughts. If you are able to pass this on, thank you and if you know anything regarding MM- please email me (my email is on my blog). This isn’t a call for sympathy or a plea for pity. It’s just one girl hoping you can think positive thoughts for the person she adores. If my current heartache provides you with anything, let it be with the reminder that life is short, love is unbending and no one knows what could happen next. Maybe it is silly, but I really do believe that positive thoughts can make a huge difference. Thank you for reading this and if you haven’t already? Please tell someone you love them today.

I did.

2010: The One in Which Jesus = The Godfather

January 5, 2010

Sure, it’s that time of year where people make resolutions and whatnot. But I’m really not that imaginative. Also, I’m likely to break any kind of “do good, be healthier, stop mocking random strangers in the street” type of resolution anyway. Besides, who needs any other kind of resolution when your only goal for every day is to be more awesomer?

And yes, awesomer is now a word. Deal with it.

But since I’m a nice person and I love you peoples, I thought really hard and came up let LiLu come up with one tiny, practically insignificant, yet totally amazing resolution that I am determined to stick to…

New comment on your post #3294 “Ringing in the New Year, Riot-Wine Style
Author: Cheddar
Comment: I am inspired…I’m putting on my long johns and gettin’ down, Charlie style. Or maybe my dress. We’ll see where the night takes me.

On Thu, Dec 31, 2009 at 1:28 PM, LiLu wrote: Just so long as you’re not wearing REAL pants. Pants are for suckers.

On Thu, Dec 31, 2009 at 4:34 PM, Cheddar wrote: And I think I just figured out my New Year’s resolution: Pants are for suckers. Cheddar out.

On Thu, Dec 31, 2009 at 1:36 PM, LiLu wrote: You’re smarter than Jesus. (Don’t tell him I said that. Despite popular belief, dude holds grudges.)

On Thu, Dec 31, 2009 at 4:38 PM, Cheddar wrote: You definitely have to watch out for that guy. I hear he’s into that whole “eye for an eye” deal.

On Thu, Dec 31, 2009 at 1:40 PM, LiLu wrote: Medieval shit and all that. I like my thumbs where they are, thanks.

On Thu, Dec 31, 2009 at 4:42 PM, Cheddar wrote: LiLu Four Fingers just doesn’t have the right ring to it.

On Thu, Dec 31, 2009 at 1:43 PM, LiLu wrote: Not unless Scorsese’s offering me a part. Then I’m cool with it.

On Thu, Dec 31, 2009 at 4:49 PM, Cheddar wrote: True story. I guess if Jesus finds out we could just maybe kiss his ring and make everything better?

On Thu, Dec 31, 2009 at 1:50 PM, LiLu wrote: On this, the day of his daughter’s wedding. Excellent.

On Thu, Dec 31, 2009 at 4:51 PM, Cheddar wrote: Well done us.

And this, kids, is why I blog. We are some of the coolest people I know.

2010: The Year of the Pants Off, Dance Off. Or the year I get fired for not wearing pants. Or the year people call me easy for not wearing pants. Or the year I gain 400 pounds because I can’t go outside without pants on. Or all of the above. Whatever happens, the future looks bright.

Better Off Dead

December 29, 2009

Remember that time when I was all, “hey I’m gonna start a blog and write about my wacky life?” and then I did but then either my life stopped being wacky or I became an even bigger slacker than I used to be? Yeah, well here we are: me, the über blog slacker and you, the person who googled “cloudy pee” oddly dedicated reader.

I think I might be back with a vengeance or I may be getting waaaaay ahead of myself (most likely the latter). But I hear that around the end of the year normal people make resolutions to do better things in the next year or something. Since nothing around these parts qualifies as normal, I’m gonna go ahead and NOT do that. Especially since, so far, my list of things I want to do more of in 2010 includes: yelling (in a good way), kicking ass, blogging (instead of working), standing on things (tables, chairs, etc.), and using the word bitchen.

But, there’s change ahead, I think I can feel it. Either that, or I’m having a stroke. Does it smell like burnt toast in here? (Yes, I did just joke about strokes. Maybe this is why people keep their small children and pets away from me.)

Anyway, I’m not really sure where I was going with this, other than to say that maybe I’ll actually accomplish some of those things on that list I made because deep down inside I desperately want to be like Nicole (who is even cooler now that she’s The Bloggess‘ intern AND living across the Bay from me). And no, I’m not brown-nosing. I think it’s called a blog crush, or, at perhaps, mild creepiness and obsession.

Moving on, I’d just like to say that going forward I may be giving up free time that I should be spending helping the less-fortunate or working out, to return to my regular reading and commenting and writing which was much easier to do before I got what people keep telling me is a real job but in fact may be some sort of mini-series version of candid camera or punk’d. So, when I weigh 400 pounds and need a walker to get around, I’m going to blame the blogosphere. Which will probably result in me becoming a reality TV star, losing the weight, writing a hilarious blog about being overweight and making enough money to donate to charity to make up for the lack of community service. So I guess this new path is really going to work out for me in the end, so thanks in advance to all my favorite bloggers.

I’ve really careened off course here, although I don’t really remember what my original course was, so let’s just say I’m back on track. The good news is, I’ve got plenty to tell everyone because my life, in fact, has become more wacky in the last few months and, let’s get serious, with the holidays having just passed, I’ve got plenty of crazy family incidences to discuss.  And I mean crazy in the, ‘my parents indulged me/enabled my potential alcoholism by buying me chelada for Christmas,’ kind of way.

Don’t call it a comeback. No, really, don’t. I hear it takes 21 days to form a habit. And let’s be honest, the only thing I’m that dedicated to is drinking.

I’m In Love, I’m In Love and I Don’t Care Who Knows It

November 18, 2009

So, I know there are plenty of things I should have been writing about for the last few weeks that you might like to read (or maybe not?) like say, my 25th birthday celebration shitshow, my growing urge to jump out and/or push others out the window at work, how I didn’t go to Costa Rica, or the effect this whole having a real job and being an “adult” thing is having on my blogiverse/reader. But, to be honest, those stories don’t matter right now because I’M IN LOVE

with a stripper crockpot.

My baby

Yes, I realize I am a complete and utter nerd. And sure, you can laugh. But that’s probably because you don’t know the joys of having a slow cooker create delicious meals FOR YOU while you spend the day makin’ that paper at work. It is glorious.

As my roommate pointed out, “It’s beautiful and it cooks for you. What else do you need in true love? Plus it has sausage.”

Yeah, she went there. But really though, how many of you can say that much about your significant other? I mean, it’s dishwasher safe. That’s what I thought.

The crockpot is probably one of the greatest inventions of all time and I just wanted everyone to know that I love my shiny new crockpot that I got for my birthday. If I’m not careful, I might name it. I’m not a crockpot noob, but this is my first fancy slow cooker and I’m going to use it well.

Really, you can’t go wrong with this thing. It’s digital, it switches to “warm” when it’s done cooking, and you can pretty much just throw whatever is in your fridge in there and turn it on and it comes out delish (and it makes the house smell awesome). And there’s Stephanie’s blog with over 365 things you can make in a crockpot (including our favorite: BOOZE). All of these things add up to the crockpot being the greatest lazy people’s cooking tool ever created. It’s amazing and everyone should own one.

Plus, if you do it right, you won’t even burn the house down…TWSS

Slow cooking FTW!

PS – I promise not to be one of those girls who constantly talks about her crockpot and stands up for it even when it’s wrong and posts stupid pictures of us making out food with each other.

Halloween Baby

October 28, 2009

However you might feel about pumpkins, I think we can all agree that Halloween is truly a holiday for all ages to have a good time. Minus those “Halloween is a celebration of the devil for heretics and sinners” people, but let’s be honest that’s probably why all the cool kids love it.


File under: amazing, creepy, things PETA hates

It’s crazy to think that 25 years ago on All Hallow’s Eve, my mom was laid out on a surgery table having a giant, slimy, bloody, placenta-covered baby me pulled out of her. All 10 lbs., 10 oz. and 23 inches of me. Can you imagine? That poor woman was carrying a toddler, for a nice hot summer. No wonder I love her.

Anyway, I was thinking about getting all sentimental and deep about what 25 years old means to me, but then I remembered that Halloween is all about parties, candy, booze, sugar-highs, haunted houses, costumes, hangovers, trick-or-treating, scaring the shit out of others and general debauchery.

Besides, everybody knows that being deep is something to save for Arbor Day and the Summer Solstice.

With all the mischief and mayhem and excitement about being able to finally smoke buy porn drink rent a car on the cheap, I’ve been thinking (big ups to Jenn for the inspiration) a lot about the madness that has been being a Halloween baby. As if yearly costumed birthday parties and people (obviously) giving out candy in my honor weren’t enough, I went to the college capitol of STDs Halloween mania, where 30,000 of our closest friends celebrated my birthday with me every year. Therefore, compiling this list (yeah I said it) of my top 15 Halloween/birthday moments was a tough task, but somebody had to do it. What are your favorite Halloween memories? Here’s hoping I add some more on Saturday. Enjoy…


Reason why Star Wars fans should not procreate.

Cheddar’s Top 15 Halloween Birthday Moments

15. First birthday – Dove head first into the bobbing for apples tub. Pretty sure there were no apples left. Began impressive bobbing for apples career, ended by Bob Sanchez 19 years later (see #8)

14. Seventh birthday – Seven, seven-year-olds. Crying, pizza making, Mom left alone with us while Dad went to the movies. ‘Nuff said.

13. Eighth birthday – Crazy driver nearly hits children while trick-or-treating. Dad throws godson’s stroller at hood of car. Amazing.

12. 21st birthday – Bunkmate and I clear path of (hookup) destruction at party. Run into Bunkmate’s makeout partner (hickies and all) at Denny’s birthday brunch the next morning. Die laughing.

11. 18th birthday – Dorm friends head out on Nov. 1, nearly vomit at site of dirtiest kitchen in IV. Boxers McGee climbs rips open bathroom screen and climbs out of the window.

10. 24th birthday – Halloween in KnoxVegas. Followed around by super awkward Jamaican from my master’s classes.

9. Third birthday – Video evidence of my grandfather entering the house and scaring the shit out of me while wearing a Richard Nixon mask. Convinced it would still scare me today.

8. Ninth birthday – Mom makes cake of Candlestick Park, complete with baseball figurines. Cake falls apart. Mom freaks and buys a new cake, even though I like the Candlestick after the ’89 quake cake better. Jokes ensue.

7. 22nd birthday – Tuesday night at the Carlos Club (aka 5 people including the bartender and us): Samoan bartender makes us shots containing jager and crown royal, calls them “magic.” Possibly homeless man at the bar talks shit loudly about Native Americans. I somehow resist the urge to fight him. Thank goodness we lived within walking distance.

6. 13th birthday – Hotel party at the Embassy Suites. Pretty sure this was the one that convinced me I never want to have a daughter.

5. 19th birthday – Organize brief gathering for my birthday. Can’t convince roommates to bob for apples with me. Compete against two guy friends. Bob Sanchez beats me, on my birthday. Rips off shirt in triumph. (PS – I want a rematch)

4. 21st birthday – Sort of hookup with a Nigerian Prince. Throw a skinhead out of our house to meet the black guys he was yelling at. Do a happy dance knowing that he got his ass beat.

3. 10th birthday – Joint party at the park. Things go wrong when the other birthday girl gets clocked in the head rocked by rogue pinata. Classic.

2. First birthday – Family friend rides off down the street on a Big Wheel in a Rainbow Brite costume. Parents don’t realize she’s missing for several minutes.

1. 21st birthday – Engage in drinking competition with an 18-year-old. At work. After being at the bars for several hours. Stealth barf in my office. Pass out on couch. Wake up with pink cardigan and “I love my body” pin. Call it a success.