Category Archives: fucking bullshit

I Wasn’t Going to Do It. But Then I Ended Up Doing It. Begrudgingly, Of Course.


i’d like a breakdown from shitler of the different ways my 3%’er status can go up.  like does it go up a half percent if i actually do a load of laundry when i say will?  or maybe a whole percent if stop saying that i’ll clean my car like i’ve been saying for the last month?  because maybe i should actually get like a big bump in percentage for following through on major things.

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 dolook.  

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.

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How To Lose Friends and Alienate People – Like the Movie. Only I’m Not Sure If It’s Like the Movie Because I’ve Never Seen It.


perusing my litany of photos on my phone brought me to the following conclusions.

perhaps i’d lose you as a friend and alienate you as a person because i want to decorate everything in this.

perhaps i’d lose you as a friend and alienate you as a person (shitler) because you realize that my bee trap that consists of leftover mike’s hard lemonade in a glass worked pretty well.

perhaps i’d lose you as a friend and alienate you as a person because i horde this guy all to myself.

perhaps you would lose me as a friend and alienate me as a person if you drove around in a car with this sticker on it.  
because you’re an idiot.  
and you should do your research.

perhaps you would lose me as a friend and alienate me as a person if you were like amazon and didn’t know geography.
and shipped books to me in this round-a-bout fucking way.

perhaps you might lose me as a friend and alienate me as a person IF YOU KEEP DOING THIS TO MY DESK.
but i don’t know who you are.
and i guess it’s kind of hilarious.

 

perhaps.

The Super Fox and Shitler Show


so i wrote these early this morning.
at like 5AM.
because apparently drinking last night caused me to be up and at ’em at a disgustingly early time.

so it’s a second installment (here’s the first).
of my tuesday night. 
when the super fox asked shitler if she could squirt a lemon in his eye.

and he said yes.

and then an hour later he snorted salt.

yup, he’s all mine.

I Can’t Stop YOLO’ing


in all seriousness – i’m just not equipped to do anything other than lay on my couch all weekend.

i’m not even exaggerating.   if i leave my house i end up doing something terrible to my liver.  if people come to my house i end  up doing something terrible to my liver.  it’s best for all involved if i hole up in the living room and watch television shows that shitler judges me for watching and not communicate with anyone.

and this weekend was no different.  it involved copious amounts of alcohol, reading the second and third fifty shades of grey books (again) in less than 48 hours, and letting people write “YOLO” on me.  

i’m really not good at learning lessons.

here’s a photo recap.  enjoy or destroy.

and i know that people are annoyed with that damn “YOLO” expression, but it’s really the best possible thing to respond to anything with.  seriously.

you really shouldn’t drink that second bottle of wine.  it’s tuesday.  “YOLO.”

is that pizza on your diet?  “YOLO.”

you have to go to work today.  “YOLO.”

you skipped the gym again?  “YOLO.”

you’re honestly putting bacon on that?  “YOLO.”

have you done anything today besides lay on the couch and watch game of thrones?  “YOLO.”

you honestly bought a gun mug?  “YOLO.”

are you going to put pants on today?  “YOLO.”

do you ever do anything?  “YOLO.

i’m aware that all those things sound like something shitler would say to me.
or has said to me.  

i will neither confirm nor deny.

YOLO.

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Textual Feeling: Heat Stroke


hello world.

i’d like to announce that i’ve decided to compulsively bake this weekend.  so that means no one better bother me.  
or i will fucking shank you with a whisk.  
a wire one.  
after i have severed some of the little whisky things so they’re pointy and sharp.

and i’m going to listen to zeppelin and elp on a constant loop throughout this bake-off with myself and it’s going to be tremendous.

and in all seriousness – i was going another direction with this post and then i had this conversation with b.  and it instantly became my favorite thing in the entire world.

b: you’d be amazed how quickly this heat takes effect on the testicles.

me:  i’ll do you one better.  imagine a sweaty, smelly vagina after an hour of intense cardio and then getting into a sweltering hot car that has no air conditioning and driving home.

b: your vagina doesn’t cling to your thigh and begin acting like a creepy wall crawler.

me: you don’t know that.

b: that’s true.  i’m just taking a shot in the dark.

me: thank you.  i appreciate you not making assumptions about my vagina.

b: come on, we all know it’s smelly and warn out.  kind of like a drained, inflatable pool.

me: i will neither confirm nor deny.

now go forth and discuss the intense heat and the damage it causes to your genitals.

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Whiskey, Water, & Whimsy


so the last time i was on the chain up in minocqua, wi i was so hungover that i spent the majority of the terrible boat ride wallowing in my own shame and hangover while every once and awhile leaning over the side of the boat to vomit.  all because i thought it appropriate to pressure myself and others into taking shot after shot after shot of various alcohols the night before.  worst.idea.ever.  i’d like to say that i’ve learned my lesson since and haven’t done anything similar – but that would a lie.

like any other weekend up north it’s comprised mainly of drinking, sleeping, more drinking, reading, drinking, eating, and then desperately trying to recover.  and then when the weekend is over you feel as though you need another weekend in order to rest from the shit show you just subjected yourself to.

please see below.

wendy and i decided it would be appropriate to buy these obnoxious clip-in feathers.
worst $5 i’ve ever spent.

and then shitler insisted on trying it on.

and then ryder channeled his inner jimmy fallon and decided to write thank you notes.

though these are not my legs we did spend quite a bit of time doing this and i managed to devour two books.  while slightly intoxicated.  and i retained most of it.
go ahead, fucking test me.

tell me HOW drinks can’t not go down nice and smooth with this straw?

and then all of the sudden everyone was drunk.  again.  and there was a grease soundtrack singalong.

and then a photo shoot where we took photos and one of us didn’t like the way one of us looked so we kept taking pictures and i drunkenly declared “the more the better!!”  and then we started doing tequila shots.  or it could have been before.  it’s a fucking blur.  oh, and apparently when i say “the more the better!!” i mean 60 fucking photos of me and wendy.  how embarrassing.

i can only imagine what this dog thought of the entire situation.

i felt strangely average come sunday.  so boating wasn’t the hellish experience it was last time.

although someone could have contracted tetanus.

if there’s one thing i’m proud of – it’s the fact that i ingested an obscene amount of food on sunday.  like two diet cokes, a screwdriver, a chicken finger basket that included cole slaw, french fries, and a deep fried breadstick, nacho cheese and chips, string cheese, a bag of bbq chips, red bull, a bag of beef jerky, a hamburger and a bunch of sides, and like 16 bottles of water.  

success.

and this damn song has been on repeat on my iPhone all damn weekend.  

so between the feather clips, photo shoots and this song i have officially reverted back to being a thirteen year old girl.

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Because I’m Determined To Be A 4%’er


i’m going to train for a 5K.

i know that sounds like an odd thing to say.  like why wouldn’t you say, “i’m going to run a 5K so i have to train for it.”  but i’m not going to over-commit myself and then perhaps not actually run a 5K.  so i’m going to stick with the training part so not actually doing the 5K isn’t such a crushing blow.

but here’s to hoping that i follow through with this.  because it would be a real fuck-you to shitler.  except i fear that i’ll keep this up for like two weeks but then i’ll quit and then shitler might read this during the third week and he’ll be like “see, 3%.”

here are my shoes:

come to think of it – i’m not sure if they’re actually good for running.  but i like the bright colors.  so here’s hoping my shins survive the fact that i buy things based on color schemes.

and also, my first two training days have consisted of 25 minutes alternating between walking and running and for both of those runs i’ve listened to nothing but the following on a constant loop:

i’m just a soul survivor.  leave me alone.

if you have 5K training suggestions – by all means, give them to me.

but in the mean time i have two things to say:

1. i’ve reach the first part in gillian flynn’s newest book that makes you go “what.thefuck?”

2. i watched an especially fucking awesome episode of game of thrones last night.  the one where the blonde chick eats a horse heart and she does it all crazy, cannibal style and there’s blood running down her chin and chest and you think she’s going to upchuck it all but she doesn’t therefore proving she’s insanely amazing.

i think that’s what’s missing with a lot of other shows on television right now.  not enough horse heart chow down sessions.

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Avoid The Warm Spot In The Water


i will have to admit that this weekend was pretty GD magical.

no work + a boat + drinks + friends = general merriment.  it’s the perfect equation.

let me break it down.

don’t think it was all sunshine and rainbows.

i did manage to open up the summer/lake season with the obligatory i-drank-too-much-on-the-boat-and-i-can’t-hold-it-till-we-get-back-so-i-will-drop-my-ass-in-the-water-and-pee moment.

there might be pictures of that.

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Textual Feeling: See The Type of Bullshit I Have To Deal With


it’s been awhile since i’ve spotlighted the worthless textual conversations i have with b.  
so without further ado:

**while imbibing at the bar**

me: i made a new best friend in the bathroom.

b: whose your new bestie?  is she cute and single?

me: her name is emily.  and i don’t know.

b: so how did you two meet?

me: we peed in tandem.  and then i pointed out that her ID and money fell onto the floor and she declared her love for me.

b: that’s cute.  you could make a lifetime movie out of that story.

me: i’d watch it.

b: i’d put it on.  when i wanted to take a nap.

me: wow, i’d like to think my lifetime movie wouldn’t be sure a bore.

b: as a series, no.  but that one might be a snoozer.  mainly because i’m not in that one.

me: fine, i’ll make sure you miss the one with the lesbian action in it.

b: fuck that.  i will set my dvr for it.  that would be the one i wait all season for.

me: i will hack in and clear it.  then remove every other airing of that episode.

b: dream on.  you aren’t that ambitious.

me: or smart.

recently i made the mistake of leaving a conversation about serial killers to go to the bathroom and when i came back the conversation had shifted to adoption.  

i’ll never make that mistake again.

the following conversation occurred during said terrible conversation:

me: i’m going to blow my fucking brains out.  this conversation is slowly killing me.

b: please don’t do that tonight.  at least let me video tape it for research purposes.

me: what’s there to research?

b: brains may look cool splattered on the wall.  it could be saleable artwork.

me: oh, good call.  what would you call that piece of art?  “the cunt.”

b: “cunt for brains.”

b: it’s really a working title.

me: i like it.

and in case you’re offended and/or don’t like filthy language here’s a picture of my cute-ish, idiot dog fighting a sleep attack.

i hope we’re even.

Man Love


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: