adventures in awkward

You ever have one of those days where absolutely nothing goes right? Like… all this random crap comes out of nowhere and piles on your shoulders until all your brain can manage to do is shut down while you sit in a corner and chomp on a tube of cookie dough like it’s a perfectly roasted turkey leg. My mind does this a lot in stressful times. I want to just not deal with things that give me anxiety. It’s easier to hide in my basement in the dark binge-watching Gilmore Girls for the 100th time rather than actually, you know… live life.

Monday morning Alex and I were gifted a wall of graffiti on our car. Some young, shitty kid with terrible parents thought it would be funny to take a Sharpie to our freshly waxed Audi. Well, I’m guessing it was a kid considering one of the words this little prick wrote was “lamo.” I’m assuming he meant ‘lame-o,’ but… education has obviously failed this little bastard. Other words he wrote: “die, bitch, fuck you, stupid, haha, you suck.” We are dealing with a genius here, guys.  Honestly, I figured it was an isolated incident so we spent a few hours trying to wash it off and called it a day. Until we woke up Tuesday morning and it was there again so we figured it was time to get the police involved.

There is no doubt in my mind that this is the work of the Neighbor Boy I’ve blogged about multiple times. You know, the kid whose bike I borrowed and whose balls I kicked in when he walked right into my front door with no warning. I’ve also made him fall into a nice hot puddle full of dog poop I awkwardly borrowed from my neighbor when he wouldn’t stop jumping our fence and trampling the flowers. We have a sordid past, but this is the first time it’s gone criminal. We live in one of the safest towns in America, yet we had to install multiple home surveillance cameras to try and catch this shithead in the act. I was hoping to take it to his parents if we get the video, but Alex wants to instantly turn it over to police and put it on his record.

The saga continues. This time I’ll give a point to Neighbor Boy. Subject to change whether we catch him on camera or not. If I can get the cops to scare the ever-loving shit out of him, I’ll award myself an extra point. #TeamBlair (Yes, I just hashtagged in the middle of a blog post.)

(Also, sorry if I missed/was super late responding to your comments on my last blog. Alex and I went to the mountains for a week, then when we got back we’ve been in a constant shitstorm of vandalizing and our cat had some medical issues that needed immediate attention. I still love you. I promise. *Wipes tear.*)

Blair: 3
Neighbor Boy: 1 

(Links to previous posts are below! Also in the middle of the post, but it’s  a lot nicer looking down here.)

help yourself to some tasty poop water (3/19/2016)
aim for the goods (5/18/2016)
i’m a petty thief (4/28/2017)

 

 

adventures in awkward

I had one of those strange moments the other day when I was laying down in bed with a hot cup of tea on my night stand and two purring kitties draped across my legs. I was happy. In my comfortable pillow-top bed with my favorite Harry Potter blasting loudly on the TV. (That’s the Half-Blood Prince. Obviously the best. Anyone who disagrees probably smells like farts.) I mean… can life really get much better than that? Doubtful. Then… I remembered what happened in Manchester the day before and started feeling guilty for having everything so good in life while other people are suffering and in pure devastation. I was ashamed of my happiness. Of how easy I have it. How amazing my husband is when women are treated like dogs in other countries (and sometimes even here, sadly.) For having family that would support me no matter the circumstance when others are dumped on the street and homeless with nowhere to turn.  I was physically ill over these poor people who were murdered trying to enjoy a concert, when I was sitting in bed enjoying all of my favorite things.  Life is cruel and unfair.

It was very much a “why me?” moment in my life. Except instead of being down on my luck and wondering “why is this happening to me?” it was the complete opposite. How did I get so lucky? I’m not even that nice of a person, so it’s definitely not something I deserve. I’ve been trying to come up with ways to actually help and make a difference. What do you guys do? I don’t want to be one of those people who post #prayforManchester (or whatever the current tragedy is) because it’s trendy and actually do nothing about it. Seriously, how many of the people who posted that on social media do you think really prayed or did anything to help? Probably not a lot.

It’s terrible how powerless you can be when there are so many people suffering.

(Usually I post humor, but I strayed from the theme this time! Sometimes it’s just necessary to branch out when the world is going to shit. Back to normal programming next post <3)

adventures in awkward

I wish depression was tangible so I could go all Lizzie Borden on its ass and swing an ax in its face 40 times. That’d be fair, right? Something has to be done because it’s not like it’s doing me any favors or anything. I’ve been hiding lately because, well… my brain has been in timeout. I should be back functioning and writing more often soon. There really needs to be a pause button on racing thoughts/doubt/paranoia/crazyshit so they aren’t constantly flooding our heads. All I need is a break. Is that too much to ask?

bringiton

Alex and I are desperately counting down the days until we are able to leave for vacation. This weekend we are going to the mountains to hike/find waterfalls and stay in a resort in western North Carolina. At the end of June, we will meet up with my family and stay in the Outer Banks at a beach house for a week. We are so close, yet so far. In the meantime, I found this hilarious list on Reddit about real reviews of vacations people went on. Sometimes the stupidity of people is the best way to brighten your day. They are a good reminder that, hey… at least you don’t live life with your thumb in your ass and no common sense.

Here we go…

“They should not allow topless sunbathing on the beach. It was very distracting for my husband who just wanted to relax.”  (Are you married to a toddler?  Surprisingly, people have the ability to control what they look at! Crazy, isn’t it?)

“The beach was too sandy. We had to clean everything when we returned to our room.”  

“No one told us there’d be fish in the water. The children were scared.” (Stop raising pussies. They don’t contribute much to society.)

(Don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m just kidding.)

buzzlife
“Although the brochure said that there was a fully equipped kitchen, there was no egg-slicer in the drawers.” (It’s called a knife in most countries, dipshit.)

“I think it should be explained in the brochure that the local convenience store does not sell proper biscuits like custard cremes or ginger nuts.” (What the hell are these things? I’ve never heard of them!)

“It took us nine hours to fly home from Jamaica to England. It took the Americans only three hours to get home. This seems unfair.”

“When we were in Spain, there were too many Spanish people there. The receptionist spoke Spanish, the food was Spanish. No one told us that there would be so many foreigners.”

“It is your duty as a tour operator to advise us of noisy or unruly guests before we travel.”  (Did you want the operator to change your Depends for you too?)

“I was bitten by a mosquito. The brochure didn’t mention mosquitoes.”

We are surrounded by geniuses, folks. Be scared.

Do you have any plans for relaxing this summer? Vacations? Staycations? Laying around on the couch like a vegetable while you stuff yourself full of ice cream and margaritas?

adventures in awkward, giveaways

Why does it seem like the majority of bloggers are much cooler than the people I meet in person? I’ve said this a few times here, but I’m reiterating because it seems strangely true. I’d rather fall ass-first into a dildo factory or have someone crap in my hand at a Broadway show and be forced to give a standing ovation than meet random schmucks in person. So, because I love you guys, and because the weather has been hot and sunny and putting this negative Nancy in a good mood, I wanted to do a small Amazon gift card giveaway this week.  I mean, who doesn’t want a free $20 to Amazon? They have just about everything. (And I can just email it out, so you don’t have to worry about me showing up at your doorstep with a meat pie made of roadkill I scraped off my driveway.)

I’m just doing this for fun, so the only thing you need to do in order for a chance to win is answer the question below in the comment section. You can enter up until Tuesday night 04/18 at 11:59pm EST. I’ll post the winner on Wednesday morning. If you have Amazon in whatever country you live in – you are eligible to win.

(Benny D. Sheep and the cat’s butt are not included in the giveaway. If you follow me on Twitter, Benny is the smaller version of the huge sheep I found in Kroger the other day. Isn’t he cute?)

Maybe one day I’ll actually make some sort of money of this blog, and I can start doing big giveaways. That would be fun.

Here’s the random question you need to answer in order to enter: If you could eat anything you wanted right now, what would it be?

adventures in awkward

I feel overwhelmingly stressed lately. This has far surpassed the slight worry over what I’m going to make for dinner or the best way to organize my prized box of multicolored beanie babies that’s hidden away in a locked, temperature controlled storage room on the other side of town. They are worth so much money, they really do deserve the best treatment.  I’m deep into the realm of feeling like I’m trapped on the beach and someone is burying me alive under the weight of a thousand pounds of sand. I’m suffocating. The weird part is – nothing has really changed, so I don’t know why it has come on so suddenly. That’s likely the problem – I’m ready for a change that just hasn’t come yet.

So, today I’ve convinced my husband to finally go see Beauty and the Beast with me. And, you know what… I’m throwing caution to the wind. I’m going for the M&Ms. No, fuck it. I’m getting peanut M&Ms. I’m so tired of having to count/measure every single bite that goes into my damn mouth. Why can’t I just be naturally skinny like my siblings? I really got screwed on the gene pool. Being in a constant state of trying to lose weight and work out has me feeling like I’m tiptoeing into crazy town. Why can’t pizza, cupcakes, and a plate of good southern bbq be healthy and rabbit food be what’s killing us? Why, God, WHY? Why do this to us? The inhumanity. (Okay, I’m done with my hissy-fit. Nothing to see here. Carry on.)

The only thing that’s blatantly spiking my anxiety is my cats, so if you’re a cat lover/owner/trainer/whatever,  and you have any advice for a situation I’m in – it would be much appreciated. I don’t want to go deep into it on here, but it has to do with cats not getting along/stalking/litter box aggression. If you could message me on Twitter or email me at theshamefulsheep@yahoo.com I’ll love you forever and maybe even send you cookies. Or maybe I’ll just eat a cookie in your honor. That’s the same…right?

adventures in awkward

Since I’ve started writing a novel, I feel like my mind is in a constant state of playing everything out. There’s a movie on loop playing in my head. I’m always thinking about what could happen, or what my characters are doing, and I’m pretty sure it’s driving me to the brink of insanity. Which sounds kind of thrilling, but it’s actually pretty terrifying when you can’t concentrate on anything else. It’s starting to seep into my dreams at night, too, and since my novel is a murder mystery/teen sleuth, this isn’t bringing along dreams of playful puppies tumbling down a field of wildflowers and kittens cuddling underneath a Skittles rainbow. My dreams are more in the realm of brutal slayings, the decapitation of pedophiles, and throwing a stabby porcupine at an unsuspecting stranger’s face. Anybody up for some free acupuncture? It’s an intense way to wake up every morning. Which leads me to a question Alex and I discussed at length yesterday:

If the person you love most in this world (spouse/boyfriend/girlfriend/sister/best friend/whatever) killed a pedophile instead of reporting it to police, would you flee the country/hide with them or turn them in? The pedophile wasn’t attacking anyone, or doing anything at the time your person found out so it wasn’t self defense, they were just angry and wanted to end him for being a sick fuck. Are you turning them in because you want nothing to do with it? Or do you love them to the point you are willing to give up your life to protect them and live on the run? I’m curious what your answers are, because Alex and I had opposing ones. Dun dun dun…

Also, how do you not become so consumed by what you’re writing about? Is this normal? I’m assuming this is why most creative artists are the depressive type. Pretty soon I’m going to be shaving my head and chanting around a bonfire in my backyard wearing nothing but nipple tassels and a baby diaper. Okay, probably not, but you see where I’m going.

adventures in awkward

Random-As-Shit Thursday Thoughts

1. I’ve come to the conclusion the last few days that I’m a terrible person. Not that I’m on the level of pushing bratty little kids down the stairs or rubbing my naked ass all over the neighbor’s cars after a recent trip to the bathroom, but I’m up there. I’ve propelled into the early stages of ‘grumpy old woman’ syndrome even though I’m barely 30. I had a conversation with Alex yesterday about how disappointed he was that he was unable to help his brother move this weekend due to wrist tendinitis. I mean, I figured he must’ve been promised an endless supply of pizza and beer or something… but he wasn’t. He was just looking forward to the act of helping someone who needed it. What? Is this normal? How do I get to be like this? The thought of helping somebody move their crap is on par with walking blindfolded into the middle of oncoming traffic for me. Why am I such a negative Nancy? Do normal people actually just enjoy doing whatever they have to in order to help someone without ever expecting them to return the favor, or is my husband just a saint?  I need some Jesus or something.

2. I’ve been hiding this past week because I’ve ventured into uncharted territory and, man… these rocky waves are making me seasick as hell. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to hack it. I started writing a book a few days ago. Now, this is something I’ve been putting off for a long time even though there’s been characters and scenes stuck in my head for almost a year. I was waiting for the right time and I think I’m finally ready for their story to be told. The only problem is that I already hate what I’ve written and want to restart. How do I get past the self criticism? Am I ever going to like the shit that I write? How do authors do it? I’m my own worst enemy.

(Is it sad I saw this sticky note on the box an instantly thought, ‘BUT BACON! What about bacon?’ Sorry about the shitty quality.)

3. People are making life insufferable lately. I can’t walk around Barnes and Noble without hearing people talk about anti-Islamic hate groups or go into my grocery store without being chastised about eating meat. A few days ago I spent a solid 30 minutes going through my Twitter feed, turning off some people’s re-tweets because all it is (literally 20 times in a row) is people complaining about Trump. (I love you guys, but you are killing me.) My ENTIRE feed was related to politics – the thing I try my hardest to avoid in life. We get it. Trump is a psychotic, orange, hateful mother fucker who may very well cause a new war. I like to live in a bubble though, when you have extreme anxiety it does wonders. (I know this is going to offend some people I follow on Twitter. It’s not personal – I love your blogs and want to see your tweets. I just turned off re-tweets. Yes, you are allowed to be pissed and angry over Trump. This is just self-preservation.)

adventures in awkward

I’m having one of those days where I don’t feel like writing. Or talking. Or being awake and functioning at all. Depression… such a fickle bitch. Creeps up behind you when you least expect it and wraps its Voldemort-esque fingers around your neck and chokes you like a bad scene in one of those Fifty Shades of Grey movies. Except it’s a lot less pleasurable because at least the girl in that scenario is getting something fun out of it. Ya know? I’m forcing myself to write anyways, though, because isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Slap a smile on, pretend everything is great, and that unicorns are frolicking around your backyard farting out cupcakes? Cupcakes actually sound pretty good right now.  I’m pretty sure if I could have any superpower, it would be farting out cupcakes.

I’m skipping my ‘Random-As-Shit Thursday Thoughts’ post for today. Maybe I’ll do it this weekend, or maybe not at all this week. Being in a funk makes me a risk-taking rebel. Who knows, maybe I’ll spring an extra shot of sugar-free syrup in my coffee later or eat more than half of a cookie for dessert. You never know what’s coming. I’m just so unpredictable.

Here’s my Random-Ass-Poll for the week. Yay! Answer honestly – It’s anonymous. I mean, I’m sure I could somehow hunt down your IP and figure out who voted what, but I can barely get my email to work, so no worries. Your secrets will stay hidden!

[Total_Soft_Poll id=”8″]

adventures in awkward

Random-As-Shit Thursday Thoughts

Long before I started this blog, I had a baking blog. SURPRISE! If I could do anything when I grow up (forget for a moment that I’m 30, married, and spend the majority of my nights knitting as I watch Golden Girls reruns like a crotchety old woman) besides writing, I would be a chef/baker. I’ve thought about revisiting the old blog a lot lately, but… I have a serious problem. What the hell do I do with all the shit I make? I can’t eat all that sugar. I don’t understand how people who are baking things three times a week at home avoid weighing 600 pounds? Where does it go? Who can I pawn stuff off to? WHAT DO I DO? 

I’ve made a dire mistake. I offered my brother-in-law and his family of five to stay in our house for a few weeks. They are moving out of a rental house and buying one, but for some reason the bank has put a short delay on the loan process. I was in a good mood and trying to be extra kind for a change, but the second I got home the panic set in. What did I get myself into? As someone with pretty severe social anxiety, having five extra people in my house 24/7 is the stuff of nightmares. How am I going to avoid them without seeming rude? *Deep breath* 32 days left until we are invaded by messy children and hell rains down on the Sheep household. Pray for us.

I would rather have my nipples bit by ravenous mosquitoes than go to the gym, but I’ve been making a concentrated effort lately because I wanted to kick off February strong. Now, to preface this story, I have to let y’all know I have a severe bathroom phobia. When you throw in the ‘gym’ factor – where every ass that touches the seat is smelly and covered in sweat – it gets a thousand times worse. I had to pee so badly yesterday, but I thought it would be smarter to hold it. Well, that was until I got to the squat machine and peed myself a little. Yep, I peed myself. In public. Like a three-year-old who didn’t want to use the potty. For shame. 

adventures in awkward

I’ve been hiding lately. It started off as a small blogging break, but ended up with me hiding in the basement with nothing but my cats and a never-ending supply of Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal. I might be exaggerating a tiny bit, but when you have social anxiety it pretty much feels that way. I’ve been meaning to start posting again for over a month now, but anxiety is a middle school bully that likes to rough me up and shove my head in dirty toilets while cackling maniacally as my hair gets sucked right off my scalp. I’m here, though. Finally. Screw bullies. Sorry it took so long.waldoback

I’ve had numerous comments/emails/msgs on Twitter about my disappearance. If I’ve worried you – I’m sorry. I feel like I’ve got to know a lot of awesome people on here, and it was a dick move for me to go MIA. I’m an ass. It’s going to take me awhile to catch up with all of your blogs again, but I’m on it. Just give me a few days.

Upon finally coming back after months, I’ve also realized my email was hacked. (I think?) I don’t know much about computers, so I’m working on getting it fixed. If you’ve received spam from me, sorry. Hopefully you didn’t click any sketchy links that made it so your computer was stuck on a picture of a man jerking off. (That happened to me when I was 15. No, I wasn’t looking at porn. I had to ask my dad to fix it and he never believed me. It was painfully awkward.)

I missed all of y’all. The majority of you are 1,000 times better than the people I meet in real life. Hope you’re all doing well.