rambles

I’ve been plagued with the cold-from-hell for over a week and strung out on so much cold medicine I could barely comprehend some of the comments you guys left on my last post. So, I’m sorry if I responded with something that made no sense. It was the drugs. The drugs, I tell you! I’ve been MIA but I’m starting to catch up with everyone’s blogs tonight finally!

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I don’t have the mental capacity to write today so I’m going to do something totally batshit crazy over here and respond to an award nomination I received. Sort of. I’m going to respond to Lady Dickson’s questions because she kicks ass but, instead of nominating people I’m just going to ask YOU guys a couple questions at the bottom so we can get to know each other a little better. We’re all friends here, right? Answer my damn questions then! (kidding, kidding.)

Lady Dickson’s questions for me:

  1. Where’s the farthest you’ve traveled from home? I don’t travel much so… the Caribbean? I’m boring. Someone come take me on vacation! 
  2. If you could have witnessed any major historical event, which would you choose? Is it sad I can’t think of anything? Most historical things that come to mind are tragedies… I think I’ll stick with the present.
  3. What is your go to conversation starter? I don’t have one as I try not to start conversations! The woe of a socially awkward crazy lady.
  4. Why did you start a blog? To meet and connect with people while doing something I love (writing)
  5. What is your favourite and least favourite word? Slice/Mortified (Not sure why it’s my favorite, but I sure say it a lot !)
  6. Have you ever been stung by a bee? Five too many times
  7. Who is your favourite comedian? Nick Swordson (A totally random but totally hilarious guy)
  8. Which cartoon character is your spirit animal? Garfield.garfield
  9. What movie have you walked out on/did you wish you walked out on? Anchorman. I walked out on it the first time I saw it. Then I watched it again at home a year later and loved it. Not sure what my deal was the first time around.
  10. How many cats is too many cats to own? Is this a joke? You can’t have too many cats…

Here are my questions for y’all: 

  1. If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?
  2. Would you rather be forced to wear fish-scented deodorant all day, or pants made out of bologna? 
  3. If you could punch somebody you know in the face right now, who would it be and why? (Someone you know! I know everybody wants to punch Trump already lol)
  4.  Who is your favorite blogger and why? Share their link!

Answer some or all!

rambles

You know when you’re down on your luck, going through a terrible time, and all you want to do is drown yourself in a vat of melted chocolate? Then, you lean on your loved one for support and they say, “don’t worry, everything happens for a reason.” Really? Am I the only one who gets stabby over this saying? My dog got run over for a reason? How comforting.

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Now, obviously people say this because they think they are helping, so I can’t fault them too much. I’m equally bad at comforting people. I never know what to say, so I just try to smile and offer to buy them pizza. “Oh, you lost your job? Does that mean you want your pizza with extra cheese then?” I’m terrible at it. Once my friend was crying because her boyfriend suddenly broke up with her and I tried to make it better by doing a dance for her. I even made up a song to go with it. It made her cry harder. Oops.

Be careful who you say ‘things happen to a reason’ to. Things are more personal than that. Things are more traumatic than that. There is no good reason for many things to happen – rape, cancer, infertility, child abuse/molestation, the list goes on.

(PS – Nothing traumatic is happening to me, and I don’t even own a dog. No worries, friends)

rambles

In 2014, I ghosted my best friend of 15 years. You know, totally fell of the face of the Earth and dropped all forms of contact with her. I’m not proud of it. There is no denying this is the coward’s way out. But sometime’s you’ve gotta gotta fight fire with fire when you’re dealing with toxic people, and in this case, fighting with fire means doing some totally cool and unnerdy magic tricks and making myself disappear. Abracadabra!

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(Photo credit goes to littlebiddy. Go check out their blog!)

I was trying to end my friendship with her years ago… and then she got engaged to my brother. Awkward, right? It wasn’t worth it  to put my entire family at war with each other, so I dealt with her. Even when she broke into my house. Then again when she stole money from me. I even shrugged it off when she told me she had a thing for my dad. (100% true. Sick, isn’t it?) When they called their engagement off, she told me, “It’s no big deal. I’m realizing now I didn’t care about being married to your brother, I just wanted to be part of your family so bad.” Her obsession with my family still gives me the heebie-jeebies.

Part of me wishes I went about it more maturely. Part of me wishes I was more outspoken about it. Part of me doesn’t regret it at all. This chick was toxic and brought out the worst in me. It was pure insanity.

Life is just too short for some of this bullshit.

Some people just shouldn’t be in your life, you know? Have you ever been ghosted? Ghosted someone? Had someone date your sibling or want to bang your dad? Cringe

(PS – The majority of people don’t deserve to be ghosted. People deserve closure. Unless they steal your shit and break into your house, do them a favor and just let them know why you don’t like them and honor them by telling them to piss off. Being up front always works.)

adventures in awkward

Saturday morning my niece thought it would be hilarious to pants me at our family brunch in the middle of talking to my father-in-law. Yep, there I was… standing, minding my own business and talking about how easy it was to make sloppy joes… and down came the pants. I wasn’t sure if I should be more embarrassed by the fact I hadn’t shaved above the knee in a few days, or that my underwear had cat whiskers on it. Either way – mortifying. You’re welcome for the show, Dad. Me-ow.

For some reason my nieces and nephews don’t look at me like I’m a 30-year-old adult, but rather a very large child. Which means any time they are around I’m usually limping around the house pretending to be a purple giraffe that got it’s leg run over by a rogue safari Jeep or something along those lines. It’s better than wine and cheese, really. It’s fun. It’s crazy. It’s a goddamn blessing. It saves me from a lot of awkwardly boring small talk. (Social anxiety’s mortal enemy.) Who the hell wants to spend family time talking about politics and car issues anyway? I’m good on that, thanks.

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Pro-tip to my fellow adult-sized children: wear a belt. Nobody want’s to see your kitty’s whiskers.

Hope y’all have a good weekend and are successful in keeping your pants on. Unless, well, you know

(PS- Sorry if you got the ‘new post’email twice. I posted it on accident yesterday when I wanted to post it today. Forgive me! I hate when people repost their same blogs over and over just to get more views, so I feel ya. It won’t happen again, folks)

 

rambles

Ever see something so disturbing you wish you could rip your eyes out and trade them in for a new set? Or, at the very least, have the option of inviting over the Men in Black and having them zap away some unpleasant memories? Wouldn’t that be nice? Damn. I read a news article yesterday that reminded me of something last year that haunted me on a daily basis. Prepared to be disturbed. Or offended. Either is okay…. we’re all friends here.

Men-in-Black

Last summer, I took my 6-year-old niece to the birthday party of one of her classmates. Now, I don’t have any kids and always feel awkward in these situations, so I like to pretend I’m busy on my phone besting my Angry Birds score or something. (It sucks being socially awkward, you know?) Then, another classmate at the party came up to me to talk about the game while she was eating some birthday cake.

Girl: Oh, I’m way past that score! Here… I can show you how to play it right.

Girl’s Mom (to me): Oh, you don’t have to let her use your phone. She just can’t put the electronics down!

Me: Oh, that’s okay. I’m impressed at her game skills.

Girl: I’m thirsty mom, can I have milk?

Girl’s Mom: Sure, come sit here. *Takes her boob out to breastfeed*

*6-year-old girl runs over to suck her mom’s boob while she’s wrecking my Angry Birds score. Phone is officially declared to be in a hostage situation at this point.*

I was…. mortified.

Now… let me just say this – I fully support the movement for normalizing breastfeeding. I think people make a big deal out of it when it shouldn’t be. But… I can’t help but be disturbed by this. The situation legitimately made me feel sick to my stomach. This girl is in 1st grade and eating normal food like cake. The only thing I could manage to do was ask for my phone back and use the bathroom excuse. GOTTA GO, CAN’T WAIT!

How would you have reacted to this situation? Are you disturbed? Weirded out? Slightly nauseous? Or do you think this is 100% normal and okay?

What is going on? This is why I try to stay home as often as possible.

rambles

When I was in college I was invincible. Life is fleeting, and all I knew back then was that I wanted every moment to count. Every moment to be memorable. Which explains the years that I thought it was completely justifiable to get drunk, rip my clothes off, and run down the street with a bong clutched in my hand and tassels dangling from my nipples. Or when I didn’t think twice about bungee-jumping in that really sketchy neighborhood in Mexico for only $5. Smart? No. Memorable? Definitely. Hey, I never claimed to be the smartest person.  Don’t judge.

Yesterday I got word that my sister-in-law wanted to go sky-diving for her 30th birthday with all of the adults in our family. I was, well…. horrified. Seriously. In the last decade life has become a lot more fragile. I make sure I’m more careful and avoid any unnecessary risks. I have an amazing husband and future goals that I’m not ready to put on the line for a cheap thrill. Of course, Alex was excited about the prospect of going before I shot him a nervous look and he decided to back down from the idea. I’m such a bore and a damper on a good time. Whoops.

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Would you want to go sky diving for your birthday? What if you had 3 young children and a lot to put on the line if, heaven forbid, something went wrong? Have you gone sky diving and think it’s totally safe (enough for me to not worry about my husband going?)

 

marriage, rambles, things that matter

Earlier today my morning breath was so bad it made my husband gag. Rather than let me go get my shit in order he took some few deep breaths and powered through. Gotta respect a person who can deal with your gross qualities even when it tastes like a rat wiped its ass with your tongue. I know, I’m ruining the picture in your mind of how glamorous my life is. This is the sad reality, folks. You better believe it. (Don’t judge – your breath in the morning isn’t minty fresh either. Who’re you trying to fool?)

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I’ve been trying to look at the things in life that make me happy because it makes me a more thankful person. You know, just the small things. Like my cats loving me so much they drop a cockroach on my pillow in the middle of the night. Or, even though I repulse Alex to the point of gagging sometimes, he will still go see Zootopia and share some Skittles and a blue slushie with me. (Yes, I’m a 29-year-old child.) I’m even thankful for my niece who told me I should probably step away from said Skittles because I need some help before bathing suit season. Thanks for the brutal honesty, kid.

When life takes a shit on you and you’re wading through a rough patch, it’s nice to remember the small stuff. Even if the great things you have are cloaked in unexpected disguises. You’ll just have to look a bit harder.

rambles, things that matter

When I was young I convinced the other kids in my neighborhood that my dad invented farting. I had one hell of an imagination back then. I thought it was a fun game to see what absurd shit I could convince other kids of. (Kids will believe anything so, why not? Fun for everyone.) For days, every time they saw my dad they’d laugh and congratulate him on his great discovery. He had no idea what was going on so he’d just stand there and awkwardly stare at them like they were walking around with a foot growing out of their faces. The ruse went on for awhile until my sister finally told them it was impossible for someone to invent a bodily function and that I was just fucking with them. She thought it was important I remained honest. I was pissed and hated her for ruining my fun. That bitch.

daeneryswomanMy sister has always looked out for me and tried to keep me on the right path. Even going as far as smelling my armpits to make sure I really did put deodorant on when I said I did. Or being the one to teach me how to shave my legs. She is by far the most badass and influential person that I know. Even though I’m a day late for International Women’s Day, it doesn’t even matter. She’s celebrated in my mind every day.

Thanks, Moe, for smelling my armpits and telling the neighbors that we aren’t heiresses to the fortune of fart discovery. 

(Random question – I’m thinking of making a new header for my site, but I’m terrible at doodling. If any of you are good at drawing and interested in doing a simple doodle for me, email me at theshamefulsheep@gmail.com if you want to work something out)

rambles

Remember when the hardest decision you’d have to face all day was what flavor Kool-Aid you wanted to have? It was an important choice, fueled by the fear that if you didn’t pick the right one, it wouldn’t complement the taste of your Flintstone’s vitamins. I ate those like crack when I was a kid. When my mom wasn’t looking I’d crawl onto the counter and steal an entire handful and shove them into my grubby little mouth. She caught me once, and moved them to a place where I couldn’t reach no matter how hard I tried. That was the first time I remember wishing that fire would rain down on her. How dare she do such a thing! The nerve of that woman.

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Yesterday Alex and I were having a lengthy conversation about Hot Pockets. I know… wtf, right? We talk about some random shit in my house. Hot Pockets aren’t exempt. When I was a kid, I thought Hot Pockets were the best invention. I even wrote a small report on them for school about their greatness. I thought that they were packaged in something that would,quite literally, keep them hot while they were in your pocket. Great for people who wanted a snack while they were in class or people who couldn’t take a break at work. I was amazed. What a genius idea.

So, I didn’t grow up wanting to be a ballerina or a veterinarian. I grew up wanting to work for whoever made Hot Pockets. My parents wanted me to aim high. So I did.

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I love the innocence of childhood. Luckily, I’m surrounded by young nieces and nephews to remind me how great life is when you’re young. Actually, I’m going to leave y’all with a joke my 4-year-old niece told me last weekend that had her rolling around in laughter.

A hippo put on a purple coat.

 

 

…….. I wish I was as funny as her.

 

conversations, rambles

Visiting my parents is always interesting – mainly because they are tiptoeing the fine line of descent into crazy-town. Their responses to things have always been questionable… like the time my sister was brought home by the police because she was caught drunk, underage, and hanging her bare ass out of a moving vehicle. Or the time my brother tried to unsuccessfully grow weed in a dark corner of his room. But, we were polite and got good grades. That was all that mattered back then. 

Alex and I saw them in NYC a few months ago, and this particular conversation happened in the middle of a crowded restaurant. (The people sitting next to us were not amused.)

Dad: I’m ready to leave the city and retire. Too much weirdness here. And people are proud of it. What the hell happened to keeping things private? Too much Facebook and crap. Even the guys in the building across from ours leave the curtains wide open when they have visitors. Jesus. What’s the world coming to?

Me: Oh, God…

Dad: Yep. These kids have no shame. There’s new women over every night. And they have the hoochiest clothes on. It’s like the red light district. You can see everything. People holding their legs open, kneeling, heads bobbing. It’s hummer city over there.

Me: Oh, gross. Do we have to talk about this here?

Dad: Blair… don’t be rude. Hookers need love, too. 

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(Dad – you are inappropriate, graphic, a little bit ridiculous, and a lot of crazy. Thanks for being awesome.)