i’ve been meaning to get around to this post but it just hasn’t happened.  mainly because i’m so fucking lazy.

so i’ve moved this here blog.
there’s still some kinks and whatnot – so bear with me.

but from here on out you can find me at www.mehspaceblog.com 

so let’s go on a new journey together.

oh, and remember when i put them all together and did that crazy thing where i tried to basically live a not-so-toxic life?

well i fell off the wagon.  because now my life revolves around stuff like this:

drippy, ecto cooloer looking motherfucker

so i should probably do something about it.
and i should probably stop polishing off jars of pickles in my friend’s homes.
and maybe i should stop laying on the couch so much.
or eating 6 bomb pops in one sitting.
or thinking that i should use that terrible sugary lemonade from the local gas station as vodka mixer.
OR day-dreaming about carbs and starch all day.

i guess what i’m saying is that i need to stop being such a damn pile of garbage.

so here goes nothing.
again.

PS. i thought this was funny.  but instead of water – maybe it’s vodka (which is the very thing that isn’t helping my fat ass).

go ahead – touch it.

parched cock.

and yes – the cock is an advocate of safe sex.
do you even know how many ladies he was with that night?

the cock makes everyone happy.

but unfortunately – the activities of the weekend will slowly begin to deflate any cock.

and i haven’t told shitler yet – but i would really like to get one for the living room.
you know – for a conversation.

like a great coffee table book.
only better.

so i didn’t eat anything.
and in conclusion – i want all of these:

grilled steak, avocado, and spicy crema sandwiches

via serious eats

mexican corn on the cob

via campbells kitchen

at home chick-fil-a sandwich

via serious eats

crazy confetti compost cookies

via how sweet eats

raspberry chipotle-glazed chicken wings

via eat, live, run

i can only imagine how much i would hurl if i ate all of this.

but the other day, after he called for the third time, i got annoyed.

me: answers phone in a professional manner.

brian: hi.  can i talk to the owner, operator, head person in charge?

me: hey brian.

brian: is the owner, operator, head person in charge available?

me: no.

brian: do you know when he will be?

me: no.  wanna leave a message?

brian: no.  i can’t do that.  i need to talk to him.

me: do you, now?

brian: i do.

me: he’s not interested.

brian: how do you know that?

me: because we don’t give you guys money anymore.

brian: but he’s helped us out in the past.

me: well, that was the past.

brian: can i talk to the owner, operator, head person in charge?

me: no.  you can’t.  we don’t give you money anymore.  because you call incessantly.  it’s borderline harassment.

brian: harassment, hey?  so now you know more about the law than we do?

me: are you a cop?

brian: no.

me: are you a lawyer?

brian: no.

me: then i don’t understand how your question is relevant to our conversation.

brian: **hangs up on me**

i haven’t heard from brian since.

i miss him.

soooooo it’s friday and it’s time for that link up.

1. it’s shark week.  which for me – means i can’t wait for fucking shark week to be over so i don’t have to hear people talk about it like they’ve always watched it when in reality we alllllll know you only started watching it after you saw step brothers.

2. i drank a bottle of champagne the other night.  this is the cap.

i don’t follow.  how do they i’m going to enjoy it?  

dangerously?  

like smash the bottle and try to drink straight from it – jagged edges and all?  or are they referring to drinking and driving?  because i don’t do that.  i prefer drinking in the safety of my own home and not having to leave.  

champagne – you need to be more specific.

3.  at the risk of sounding like an obsessive freak i’m going to talk about invisible monsters again.  and it won’t be the last time either.  but i finished it.  and i bawled like a fucking baby.  because it is, by far, one of the most incredible books i have ever read.

4. this picture is pretty self-explanatory.  because if it doesn’t make your week you’re probably a fucking terrorist.

5. it’s this wise man’s 5th birthday.  hats off to you murphy lee.  you’re a gentleman and a scholar.

lastly, with the weekend upon us i’ve been thinking about the phrase “hot to trot.”  i don’t exactly know what it means but i assume that a lot of people will be drunkenly doing so this weekend.

so get out there with your hot to trot-ed-ness.

please enjoy with me.

exit interview questions.  specifically numbers 3, 4, 7, 15, 16, 18, 19, & 24

tips if the apocalypse is this year.  specifically numbers 2, 6, 8, 12 & 15

things we put in our mouths. all of them.  but number 3 especially because they give me stomach pains.  but i still eat them.  because i’m an asshole.

doing whatever the hell you want. this entire thing.  because i’m laughing so uncontrollably i’m practically choking.

18 things.  specifically numbers 1, 3, 10, & 15.

inappropriate ways to end conversations. everything.

lessons before you settle down.  this whole fucking thing.

but seriously, amazon.

a little specificity would be nice.  

holy shit amazon.
fucking finally.

so remember this?

well, i signed up for one.  and i ran almost every single day.  and then my gym closed for a week and i totally used that as an excuse to be an even lazier piece of shit than i normally am and didn’t run the entire week leading up to the race and instead just ate everything i looked at and laid on the couch.

so then it was the night before the race and shitler was heading out of town and he wished me good luck and i gave him a look.  and it must be my typical “i’m pretty positive i’m not going to follow through on what i said i’m going to do” look.  

because i was almost positive i was going to bail on it. why?

i didn’t feel ready.
i was convinced i was going to come in dead last.
i was beyond self-conscious.
i had never done one before.
i didn’t think i would make it through.
i hadn’t run on anything besides a treadmill for the last eight weeks.
i didn’t want to run it with anyone knew i knew because i would rather fail miserably in front of strangers.

and shitler was not happy.
because i was really living up to my 3%’er status.

but i woke up the next morning.
and decided – fuck it.

so i ran it.

and i’ll be honest.
the only enjoyment i took from this was when it was fucking over.

but i did it.
so i think i should get 2% for that.  because this was kind of major.
at least for me it was.

and just so we’re clear – i feel like i got hit by a mack truck.  shin splints, back ache, sore feet.

but eating an entire pizza the day after certainly helped.
and i might consider doing another one if it means i get an entire pizza to myself afterwards.

but then, the moment you start to feel a tad better you eat more?
and then immediately regret it?

i’d do that with all of these.

cheddar and bacon biscuits

via serious eats

slow cooker mole-style pulled pork

via campbell’s kitchen

seafood nachos with grilled corn and avocado cream

via how sweet it is

bistro lamb burger

via serious eats

chicken tamales with adobo sauce

via betty crocker

i want it all.
no matter how terrible i would feel afterwards.