ever forget about the nonsensical pictures on your phone?
story.of. my life.
considering i have other 3,000 of them. it’s a serious problem.
i re-discovered these gems today.
in which i think i’m a photographer.
this fucking dog and her sitting.
shitler looks bashful and b is far too excited about that yarn.
because i don’t know why jesus and the miz wouldn’t hang out.
i’ve become strangely obsessed with the apex predator.
totally. serious.
shitler and i had to head to illinois this weekend.
for a baby funeral.
i know.
awful.
and you know you’re not in kansas (or wisconsin, for that matter) anymore when you are bombarded by these types of things everywhere you go:
ack.
but when all is said and done and you’ve reconciled with the fact that you’re out of your element for a weekend and there is a lot of sadness hanging in the air; you begin to enjoy the little things, because that’s really all that you can do.
but then it dawns on you that the little things you enjoy aren’t normal.
like these things:
shitler and sami.
helmet time.
everyone wants a turn with the helmet.
hammock love.
camouflage footie pajama love.
so although this last weekend was filled with sadness – it was also filled with a lot of love.
man love.
and then relief. when i saw this:
i’d like to give you the sequence of my weekend events. in both pictures and words (which is no different than any other time that i’ve done this).
friday:
a friend force-fed me jell-o shots that he was carrying around in a plastic bag. then i made myself this:
bacon. brat.
then the same friend tried to get me to do this:
i refused. thank god.
but then shitler and i went to the bar.
where he attempted to teach me how to play pool.
but as you can see i was more concerned with trying to take some badass pictures.
but then, we saved the bar.
and by saved the bar i mean i happened to look at my phone and see that it was 2:15AM.
and that last call hadn’t happened yet.
so we told the bartender.
SEE – i can be somewhat unselfish.
saturday:
naturally i felt like shit.
so i remedied that by ordering this for breakfast:
i had a few bites but decided it was best to drink my weight in screwdrivers.
and then b bought these from the liquor store:
and c’mon – how do you say “no” to tiny servings of wine in pint glasses? the answer? you don’t.
then i was drunk and i asked shitler to set up this loom thing so i could make a hat.
so shitler did – but then he wouldn’t give it back.
so i decided to take a short nap. because at this point – i was drunk and it wasn’t even dinner time yet. but my nap lasted for 5 hours. so when i woke up i just went back to sleep for the rest of the night.
sunday:
i went to a baptism. and felt like a bag of dicks.
because the weekend was over and i had nothing to show for it.
not even a hat.
because shitler only let me do like four rows out of the entire hat before he demanded it back.
murphy loves his new hat.
i really need to get my shit together.
bear with me. this is mostly for my own sanity.
i co-hosted a jewelry party with G last night.
people bought a lot (and for that, i thank you) and as a result i will be getting a shitload of free jewelry.
so it prompted me to come home and perhaps organize the shit i already had.
turns out that was a mistake. because what i discovered was horrific.
in a gigantic case.
in some sort of container that i even forgot i had.
hanging on the towel rack in the bathroom.
on the counter.
in some random basket.
rings.
and apparently i have an aviary section.
because keeping earrings in a shot glass seems totally normal.
this post is pointless. and ridiculous. and makes me look like a jewelry hoarder.
which apparently i am.
got my hands on this infant again the other night:
i offered to let shitler hold her but his comment was “no, i’ve held babies before” and then “i’ll hold her when she’s two.” i guess he has a point. all babies are the same.
except the ugly ones.
and ugly babies do exist. don’t even try to deny that ugly babies don’t. they do. and you’re a liar if you say otherwise. but sommer isn’t one of those. there’s a special place for her. one that’s filled with sparkles, unicorns, and mommy’s breasts.
YOU’RE WELCOME betsy. because your boobs look fantastic.
and check out her fat little baby thighs. i died.
i bet they taste delicious.
also, i’m convinced that when babies yawn it’s really their cute way of covering up the fact that they’re stealing your soul.
SEE?
in two unrelated topics:
first, shitler and i went to go get wings last night.
and our neighbor kept throwing used chicken bone carcasses on the floor:
we were not at texas roadhouse, nor is that a peanut.
secondly – in true mac-fashion we came home to the destroyer of all things pillow and also an entire plate of banana bread bars:
he’s such a dick.
lastly, shitler woke me up last night to tell me that he had gotten up to pee and while he was downstairs he ate a cupcake. at 3AM.
i’m indifferent.
i can only imagine what his dumbass is dreaming about.
shitler was out of town this weekend.
and i did nothing.
and then when he got home. we did more nothing. typical.
wait. i lied.
we did accomplish something (and i use that term loosely). because if you can count watching nine straight hours of dexter and polishing off a bottle of wine as accomplishing something then i guess i wasn’t a complete piece of shit. AND, i wasn’t even drunk after i consumed the bottle. which worried me because i thought perhaps i got a faulty bottle. but i just decided to chalk this one up for the good guys. and by good guys i mean me. and by chalking one up i mean that i drank the whole bottle, didn’t get drunk and didn’t feel like a bag of dicks this morning.
i also managed to eat an abnormal amount of sauerkraut and polish off the apple struesel cheesecake dessert i made last week.
also, mac is a huge mos def fan. imagine how pleasantly surprised he was to find him pop up on dexter.
but then the religious act got old and mac was all “hey dexter, less forgiving, more killing.”
and in the spirit of dexter and knives i found this to be kind of interesting.
if someone can tell me why there’s a section in the office supplies catalog at the workplace that features knives – i’d greatly appreciate it.
i might place an order today.
after over-indulging in vokda all weekend i vowed that things would be different.
like a herald – i declared:
i will go to the gym on all the days!
i will not drink on all the school nights!
but alas – that lasted one day.
because i went home and made the mistake of looking in the door of the fridge and spotted a half a bottle of champagne. it was all down-hill from there.
but i will say this – given the right mood, and the right alcohol – i can become extremely motivated. which was the case the other night. when i whipped up dinner and dessert but ate too much of the dessert that i only had three bites of the actual dinner.
my stomach hurts just thinking about it. and so does my head.
i found a recipe called chicken in tarragon cream sauce (fyi, shitler is useless because when i called home to have him check to see if i had tarragon he thought i was fucking with him because he’d never heard of it before). but the recipe. is. delicious. well, the three bites i had anyway.
so in all seriousness. you should make this. because if i can make it and not fuck up then that means a monkey could probably fucking do it too. which speaks volumes of the monkey.
but moving on to more important things – i also made these:
but seriously. i’ll never understand how this:
ends up looking (and then in turn, tasting) like this:
a few notes.
here is the recipe for the chicken. i’m too lazy to type it all up.
here is the recipe for the banana bars. if you look at the recipe and then realize that mine have white frosting and the original ones have nutella frosting and you’re wondering why; it’s because i don’t even know where the fuck to look for nutella. and frankly, i would feel real douche-y buying nutella. i also have an aversion to nutella. mainly because i took french in high school and my teacher, madam moran, was a raging bitch who loved nutella. and loved to pronounce it in that douche-y way you’re supposed to when you’re taking french and who was always trying to get me to join the french club and do skits at competitions but the bottom line is that i barely knew how to conjugate my verbs. so that’s the backwards explanation about why i didn’t make nutella frosting and i just used the cream cheese stuff out of the carton.
sidenote, in case anyone was ever wanting to do some sort of fucked up science experiment in which you leave a salad in the backseat of your hot car for two weeks – i would advise against it. but in the event that you do decide to conduct such an experiment and you’re looking for a hypothesis – might i suggest, “if i leave a salad in my hot car for two weeks then it will smell like a dead body.”
so you’re welcome.
plus it seems only fitting that a post that began with delicious food would end with food that was probably breeding maggots.
i’m going to apologize now.
for the convoluted bullshit that will follow.
my weekend was filled with poor choices, revelations, and vodka.
oh, and cupcakes and pork.
it never fails that i make the bold statement that i will go an entire weekend without drinking. but then that gets totally fucked because someone simply asks me if i’d like to go grab a drink. which turns into six drinks and three shots. and then golden tee. and then home. to drink more. and then watch mortal kombat. i know.
at the time, it makes perfect sense in my head.
but if that happens on friday night (which it did this weekend) then i’m fucked for the entire remainder of the saturday. because it involves me going to work at foy’s and laying there feeling sorry for myself while trying to trap the cat that smells like a diaper so i can snuggle him. and then i go home. and shitler says something along the lines of, “we should really clean out the fridge.” and i don’t know about anyone else, but when shitler says “we” he really means “me.” which is total crap.
it usually goes something like this:
“we should really get caught up on laundry.”
“we should really vacuum up all the dog hair.”
“we should really clean the kitchen.”
“we should really go grocery shopping.”
“we should really go clean up the pillow that mac destroyed in a fit of rage.”
and then i respond with this:
“yea, i’ll do it tomorrow.”
except i rarely do it. and in shitler’s defense, the fridge really did need to get cleaned out. mainly because the stench that was living in there was so bad that neither one of us ever wanted to go into the fridge to get anything (which is why i moved my vodka to the cupboard) and in the event that one of us did open the fridge the other would frantically yell “CLOSE THE FUCKING FRIDGE! GOD! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?”
but i digress (plus that’s just an example of what usually happens every weekend).
i responded with my normal answer. which did not sit well with shitler. and he snapped at me and claimed, “you only do what you say you’re going to do 3% of the time” and i was like, “no, that’s not true.” but then i thought about it. and it is true. so in an effort to improve my stats i did clean out the fridge.
not bad for a 3%'er.
the fridge is sad. and we look poor. which we are. but there’s tabouli in one of those containers. so it’s like i’m attempting to be multi-cultural on a budget. but then shitler comes over and he’s like “did you do the doors of the fridge?” and i looked at him and said, “yea, i’ll do it tomorrow.” but i never – did so now i’m back down in the 3%.
but in my defense – i was hungover and i just wanted to nap. which never happened.
the truth of the matter is that i had no intention of drinking that night after work. until b and the fox showed up and we dined and then hit the bar with shitler. which was a shitshow. please enjoy:
the fox loves to anally rape with a pool stick
but the fox hates titanic.
a tender moment.
the fox must have caught a whiff of shiter's fart.
shitler suggests they laugh about it.
the fox has other ideas.
*a quick aside – the series of the fox and shitler reminds me of the neverending battle between good and evil. which means in this case that the fox represents everthing good and kind and shitler is the epitome of everything oppressive and tyrannical. end of aside.*
*a shitler is a fucking creep.
the cunt. and the fox.
so things look enjoyable, right? it was. and then it got a whole lot more enjoyable. at least for me and b. please see below:
shitler: i think i need to shit.
me: uh, you can do that here. they do have a bathroom.
shitler: but i forgot my phone at home. what am i supposed to do – stare at the wall?
me and b: *silence*
time elapses and shitler emerges from the bathroom looking fucking pissed.
me: what’s wrong?
shitler: you would not believe what just fucking happened to me.
me: what?
shitler: so i was taking a shit. and two guys were standing outside the stalls and one of them says “dude, watch this.” AND THEN HE KICKED IN THE FUCKING DOOR.
me and b: HYSTERICAL GODDAMN LAUGHTER.
moral of the story: shitler wasn’t happy. not with the door getting kicked on him when he was taking a shit, nor with my mine and b’s laughter at his expense. but c’mon – that’s fucking hilarious.
but my night ended much like friday. going to bed way too late, getting up way too late, drinking too much coffee and then feeling like my heart is going to beat out of my fucking chest because coffee is coursing violently through my veins. and with that much coffee in me – i get wildly obsessed with things. like making three batches of cupcakes and pork.
i know. it didn’t make sense at the time and in hindsight – it still makes no sense. and looking back on this post it has absolutely no point. so i guess if you go away with anything you should maybe go away with this shredded pork recipe.
ingredients:
pork shoulder (however fucking much you want)
a jar of pepperoncini
a can of beer (for us poor folk, i used nati light)
a shitload of cloves of garlic
directions:
throw it all in a crockpot till it’s done. shred it and throw it on a fucking kaiser roll.
i need to wrap this up. because it has been a complete and utter waste of your time. so i leave you with the cupcake recipe if you would like and this:
today at work i got the urge to sneeze while sitting at my old manager’s desk. i manged to have my hand make it to my nose in time but unfortunately the snot flew straight threw my fingers onto the floormat:
you're welcome.
mainly battery.
and robbing banks.
those would be my best guesses.
the face of a hardened criminal.
it’s when things like last night happen that i don’t know whether to get violently upset or laugh hysterically.
both of us fell asleep at a reasonable hour.
but i was rudely awakened when i took a punch to my fucking nose.
i turned; prepping myself for battle as i looked over at shitler to find that he was violently tossing and turning and screaming,“THE VAN!!! GET IN THE FUCKING VAN!!!”
so i simply rolled over and went back to sleep.
