Monday, October 31, 2011

It's Halloween!! Now Give Me Candy.

Happy Halloween, mother fuckers. I'm currently writing this in the pitch darkness of my living room because I'm an asshole and forgot to get candy for the trick or treaters. I figured it would deter the kids from pounding on my front door if it looked like no one was home.

 I was wrong.

Those kids are persistent little fuckers. They pound on the door and I freeze, because I'm afraid if I make the tiniest little sound I'll end up with a mob of small super heroes and Justin Biebers banging on my door in a greedy sugar-induced rage.

 Awww, aren't you guys cute. Now get the fuck off my porch.

Actually, I wouldn't give any kid dressed up like Justin Bieber candy anyway. Even if I had a truckload of it. You're a Belieber, kid? Get the fuck off my porch or I'm gonna pelt you with all the Smarties I'm not giving you (from my personal stash. Which I'm not sharing. MINE).

They can come back next year when they have better taste in music or I'm less hungover.

Ah yes, that's really the crux of my current Halloween-scroogeness. I'm massively hungover. I'm so hungover my hair hurts and it feels like someone took sandpaper to my eyeballs. A kick in the vagina would be preferable to this massive, epic hangover of hangovers.

Yeah. That. 

I did have a good time last night, though. Snarkier Than You and I (along with the menfolk) went to an awesome masquerade wedding. I think it was the most fun I ever had at a wedding. ML and I dressed up as Steampunk people and STY and Mr. STY were looking super dapper in fancy masks and evening wear. There was lots of dancing and eating and drinking, ohmygodsomuchdrinking!!!

An amazing picture by photographer extraordinaire, GusGus.

ML and I being romantical, as usual. (Photo by GusGus, natch)

A friend, STY and Mr. STY. 

The bride and groom. Don't the drawings on the black pumpkin look familiar??? Mr. STY's handiwork!

Even I danced, which is a testament to how much vodka I actually drank because I never dance. I'm an awful dancer. I think it's more like flailing than dancing. I do remember dancing with one friend and he kept spinning me around and I told him if he didn't stop I was going to barf all over his purple velour suit jacket.

Like I said, I'm fucking hungover. It took every last ounce of effort I had to climb into the shower and wash last night's makeup off my face. Hot. Fucking. Mess. I pretty much spent the rest of the day laying on the couch with my Edward blanket and whimpering softly to myself.

But damn, that was the greatest wedding EVER.

 This is why I don't let her play with guns. Also, she wore glitter. What a sucker. Have fun cleaning that off your face for the next three weeks, STY.

Anyway, I hope everyone has an awesome and safe Halloween!! Let us know if you went to a great costume party or what you dressed your kids up as or even that you're as uselessly hungover as I am. It'll be like a virtual costume party in the comments!!

P.S. - DON'T FORGET - Twilight Tuesdays start tomorrow!!! SQUEEEEE!!!

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Mother Nature Must Be A Twilight Fan

Seems over the past year, we've been having some really fucked up weather. I know it's normal for the southeast to have its hurricanes, for the midwest to have its tornadoes, for the northeast to have its blizzards and for hellish places like Texas to sometimes, well, feel the actual temperature of hell. But it seems to me that all these natural disasters have been hopped up on steroids lately and I don't like it one bit.

The northeast got hammered by snow this past winter -- I thought we would lose Jenny Jerkface in a snow bank at one point. Texas experienced something like 874 straight days of over 100° weather this past summer and I was pretty sure TK was going to go all fucking postal on some unsuspecting neighbors nearly every day. I don't even want to discuss that horrible string of tornadoes that stretched from Texas to Virginia last April. And just to kick us northerners in the nuts again, Mother Nature dropped 5-10" of snow on us before Halloween. Before fucking Halloween! Dude, WTF?

See those leaves still on the trees? That means it shouldn't be fucking snowing!

So this whole weather pattern got me to thinking... what the fuck has crawled up Mother Nature's vagina that has gotten her so blistering angry that she feels the need to release such a wrath on us? Is it because she hasn't gotten laid in a bazillion years? Who does MN go to get her needs met anyway? Do you think she even has a boyfriend? Father Time maybe? I bet that dude definitely needs Viagra.

JMFHF, this is what I got when I Googled "Mother Nature is Angry" -- I'm a skerred!

Or maybe the more sensical answer to why MN is being such a dirty twat lies in her taste in movies. I think she's a Twilight fan and since those assholes at Summit have made us wait an eternal 18 months between Eclipse and Breaking Dawn: BtS, she has decided to seek revenge on everyone. Way to go Summit... how does that make you feel? I suppose if I had the power (and wouldn't get arrested), I might throw the same type of tantrum (minus the unnecessary loss of life, of course.)

Hopefully once MN gets an eyeful of Edward Cullen's sweaty back breaking headboards, she'll just sit back with her freshly whittled dildo and enjoy the show. And leave us the fuck alone. I could use a nice mild winter. And Edward's sweaty back breaking my headboard. Please.

headboard gif
Now doesn't this just make everything better?

Friday, October 28, 2011

Check Your Cha-Chas: A Twitarded PSA

In our usual uber-timely style, I bring you a very important message that I found in my in-box at the beginning of this month:


Just wanted to ask if you would remind all the girls who read your blog to feel their boobs this month. It's October, breast cancer awareness month. :) I was diagnosed last year when I was 24, and 14 weeks pregnant. I am doing fine as of now but it's a horrible experience and goes to show that cancer doesn't care how old you are, if you have family history, or whether or not you breast fed your babies.

I have been following your blog (secretly of course) for about two years now and adore everything you ladies do!

Thanks ;-)


You can read more about Rachel's story and say "Hi!" at her blog, I'm a lucky one.

Men, you need to check yourselves, too.
(Rob, if you need help, we're here for you. j/s. Because we care.)

Need a little more motivation to get those hands of yours on your ta-tas??? I think I have something right up the Twitarded alley... Make sure you watch this all the way to the end - you'll thank me later - 

This app seems like a lot more fun than that mammogram I keep putting off, says the Twilight fan of a certain age...

Thursday, October 27, 2011

When Did I Become A Slave To Technology?

When I started working at my current job back in 1997, I barely had a computer to use. I think I shared a stupid PC with a few other people. And forget email. I actually had to call people. {{shivers}} I remember the day I got my very own Mac. Turns out, that day changed my life. And not long after that, I got myself a boring old cell phone. Back then, it was the best thing since sliced fucking bread. I could actually call someone from anywhere! Holy shit!


I think it was sometime last year when I realized I just might be a technology addict. And a slave to Apple. I would sell my vagina to a vampire for just about anything with the Apple name attached. Does that make me an iSlut? I currently operate on two iMacs (one at home, one at work), an iPad, an iPod and an iPhone (in fact my brand new 4s will be waiting for me tomorrow when I get home from work!) When I got the email saying the new phone had shipped, I gasped. My hubs, alarmed, asked what was wrong. I told him my new phone shipped. He shook his head and rolled his eyes, which seems to happen an awful lot lately.

Now... I like 'now' much better!

I am never without access to the interwebs -- unless, of course, Mr. Latchkey drags my lazy ass into the middle of nowhere to shoot at view the wildlife. I'm honestly not sure I could survive with no technology. I'm ridiculously excited that my new iPhone has mobile hotspot capabilities so I can use my iPad in a non wi-fi location. It's the little things that get me excited these days. I'm a sad little person...

But did you ever stop and think about what life as a Twilight fan would be like without all this new-fangled technology? We're so spoiled in this day and age... One click of a button and you're looking at some smoking hot picture of RPattz taken just seconds before.


Can you imagine a world with no Smartphones? No Twitter? No Facebook? No email? No blogs? *gasp* Would we have all found each other? Most likely not. Can you imagine no YouTube? No Biel videos? No sneak peeks and extended scenes before the movies are even released? It makes me want to throw myself on the floor, kicking and screaming like a kid with no candy.

What if the Internet never existed? I guess I would have spent my time curled in the fetal position in a forest somewhere. Can you imagine a world with no Google Image Search? Would we be reduced to buying Tiger Beat and BOP magazines along side the tweens? I shudder at the thought. Personally, I like to keep my Rob-porn confined to a secret folder on my computer which may or may not be labeled "untitled".

It would pain me to purchase this JUST for a picture of RPattz. Too much Jonas going on.

So what would you miss most if it were all gone tomorrow? Would it be the leaked stills? The paparazzi shots? The witty banter? I think I'd miss you guys most of all...

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

It's My Honeymoon and I'll Be Awkward If I Want To... (SPOILERS)

So, the other day I spied in my JJ account an email from Twired Jen. I have so many unread emails that I need to get to that I kind of cringe in shame a little every time I go in to check it but this one particular email just happened to catch my eye.

It read "FWD: Exclusive Hon" but only because my phone cut off the rest of the subject line and I got all excited because I thought Twired Jen was sending me some exclusive news on Honus Honus.

She wasn't.

Instead, she sent me something even better. I think. The JJ jury is still out on this one, actually.

What she forwarded to a bunch of us was a short clip of the Breaking Dawn "honeymoon" scene.

I have to admit that I kind of squealed a little when Edward picked Bella up and walked her over the threshold, because that's just romantic and shit and I'm pretty sure that there is no way ML would be able to do that unless I went on a serious diet and he started working out. Plus, our idea of romance is shouting into the other room "get me a drink, whore!!" So, yeah. He hates when I call him that.

 Not me and ML. Obviously.

Then I sort of creamed myself over the decor, even though it's really not my style but I thought it was perfect for the island house. Seriously, I could totally picture people having massive orgies in that living room, which is exactly what I do if I was going to be an eternal, youthful hottie with more money than I knew what to do with. Not sure about the glass walls though. That would be dangerous if people were drunk. Plus, the inevitable smudges would drive me mad.

Most of all, I just stared at Edward. It's been awhile since I've honestly thought about Edward and not RPattz. I mean, that line blurred so long ago that I just have a hard time separating the two.

 I'm sorry but Twilight Edward will always have a special place in my heart...

Edward is Hot, yo. With a capital H. As soon as I saw the bed in this little clip, I dredged up all those images of his beautiful, muscular back as he crumbled the bed into bits during the sex scene (I'm assuming they will keep that in, unless they want an army of enraged estrogen storming the doors of Summit Entertainment).

Holy. Shit. On. A. Stick.

But then something ruined it. At first I couldn't figure it out and I had to watch the clip about twenty more times before ML threatened to turn off the modem I figured out what it was.

Why the long face, Bella? C'mon, man, you just fucking got married to the hottest sparkly vampire ever and he's about to pile-drive your virginity into oblivion and you look like you had a bad slider at White Castle.

WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM??? Just... be happy, Bella. God dammit, he's going to BONE YOU. Pillows will be bitten and headboards crumbled and you've got a mother fucking sour puss on.


I want this movie to be good, really I do. But I have had less awkward conversations with strangers on an elevator than Bella did with her new husband. I'm really hoping the entire movie isn't going to be like that because I will definitely get kicked out of the theater on November 18th.

I'm scared, people. What do you think?

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Beardy Robert Pattinson Starts the Breaking Dawn Press Tour WOOOOT!!!

So apparently Robert Pattinson didn't get the message that "National No Beard Day" was last week. He surfaced in Paris for some Breaking Dawn-related stuff (let the PR games BEGIN!) and let me just say that Beardy Rob was lookin' GOOD. Okay I'm freaking exhausted and can't believe it's only Tuesday as I write this, but I recognize that "good" is really not going to cut it here... He looked...remarkably scruffy and lickable. I don't even like facial hair generally and I may or may not have whimpered when the photos started coming down the wire from France. I haven't been this hopped up since the debut of RomeRob! Plus it's early in the press game and he looks all refreshed and stuff. Saucy!! And a tad bit devious... Like he's up to something. Something potentially so good it's bad and maybe a little dirty. Me likee.

I'm sorry but that's all I've got... Nobody is going to be paying attention to what I write anyway given the hotness of these shots, so I won't feel too bad that I don't have anything particularly witty to add...

Well helllloooo stranger... We missed yoooooooouuu!

 Remember Rob's last big public outing at ComicCon? Moving on...

 Cheeky monkey... Someone must have given him a pep-talk before he hit the crowd!

 Seriously - has he ever looked better or more at ease in a crowd? He's working it!

Smokin'! Even if Dean forgot to tell you to tie your shoelaces.

Beardy Rob looks like the cat who ate the canary. Or something. Not going there.

 He looks like he has a secret. A veeeery diiirty secret. Maybe he'll tell you if you ask nice...

I still want to wax that uni-brow but it's waaay down on my RPatts to-do list. WAY. DOWN.

 Oh please sweet jeebus let me see this in my theater the night Breaking Dawn releases - gah! 

So are you enjoying the Robapalooza?! This is just the beginning, folks - belly up to the smexy RPatts buffet and get comfy - there's some good stuff coming our way to help pass the time between now and November 18th - bring it on!

Pics from ROBsessed and hishandobsessed.

P.S. Here is the latest amazaballs video from Biel - created in honor of ROBsessed's third anniversary - break out the champagne (or Heineken) and party hats!

Monday, October 24, 2011

My Heart Belongs to the Violent Sports

I'm about as prissy girly-girl as you can get. I like pretty shoes and pretty skirts. Manual labor makes my eye twitch. I can't be involved in any activity that precludes four inch heels. Sure, I have the mouth of a battle-hardened sailor, but I try to look demure when I'm cursing a blue streak. It's the way of us southern belles. There is one area where my pink veneer fades. Sports.

Hockey season just started up again. I forgot how much I love this sport. I think I say that every year. I'm not very into the NHL; it's a little too tame for me. I prefer the scrappy minor leagues with the crazy team names and the fights that break out every three minutes. I always tell Mr. TK that I hate when a hockey game breaks out in the middle of a good fight.

I lose interest if there's not blood on the ice in the first period. 

We went to the season opener for the local team earlier this month. There were about four other people in the "crowd." The mascot had dingy, matted fur and looked like he had been rolled in the parking lot. A few times. He/she/it was on the ice for all of ten seconds before it tripped and took out one of the dancers. I freaking love this game.

My first love will always be college football. It's a lot less violent, but I love the rivalries and the traditions. Our schedules revolve around Saturday football from September through December. There are quite a few teams that I like and follow religiously. If you want to know the full extent of my geekiness, I e-mailed Boise State's Coach Peterson after the 2007 Fiesta Bowl and thanked him for the best motherfucking football game I'd ever seen. I nearly shit my pants when he e-mailed back. We're practically engaged now.

Naturally, being from Texas, I am a GIANT fan of the University of Texas. (Hook 'em!)  My big stress every year is trying to find new outfits to wear to the games. I can't be seen wearing the same things I wore last year. That's just unacceptable. My favorite part of the game is the band and team entrance. It's one of those things you just have to see in person — the band, the freaking huge state flag, the smoke, the fight song, the stands shaking. It's a total rush.

This isn't the best video quality, but it's really hard to take any video during the game. Trust. This is far better than anything I've ever managed to capture. 

I could write for days about how I want to marry Co-Offensive Coordinator Major Applewhite and how I know more about some of the players than I do my own friends. (That's completely normal, btw.) But I won't bore you with all of that. Er, much more than I already have.

The Texas mascot. He leads a much more cushy life than I do. 

I will hardly walk outside long enough to get the mail, but I have sat through torrential downpours to watch a Texas game. This is the South, after all, and we worship at the altar of the goal post.

 The main building tower. Behold its greatness.

I know quite a few of you are not-so-closeted college football fans. I've seen your tweets; don't try to deny it. What are your favorite teams and traditions? (Anyone who mentions Oklahoma gets their comment deleted.) I know you northerners love your hockey and I expect you to chime in as well. How do your minor leagues compare to the pros? Put your mouth guard in and let's duke it out in the comments.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

We Named Our Baby Renesmee

I spent this weekend up in the north Maine woods. I'm talking way up there -- near the top of Moosehead Lake. And guess what? The cabin we were staying in had no fucking wi-fi. Can you believe that shit? And my piece of shit AT&T phone had no fucking service. There's nothing worse than turning on your phone and seeing the words "NO SERVICE" -- it's unnerving really. So I was basically off the grid this weekend and holy shit, it's good to be home.

See that red A? That's where I was. Middle of nowhere! 

With no wi-fi and no TV and no open restaurants in the vicinity of the cabin (and by vicinity, I mean closer than 45 minutes away), we were forced to sustain ourselves at a local sandwich shop. We figured it was better than going hungry -- or trying to survive on candy bars, Pop Tarts and Miller Lite. Although I wasn't completely against that. While waiting for our sandwiches and boneless buffalo wings, I perused the local magazine stand. And much to my delight, hiding behind a Guns and Ammo, was this....

I scooped it up and skipped around the store like a mad woman, much to the dismay of Mr. Latchkey who nearly rolled his eyeballs right out of their sockets. Poor guy... he only wishes I got that excited over him. I figured I had enough time to look at the pretty pictures so I wouldn't need to spend the $5.99 -- besides, I didn't have any cash on me and asking the hubs for six bucks to buy a Twilight magazine is like asking Ronald McDonald for a Whopper. A giant no way Jose!

The pictures were pretty -- nothing I hadn't seen before. A little too many non-Rob photos. I really don't give a rats ass about the wolf pack. And then I saw it. Just a page before the end of the magazine. A headline I prayed I would never see in print.

"We Named Our Baby Renesmee"

You what the whaaaaat?

Let's just recap here for a minute. Is the woman in this picture Bella? No. Is the man in this picture Edward? Fuck, no. Then what the fuck were they thinking?? I'm going to guess that this woman's mother's name is NOT Renee and that the man's mother's name is no fucking way Esme. I know it's really a "to each his/her own" but for me, this question springs immediately to mind: Why on EARTH would you saddle your child with that abomination of a name?

What makes this even weirder is that it was the husband's idea to name the baby... he came up with the idea when he was reading Breaking Dawn right before his baby was due. And in case you can't read the actual article, the mother was even more excited when their daughter "turned out to be the spitting image of the bronze-haired part-vamp, part-human child." I call bullshit -- since you people don't look anything like these people.

There is no way you can make a baby that would look like what Edward gnawed out of Bella's uterus. Just not going to happen. But I'm sure your daughter will thank you when she's in school and is endlessly mocked for her name. Maybe... if she's lucky... the whole Twilight craze will be over by then and she'll just spend the rest of her life correcting the pronunciation and spelling of Ruh-NEZ-may.

Friday, October 21, 2011

Friday Night Funnies (aka HOLY SHIT it's my turn my post)!!

Okay, so I'm not going to bitch too much but work is still eating my soul. Remember the scene in Twilight where James gets Bella alone in the ballet studio the size of a fucking football field and tosses her around like a rag-doll and she just sort of bellows and moans and twitches in pain?

That's pretty much me at work. Bella, not James.

Oh look, my head is bleeding and my leg is broken. Just another visually dynamic day at the office...

Therefore, I need a good goddamn laugh, just like I did this day. That was the day you a) realized I wasn't actually funny or b) realized my sense of humor is fucking dumb. Or not. I'm not sure -- I don't even know my ass from my elbow anymore, except that shit doesn't come out of my elbow. Or my ass, I forget.

I'm going to stop now.

All I know I'm glad to know that I'm not the only one who finds G.I. Joe PSA's fucking hysterical. This one is for you, you silly little bitches. You know who you are.

Last one there is a penis pump!!

Naturally, we have to have at least one Twilight-related vid and this one is courtesy of the lovely Toefunny. (Whose grammar doesn't suck. But mine might.)

A few of you mentioned that your go-to when you need to unwind and laugh a little are videos of cute critters and whatnot. Because I aim to please, I present to you... the talking cat. He's kind of an asshole. Then again, I don't even really like cats. I think they're aliens out to take over the world and it creeps me out when they stare at me like they're trying to figure out where to make the first incision when they dissect me.

And last but not least is a video I'm almost positive I've already posted here but am too much of a spazoid ditz to remember.

The Saxophone Man.

Please don't fucking kill me when you get this song stuck in your head for the next three days.


Thursday, October 20, 2011

Robert Pattinson Wanted Me to Have the New "Sexy Stars of Twilight" Magazine.

If you follow me on Twitter, you might be aware of the fact that my common sense and my wallet have been waging a bit of a war with my "OMG I WANT THIS!" Twilight desires... I came face-to-face with my nemesis at the magazine rack recently while waiting in line at the grocery store. There it was: the new "Sexy Stars of Twilight" Breaking Dawn Before the Spawn Edition. Did I really want to spend $9.99 on yet another piece of Twilighty ephemera that I don't have room for in my closet? NO! I would not succumb to the temptation... Probably...

 I am NOT buying this... Probably... Resolve weakening...

People, let's be realistic: I knew I wanted to buy this overpriced piece of bullshit. After all, I have a collection of overpriced Twilight bullshit, and if for no other reason than to have a complete collection of overpriced Twilight bullshit when I finally need to pay rent and put it all on eBay, I needed to buy this piece of OTB, too... You know, just because a complete collection sells for more than an incomplete one, right??? I am a master rationalizer...

Even with my masterful powers to persuade myself to buy Twilight-related things that I don't need, I passed Sexy Stars of Twilight BDBtS by and left it sitting there in the grocery store the first night I saw it. Sexy Starts of Twilight, you are not the boss of me! It felt good to leave it there even if I had a tiiiiny inkling that eventually I might lose this battle (as everyone on Twitter told me would happen). After I left Stop & Shop with nothing but boring ol' groceries, I tucked away the fact that the SSoT magazine contains not one but FOUR posters, and then reminded myself that I left every single one of my Twilight posters in Forks. I shipped them all out there, but didn't really have a plan for shipping them back to NJ so that I could return them to the dark recesses of my closet where they belong. The Forks UPS store must have been closed the Sunday we left... Oh wait, there is no UPS store in Forks.

Fast forward about a week. I'm back in line at the grocery store, and the SSoT magazine is calling my name. It's more of a siren call, really - haunting...  I'm giving myself a little "I can DO this!" pep talk like I am a crackhead trying to walk past the worst part of town in Crackton. But I am strong! I could dooooo it! And then IT happened... I looked down at the items that the cute young dude in front of me was purchasing and saw THIS:

Hot Pockets FTMFW!

The photo is a little blurry, but if you have ever tried to nonchalantly photograph someone else's groceries without them noticing, you'll understand. And that photo HAD to be taken. Folks, it was like Robert Pattinson himself came down from heaven or the mountain or Malibu or Barnes or wherever he spends all his time (it is taking every bit of willpower I possess to not mention a part of KStew's anatomy here) and absolutely COMMANDED that I buy this magazine. Nay, demanded it! Actually that makes it sound more like he's been hanging out in the red Room of Pain - RAWR! Anyhoo, I know divine intervention when it happens! He might as well have been standing in line next to me, willing me to shamelessly add it to my purchases. So I plucked a copy from the middle of the rack--my way of hedging my bets and hoping to buy one that hopefully hadn't been pre-pawed by one of you horny twatwaffles--and giggled all the way back to my car.

All-natural salami and RPatts. Coincidence? You be the judge.

So have you given in? Not buying it? Already have one mauled copy and one wrapped up in plastic and secure in The Precious collection??? Spill it in the comments!

P.S. Today is my birthday. It's not midnight yet, but so far the package containing RPatts has not arrived and I still don't own a sparkle-peen (I KNOW! I don't know how this is possible, either). You know what I REALLY want??? I want to have over 2000 blog followers. Sorry to be all "It's my b-day"-manipulative, but if I have to watch that number hover back and forth around the 1990-ish mark for another month, I am going to stab someone by the time Breaking Dawn comes out, and JJ is going to be really ticked that I will be in the slammer and not going with her to see the premiere (also, I will be very, very sad in jail and and orange is not my color). So if you enjoy this blog but don't follow, please show us some love and sign up so that I don't go to jail. Wouldn't you prefer following the blog to contributing to my bail fund? Yes you would. Probably. Although jail would make for some good blogging...

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

My Souvenir Can Beat Up Your Souvenir

My parents don't travel too often but whenever they do, they always bring me and Brother Jerkface back a little souvenir. Nothing too fancy, just a little taste of the culture from the place they had visited. Most kids had these kinds of souvenirs hanging around -- a Micky/Minnie Mouse hat with ears, for example.

I've never been to Disney World. Or Land. But my parents brought me back one of these a few years ago WHEN I WAS MOTHER FUCKING THIRTY.

Before I continue, I need to explain something. When we were growing up, Brother Jerkface and I took sibling fighting to a level only appreciated by evil super-villains or WWE (or WWF, whatever the fuck they are called now). We nearly flooded my parents house during a Waterworld-esque spitball fight that graduated from, well, spitballs to buckets of water, a hose and entire rolls of paper towels. In another, we managed to turn something as innocent as baking flour into a total fucking scourge of epic proportions. I think it took my mother weeks to clean up all that flour out of her upholstery. Shoes were wielded like grenades and I promise you, anything thrown at your face at maximum velocity is going to hurt like a mother fucker. Including Munchkins. I only experienced that last one secondhand but my friend walked around with a glazed welt on her forehead for awhile.

 I meant these Munchkins, not those creepy creatures from the Wizard of Oz that terrified me. Though I imagine it would hurt a lot more if you got hit in the face with one of them.

In short, we were creatively destructive.

Back to the souvenirs.

When I was eleven or so Daddy (not a)Jerkface went on a business trip somewhere in the Southwest. Upon his return, Brother and I eagerly waited for him to pull our gifts out of his suitcase. Mine was a beautiful little blue leather purse with all these beaded fringes (fuck off, it was the eighties) and a really pretty Native American design.

My brother got a bullwhip. A fucking real leather, flay-your-skin-off fucking bullwhip.

  Oh, hey, let's get our kid a bullwhip. I got him a machete and a Glock last year. This will be a new toy.

Sometimes I think my parents used to do shit like this as a kind of experiment to see just how evil their children really were. I know I would. But even in my ADD-addled eleven year old brain I knew this was not a good idea. There was about a 20 minute period between me racing out the front door to hide somewhere and my mother confiscating the bullwhip that I don't fully recall. All I know is that my brother learned very painfully that if you don't "whip" the bullwhip properly you will end up whipping yourself in the back.

It was the shortest lived "toy" that ever passed the threshold of my parent's house. They stuck to more non-violent souvenirs after that.

Or so I thought. Fast forward twenty-two years to the current day. My folks had recently returned from a whirlwind vacation in the Grand Canyon and Las Vegas. They had a blast.

ML and I went to see my parents house last weekend to look at pictures from their trip and as we were leaving, my mom hands me a bag and tells me she bought ML and I some souvenirs. I thanked her and thought it was really nice that she got something for ML.

Until I saw what it was:

Really, Mom? Really?

For those of you who were angelic children and have never seen something like this, it's a rubber band shooter. You hook the rubber band over the nose of gun and secure it with the clothespin. When you're ready to permanently blind someone, you release the clothespin.

Clearly, Mommy (not a)Jerkface is not done with her experimenting. But I guess she's already come to terms with the level of hooliganism in her children so now she's testing my boyfriend.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

I Won Edward In Forks... He Keeps Me Warm At Night

So as you've heard by now, we had some pretty amazing raffle items to give away in Forks. As much as I wanted one of those fucking awesome Red Bella-crafted pillowcases, I really secretly coveted something else. Some that would keep me warm on those cold, Maine, winter nights...

When we put out the APB on raffle items, we were happily overwhelmed with the response. Even people who weren't planning on making the trek to the Pacific Northwest were willing to donate stuff. Our friend TwiloveSue, who couldn't make the trip (much to our dismay) emailed me saying she had some things to toss into the kitty, where should she send them? I had her send them to my house. When I opened the package, I was greeted by the most wonderful Edward Cullen fleece blankie. Would anyone notice if I just, oooops, forgot to bring it to Forks?

Don't get too attached, STY. That blankie is MINE!!

My conscience got the best of me and in the luggage it went. I figured it would be nice to know I would have extra room in my suitcase on the way home -- you know, for all my purchases. But every time my hand brushed up against that fleecy goodness, I longed to just keep it for myself. I'm sort of a fleece blanket whore. My coffee table if filled with them. I think it's mainly because Mr. Latchkey likes to keep our house at a balmy 65 during the winter and our house was built in 1920 and I'm pretty sure most of the windows are original and old and drafty as all fuck. So every night, I wrap myself in fleece for my television watching.

When it came time to put my raffle tickets in the brown paper bags, I nearly dumped all 15 chances in the fleece blanket bag. But then there were those pillowcases. Those wonderfully hot pillowcases. Focus, LKW, focus! So I dropped a few in each bag and kept my stubby little fingers crossed that I just won something. And wouldn't cha know, when the blanket came up, it was me reading off the winning ticket... and wouldn't cha know, I WON THAT MOTHERFUCKING EDWARD CULLEN FLEECY GOODNESS.

What I did next, I can't be held accountable for. Don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same.

What? And hey! Why does Snarkier Than You look like she might be embarrassed to know me?

Oh. MA. GAH! Edward Cullen's mouth is on my ass! I can die now. Happy.

So a couple weeks have passed and my Edward blankie doesn't spend a lot of time packed away inside the coffee table because I need to feel his softness on me every damn night. The other night, Mr. LKW comes to sit on the couch and tell me he's going to wrap himself in Edward. I was like "hands off, bitch." And then he did it. My husband, who really knows nothing (or wants to know nothing) about Twilight took my coveted Edwardy fleece and wrapped himself in it.

 My ninja photography skillz are fucking legendary.

If only he knew... shhhh, don't tell him. I think this might definitely be grounds for divorce. Now if he says he wants to watch Twilight, I'm really going to start to worry!

Monday, October 17, 2011

Texas Katherine Goes to the Dentist

I was going through the 52,000 iPods in the house the other day and wondering why I haven't taken the time to update the music on ANY of them in at least two years. Judging from the music on them, I blindly synced them in an impatient attempt to just have something to listen to. It's pretty awesome that I have an iPhone, iPods of various sizes, and an iPad, but none of them have any music I like. I was flipping through the downloads on my phone and came across an audio book. I was a little perplexed because I don't ever buy audio books as I am a visual learner with the attention span of a drunken gnat. The book was Are You There Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea. I could not remember buying this.

Even if I didn't think Chelsea Handler was funny, I would buy this book for the title alone.

After nearly breaking my brain, I remembered purchasing it before having my wisdom teeth removed two years ago. I thought I needed some distraction from a team of people drilling into my face. I started listening to the book wondering how long I was coherent before the nitrous oxide had me stoned out of my mind. Eight minutes. I heard eight minutes of the book before I was counting pink elephants.

It's still amazing to me that the dentist let me drive myself home. I remember the hygienist asking me if I felt all right to drive myself and I replied with a convincing "Uggghhh ioakkanmed togheemlt."  I guess I looked like my normal spacey self while drooling saliva and blood down the front of my shirt and trying to pay the dental bill with my grocery store reward card. I was supposed to text Mr. TK after the surgery so he could pick me up, but I didn't remember that part after I was baked. I don't remember the drive home either, which is proof enough to me that a higher power exists whose sole purpose is to protect absolute morons like myself.

Mr. TK found me at home about an hour later, covered in yogurt and jello from attempting to feed myself. I'm not sure how he didn't take me right there over the sofa arm. The fact that he was able to resist that level of sexiness proves he has restraint like Edward.

Nevertheless, I started listening to the book again the other day and was laughing my ass off. I know she has several books out now and I might have changed my mind on this whole audio book thing. Her stories definitely hold my attention and I'll be a little morose when the book ends. It is possible she has plagiarized parts of my life and I have my legal counsel (aka my cat) looking into that.

He's like Matlock. But with a litter box. And fewer hairballs.

It's your turn to share your thoughts on audio books. Or the dentist. Or laughing gas. Or cats. Jeebus, this post was all over the place.