Wednesday, September 14, 2011

How to Avoid A Burt Bee's Chapstick Shanking...

I try to set goals for myself that I know I probably won't achieve.

I am fairly certain that this means I am totally awesome at failing.

See How Suggestively Happy
this woman is to her beloved
office pen... 
When I birthed this blog I set a goal for myself, at least 3 posts per week. I figured this was an acceptable amount of pressure to put on myself, because, hey what the hell else was I going to do at work besides pen the great american novel (which is actually harder than I originally assumed). Like any great love affair it started out wonderfully, full of that butterflies in your stomach-- I hope we don't get caught dry humping in the car -- let's meet up at lunch in a remote location induced thrill/panic. Inevitably the blog started becoming really clingy and demanding; I was spending more and more time on Twitter and then I started seeing other people, namely other projects that required my full attention, unrelenting little hot numbers like monthly financial reports and those slutty work related emails with their pornographic requests for certain types of pens to be ordered with the monthly office supply run. It was just too much fucking temptation.
Total adoration is my kryptonite.
This Stack of Papers is just sooo SEXY

To make matters worse this sexy, slinky minx of a devil aptly named "my boss's Visa renewal hell" has completely consumed me, and like the jealous whore she is has threatened to ruin me if I don't comply with her every whim. I'm really beginning to hate that bitch.

So this is where my blog productivity dropped to 0% and gave me the finger and threw all my clothes at me while pedantically screaming "really, you stepped out on me with sans serif font mother fucker, that shit isn't even readable! Serif font gives definition to each letter so your eye can pick it up and read it faster dumb fuck. Don't touch me!" Suffice to say my break ups are always super messy.

But just before you get all "team blog" on my ass can I mention that this hooker right here stole my God Damn funny and forced me to write bitch ass posts of pure literary torture....oh the horror!
If this doesn't make you spill all your
secrets, I got a tape of high pitched baby
screaming that will.....

In the mean time my children were busy at home getting the stomach flu, a sinus infection and a double ear infection which means that I haven't slept in about a month -- which means that if you want to live you better get the fuck out of my way and just smile nicely at me unless you actually want to get shanked by my Burt Bee's chapstick.

I was pretty sure that my blog and I were finished, we weren't really even on texting terms, but what can I say except that I really like punishment. I think the make up was mutual and I promised I would make every effort to swing by more, maybe twice a week, you know take it slow... so far so good.

While I was on haitus from here and seeing other textual (like the new word... sounds like sexual, but it's not, chortle chortle!) sluts I attempted to drown my overwhelming grief in box wine with my sister in laws and cousin. Forthwith please find our life altering conversation... (and for the simplicity of this conversation said sister in laws shall be named thing one and thing two)

Me: You know what we should do
Thing 1: karaoke
Me: Awesome.... but no
Thing 2: What...
Me: Have a passion party. How funny would tbat be
Thing 2: I always wanted to throw one.
Me: Let's get really drunk first so we can giggle inappropriately through the whole thing
Thing 1: What's a passion party?
Thing 2: It's where you like get together and look at vibrators and lube and stuff
Thing 1: And why do people have these parties
Me: To get drunk
Thing 2: To spice up the bedroom
Thing 1: Oh... (takes a big sip from cup) is there like strippers there?
Me: That's called a bachelorette party
Thing 2: We could get strippers
Cousin: We're going to see strippers, males or females?
Me: No we're going to throw a Passion Party
Cousin: Are we getting drunk first
Me: Hell yeah
Thing 1: So wait what do you do at a Passion Party?
Me: Get drunk
Thing 1: But don't we already do that without the party?
Cousin: Hell yeah
Thing 2: But I really want to throw one
Cousin: What, throw a stripper?
Me: Me too
Thing 2: No a Passion Party
Thing 1: Why is it called a Passion Party?
Me: We're out of wine
Cousin: Shit
Phubster: What the hell are you girls talking about
Cousin: Strippers
Thing 1: Lube
Thing 2: Passion
Me: You really don't want to know....

And there you have it, more proof that I should be more faithful to my blog and little less faithful to my box-o-wine. I should also probably take the girls to go see the "Thunder Down Under," who's coming with me.............

Photos courtesy of