Monthly Archives: October 2011

Bar Brawls, Mel Gibson, and Mars

A couple weeks back Lincoln and I almost got in a bar fight.  And by bar fight I mean some drunk girl got all hammered pissed at Lincoln and her three guy friends threatened to take him out back and pummel the ever-living shit out of him. 

It was a hoot. 

But let me start from the beginning.

We arrived at a local watering hole which used to be a fun bar but now it’s dead everytime you go in there and they have 19-year-old girls bartending (which is a plus for the guys, I guess).  I had just gotten done with work and I wanted to stop for a drink.  Upon arrival and the ordering of our drinks we discovered that Signs was on.  So we immediately stopped talking to one another and became heavily engrossed in the film.  I have to admit that we watched the movie for a good half hour before I leaned over and whispered to Lincoln: “Do you realize how pathetic we are?  It’s Friday night and we’re at a bar watching Signs.” 
He laughed.  And then shushed me. 

For some reason I had gotten it into my head that I hated this movie.  But as I watched it I couldn’t remember why I hated it. 

First, it’s pre-crazy Mel Gibson.  You watch him before he want bat shit anti-semitic and you’re like, “Damn.  He was good.” 

Second, his wife is dead and you discover that she was in a horrific car accident.  But before she dies they show her alive and the only reason she’s alive is because THE CAR THAT SLICED HER IN HALF IS HOLDING HER TOGETHER.  That’s incredible.

Third, Abigail Breslin saves the day with all those damn glasses of water.  

Fourth, the part where Mel tosses Joaquin a bat and says “Swing away.”

But I digress.  The point of this nonsense about Signs is that Lincoln and I were enjoying a movie at a deserted bar on a Friday night when some lunatic drunk girl started dancing like an asshole by herself on the empty dance floor.  I am, by no means, an even slightly good dancer but this girl was hilarious.  She danced around like a fool and made references to her vagina with her hands.  Then she started to mime that she had a penis.  And by mime, I mean she pretended to stroke a huge, imaginary cock.  Swear to god.  I slapped Lincoln in an effort to get him to turn around and check out the shit show on the dance floor.  He did and then said, “Nice dick” to the footloose fiend.

Apparently this offended her. 

The next thing I knew she was in Lincoln’s face and then back to her posse of fools and tons of yelling and lots of threats ensued.  A compilation of the threats are below:

  • **pounding on the bar** “Do you wanna go outside?!?!?!?”
  • I’ll fucking kick your ass!!!
  • I’ll fucking kill you!
  • Are you fucking kidding me with this shit!??!?!

At this point, Lincoln and I are thoroughly confused.  Here we are just trying to have a relaxing time watching Signs and Lincoln happens to compliment a girl about her huge fake dick and now we’ve got some rage fight on our hands. 

It was incredible. 

I had no idea what to do.  So Lincoln calmly and rationaly approached the merry band of pyschos and apologized for whatever they were angry about.  Frankly, I don’t know what they were so angry about and I’m pretty sure that they didn’t either.  At this point, the girl that started everything had gone from tiny dancer, to menacing rage machine, to blubbering freak show.  The dudes accepted Lincoln’s apology and upon making his way back to me he announced that he was going to buy them all shots.   But I’m not in the business of rewarding bad behavior and I’m positive that these people did not need anymore alcohol.  So I had to veto Lincoln’s declaration.


There’s a point to this.  Three actually:

1. Drunk idiot girls are incredibly agitating and I’m in no means prepared to fight.  Ever (I’m not saying I won’t do it, I just won’t be properly prepared).

2. Watching Signs only reminded me of this movie and how much I want to watch it:



This is how happy Lincoln was because he didn’t get his ass kicked on our movie night:


Textual Feeling: A Reprisal of Proper Gender Roles

I’m still sick. 

I feel no better and no worse (which I’ll chalk up to a small victory).  I think the worst thing about being sick with this cold thing is the state of perpetual confusion I’m living in.  Anything I do takes three times as long to do and I just plain don’t know what the fuck is going on. 

To top things off – I decided it was appropriate to drink last night (which at the time seemed like a great idea and my face hurt a lot less what with the cocktail of meds and drinks).  But this morning I can’t determine whether this terrible state I’m in is due to a hangover or this fucking cold.

So I made this poll:

But I digress.  I found this conversation between B and myself and I laughed.  Which then turned into a sneezing fit which led to hacking my brains out.  Enjoy.

B: What are you guys doing for the games today?

Me: Sitting at home.  Come over.  I’m going to make Angry Bird cupcakes.

B: While Lincoln and I watch football?

Me: Maybe.

B: Women in the kitchen cooking while the men watch football.  It’s the American way.

Me: Go fuck yourself.

B: Blow me.

Me: I don’t want anything to do with your ornery dick.

B: I’m going to punch you in the twat.

Me: Likely story.

B: We shall see.

In totally unrelated news, check out this picture of a cat in a trash can:

Sir Charlie

I know this a screen shot of a video.  But the state I was in last night when I took the video was a hazy one.  One where you’re trying to take a picture and you realize you’re on video and you’re likefuck!” 

And I’m far to lazy to crop anything.

So deal.

Any Given Sunday

On any given day I will take an obscene amount of pictures of my dogs that nobody wants to see.  Sometimes they’re ones I think are cute.  Sometimes they’re ones that are just plain ridiculous.  And other times, Lincoln gets involved…

Don't mind us.

I'm not even going to go there with how excited Mac is. It's like doggy porn.

I can't even...


I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.  They’re fucking weird.

I swear that Lincoln is a photographer’s dream.  You have to do literally nothing but point the camera at him and he does the most insane shit. 

Like father like son?

There is only one normal, sane creature in our home.

My sweet, sweet Murphy Lee:

PS.  I know this post has no point other than to highlight strange and weird photos – but deal with it.

A Punch to the Face

It goes without saying that everyone gets sick.  People blame it on allergies or the changing of the seasons or whatever else there is to blame it on. 

I blame getting sick on the fact that my body hates me and thinks it’s funny when I’m miserable.  It started with a simple cough on Saturday morning. 

Nothing to write home about. 

But it slowly escalated into an all out attack on my nasal passages and throat/face area.

I’ve attempted to fight back. 
The initial counter-assault began with this:


But in an attempt to feel even 50% of normal, I ended up pounding half a bottle, which in turn gave me gut rot.

So I turned to this:

Mixing meds.

For about thirty minutes I felt numb (which I liked) and then my face started to hurt and I think dehydration began to set in.  So I popped some pain killers and chugged some water.  Then I found some vitamins in my drawer and I figured they really couldn’t make things any worse – so I took those.  And on top of everything, I’m exhausted, so I’ve sucked down about three cups of coffee like it’s the last available thing to consume on this planet.

And this was all done by 9AM this morning. 
So my desk looked like this:


Needless to say, it’s been a struggle.  I just have to make it through a thirteen hour work day today, like I had to yesterday. 

It’s not impossible, just miserable. 

I’m on track to need another two bottles of DayQuil and GoodSense Stomach Relief (knock-off Pepto).  In a perfect world, I could go home and self-medicate with some vodka and invite someone over to punch me in the face (and who are we kidding – there’s plenty of people that would volunteer to do that). 

But this world is a cruel temptress.

At least I have George:

Parliament Funkadelic

And this new hat Lincoln got me:

Go Pack Go.

I’m hoping to beat this bitch of a cold into submission over the next few days. 

But victory is questionable.

Inbred Cat


 My friend G sent me this picture in an email today and I just about died.


Whoever created this is a genius. 
And if there are more out there, I would like to see each and every one of them. 

Vintage, Retro, or Just Plain Old?

Perusing the internets today led me
to three things that made me smile:

Most practical dresses ever.

STFU, that's really Buttercup?!?!

Please comment on the three most disturbing things about this photo. Go.

EW did a handful of throw back photo shoots for some other shows/movies that I don’t care about – but these were fantastic. 

I’m going to start compiling a list of my own requests for the next time EW does something delicious like this.

As I Lay Dying – Different From Faulkner

As the title states, then add “an impromtu photo shoot occurred.”

Lincoln decided to go golfing today.  He got dressed. 

And then this happened:


Then I tried to be artsy and hippy-ish.  So I shot some with Hipstamatic:


And then he left. 

And my insides hurt.  So I’m done.

Textual Feeling: Oral Fixation

I was playing on my iPhone last night and stumbled upon 69-cent downloads on the iTunes.  Not good.  Not only did I feel like I was getting a great deal on these tunes but I absolutely love buying things on my iPhone.  It’s like the products you’re selecting for purchase hop/jump into your cart (or whatever that’s called on the iPhone). 

I made a  playlist that I’ve been listening to on a loop this morning at work.  It’s good shit.  It consists of the following:

1. Icky Thump by The White Stripes
2. What About Love by Heart
3. Hold the Line by Toto
4. Celebrity by Twista

Dance party at my desk.

Anyway, I was perusing the texts between B and me and found the following:

Me: Every time I burp I taste vodka.  And bad choices.

B: What the hell were you putting in your mouth after the bar last night?

Me: Nothing out of the ordinary.

B: Oh, yeah, cuz THAT really narrows it down.

Me: What are you trying to say?

B: I’m saying that still could be anything.

Me: It’s not like I’m a toddler.

B: Who are you trying to fool?

Me: Everyone.

B: Well, you can’t fool me.  I’m better than that.

Like Twista would say, “Don’t ever let a brotha pimp you.”

Steve Jobs Ruined My Life

So I recently got an iPhone and it was absolutely the best thing that’s ever happened to me (and I don’t care what the judgy fucks say about how I should have waited for the new one to come out.  Step.  Off.).
I named her Lola and filled her with all sorts of apps:
  • Tiny Tower (an absolute must for all iPhone owners)
  • Pinterest (I get nothing done)
  • The obligatory social media apps (Facebook, Twitter, etc.)
  • RotoWire (Thanks B – so I can keep up with all the fucking injuries my fantasy team is plagued with)
  • Stickies

I downloaded this Stickies thing last night and it’s basically Post-It Notes for your phone.  So I showed Lincoln what reminder I needed:

I'm very busy.

He called me an idiot.

But in my defense, he hates when I dick tap him.  But I really enjoy it.  He gets uncomfortable and squirmy and his reactions are even better when I dick tap in public.

But sometimes I forget how much I like to do it – so I added it to my Stickies and set an alarm as a reminder.  It’ll be different everyday so he’ll never see it coming.

But my Stickies board looked barren and boring so I explored and discovered you can use colored Stickies and different shaped Stickies.   So I updated my Stickies board:

Now I look more important.

In other news, it is with great sadness that I reveal that Lincoln WON the bet. 
I know – it’s terrible.  I really had my heart set on seeing him do the “All the Single Ladies” dance.
But all is not lost.  Aran, the loser, will be posting his video tomorrow.  There was talk of CGI’ing himself into the actual video. It’s going to be hilarious.
Stay tuned for the video…

Light Sabers are Little Slices of Heaven

I think the biggest mistake people make when it comes to Monday is expecting that they may not be as terrible as their nature suggests. 

But they are.  Mondays are awful. 

The trick to dealing with them is to go into any given Monday with extremely low expectations.  And by low, I mean rock-fucking-bottom.  By doing so, you’re ensuring at least a sliver of hope on these godforsaken days.

Would you believe me if I informed you that today has officially become one of the best days of my life? 

Well, you should.  Because it is.

Today started out like any other.  I woke up late.  I tripped over my idiot dogs.  I couldn’t find any clean clothes.  I had to go work (where I have to deal with people; which is terrible and I hate it).  But none of that meant that it was technically a bad day – because it’s a typical Monday.  So although it depressed me, it didn’t super depress me (which is a tiny win, in and of itself). 

My day progressed.  I forgot my sunglasses so I had to drive into the blinding sun.  I forgot my glasses so I had a headache all morning from staring at the computer screen.  I went to Wal-Mart on my lunch break to buy some more sports bras but then got to the register and it didn’t have a scanny bar code thing on it and instead of being a typical three pack, someone jacked ONE so I was left with two.  I didn’t have time to wait for them to page and get a new set so I left with nothing but a sinking, unsuccessful feeling.

But it was still a typical Monday and I was still overcome by that feeling of indifference.  Until I checked my email.  And then confirmed with my Twitter.  And I had to do a double take.

The Bloggess was following me on Twitter. 

Shut. The. Fuck. Up.  I simply adore her and all her weirdness.

So my day got infinitely better. 

But what really tipped the scales was this:

Are you fucking kidding me?

I love me a ridiculous picture of an animal – I mean, who doesn’t? 

But a light saber??? 

Simply.  Heavenly. 

Know what’s even better?  Discovering that there’s a whole fucking website dedicated to this awesomeness.

So, to sum up my Monday – it’s been fucking fantastic.  The work day is almost over which means I can see the vodka at the end of the tunnel and that always makes me happy. 

This also makes me happy:

I could have hit the photo fucking jackpot if I would have placed a cup in the foreground. I could have entitled it: "Two Lincolns, One Cup."

So Monday was good.  It was really good.

It wasn’t unlike any other Monday until that tinge of validation washed over me and changed everything. 

I suppose it could all be a mistake.  A mis-click. 

That The Bloggess didn’t mean to follow me on Twitter.  I certainly hope it isn’t a mistake.  But if it is, I can deal with it. 

Because at least I’ll have those light saber-wielding animals.

You're welcome.