Category Archives: Uncategorized

tiger, tiger woods ya’ll

this has nothing to do with tiger woods.

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 

so let’s go on a new journey together.

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Oh Brian

i had this conversation the other day with my all-time favorite solicitor, brian.  and by all-time favorite i mean he calls every year around the same time and asks for the owner of the company.  and by same time every year i mean he calls every single fucking day for like a month, multiple times a day and i love fucking with him.

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.

Food Porn Monday

have you ever just wanted to lay around and eat till you wanted to puke?
and then have you ever actually done that and then been so miserable you wish you would die?

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.

Food Porn Monday

so at some point i’m probably going to post the same food porn picture.  and i’m slowly coming to terms with that.  

but in the meantime – check this shit out.
and by shit i mean sweet, deliciousness that i want to hork down.

on the double!

bacon wrapped cream cheese jalapeno bites

via eat, live, run

baked ravioli

via cafe poppy

whiskey burgers

via pass the sushi

shrimp scampi with parmesan risotto

via gimme some oven

stuffed buffalo chicken breasts

via skinnytaste

the word ‘breast’ always makes me laugh.

because i’m mature.

Food Porn Monday

i’d get down with all of these.

quadruple chili cheeseburgers

via serious eats

guacamole hummus

via shutterbean

malted chocolate milkshake

via serious eats

butternut squash gnocchi with browned butter and fried sage

via eat, live, run

white pizza dip

via how sweet it is

Food Porn Monday

so i’ve been thinking a lot about meat lately.

and this is the result.

fennel-rubbed pork shoulder with salsa verde

via serious eats

i could cry.

bbq pulled pork cupcake

via serious eats

spicy bEERbacoa tacos

via betty crocker

prosciutto-pineapple and pesto paninis

via gimme some oven

grilled hot dogs with sauerkraut

via serious eats

if you can’t already tell – i have a serious obsession with serious eats.  like i’m on it every single day.  and there’s drool all over my keyboard.

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Thank God I’m Not Such a Bad Person That Dexter Would Kill Me. But Then I Worry That Kevin Spacey From Seven Might Murder/Punish Me Because of My Sloth-Like Tendencies.

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.

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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 super fox showed up and we dined and then hit the bar with shitler.  which was a shitshow.  please enjoy:

the super fox loves to anally rape with a pool stick

but the super fox hates titanic.

a tender moment.

the super fox must have caught a whiff of shiter’s fart.

shitler suggests they laugh about it.

the super fox has other ideas.

*a quick aside –  the series of the super fox and shitler reminds me of the neverending battle between good and evil.  which means in this case that the super fox represents everthing good and kind and shitler is the epitome of everything oppressive and tyrannical.  end of aside.*

shitler is a fucking creep.

the cunt. and the super 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.


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.


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


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.


It’s Fucked Up That I’ll Probably Never Be A Lumberjack

i’m obsessed with flannel. 

and anything with a checkered pattern. 

and anything lumber-jack related.

don’t judge me.

here are some examples.


i also have some in red, blue, and pink.  in retrospect i could have gotten a pile of them together and taken a picture.  eh.  hindsight.

here’s some photographic evidence of me stealing the flannel that lincoln got from his parents for xmas.

and most importantly, seven brides for seven brothers.

i’ve watched this movie a gazillion times and i can’t for the life of me remember whether the brothers are lumberjacks or not.  but at one point in the movie i know they’re chopping wood.  and that’s good enough for me.  i guess it’s mainly about a bunch of brothers that can’t let any of their other brothers have a tiny bit of individuality.
but what i do know is that i would like to be a lumberjack for day.  mainly for the flannel.
ok only for the flannel. 

and only if i could get a blue ox named babe like paul bunyan.

and only if the ox is a spray painted corgi.

but that won’t happen.  i just have Chuck McCat.  and he’s terrible with an ax.

he is great at napping.

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.