Dear Sprint Store and Best Buy Geek Squad... I Hate You.

Details as to why and the degree of my hatred is coming soon, but here's a preview. 

Actual conversation with the Geek Squad follows.  The member in question fits the description perfectly.  A tall, lanky awkward looking  man with large hands and feet he seems to trip over constantly.  When I approach the counter he's talking with another geek squad member about how he is about to be laid off because they are cutting hours at his store.  Immediately, I am relieved because his company loyalty is probably unwavering in his current set of circumstances.

Carpentry Issues; Revisited. DEFCON FIVE.

So, those of you who read my past blog about the epic night of house alarm bedlam, recall that my problem solving approach is a progression of five steps.
My usual solution to problems is the following five-step progression:
1. If it's broken or not working, throw it away.
2. If you can't throw it away, put it under a pile of something else so you can pretend it's not there for a while.
3. If you can't put it under a pile of something else, use duct tape to fix it or patch it back together.
4. If you can't use duct tape then throw it at something or kick it swiftly.
5. If it's too big or too expensive to throw or kick, call dad.
The door that is growing ever closer to being officially bound for the wood chipper I’m still eyeing on Craig’s List, pushed me all the way to DEFCON Five.  Call Dad. 
My dad is hands down the coolest man I know.  For a bajillion reasons most of which involve him putting up with me like.  When I told him about this blog and the proliferation of eff bombs and inappropriate humor his first question was, “So….anyone can read this?” Indeed.  In terms of DEFCON response times, he’s legendary for saving the day and I am thinking of having a cape made for him for that reason. 

Things That Couldn’t Possibly Be More True

My life coaches never cease to amaze me with their insights into life.  Perspective.  It’s yours.  Take it.

Caption: Things that are absolutely NOT okay: tampon popsicles.  - Maurya Scanlon

Caption: Because apparently, sometimes all you need is $.36 worth of gas. – Kim Payne

Caption: Well Said.  - Travis Harris

27% Chance

I was sent a quiz by a friend entitled: What are your chances of surviving an intense lovemaking session with Big Foot? 

Like any normal person, I immediately put down the work I was doing and began the quiz.  It’s just that important to know these kinds of things.  I hike a great deal and knowing the survival percentage for such an experience seemed quite important for me to know.  I’m providing this information to you as a public service announcement.  In advance, You’re welcome.  

The first of ten questions asked:
1. Suppose a large forest-dwelling creature (ie: bigfoot) sat on your face, how long do you think you could hold your breath?
A. A long time, maybe 3 minutes or more. I often get sat on by cows, large people, farm equipment, etc.
B. My lungs are pretty strong, maybe 1-2 minutes?
C. Not long, I'm a smoker or I have no experience being suffocated by large, hairy beasts

Real Text Messages I've Gotten Just Today

I have no idea how this is my life sometimes.  These messages are real.  I didn't write them, I just get to be the lucky recipient.  


"True fact!  Proportional to their weight, men are stronger than horses.  I...am stronger than really strong horses"


"True fact!  Astronauts in space can not cry due to no gravity.  They CAN NOT CRY!  Just call me space man."


"We'll just circle jerk our way through it."

Your Friday Reward

You behaved yourselves all week.  (For the most part.)

So to my 7 loyal readers, here is your reward and a message directly to YOU from ME.   Well, technically it's via someecards and Kim Payne who sent it to me first so it's like a third hand message... but it's Friday.  It's all I can manage.

Life Lessons I Learned From the Bar (I Can't Remember Them All...)

The bar has historically served, well alcohol, but also as a place for people to come together, try to coerce each other into getting naked, and then generally feeling really stupid about it in the morning.  Who you are when you arrive is not the same person you are when you leave and who you arrive with isn't normally who you leave with either... 

A Google Maps search
of "bars".  Thank you Google
Maps.  Thank you.

The bar, be it a pub, sports bar, dive, club, music hall, or any other establishment that pours the sauce (I'm looking at you Ruby Tuesday) has become a right of passage and the lessons we've learned are worth passing along.


Personally, I learned that the juke box isn't a direct message from God to me.  The songs that come were not written with me in mind nor was my life the inspiration for the lyrics.  They are also not instructional in nature.  This means "Total Eclipse of the Heart" is neither a message about a former lover missing me nor is it a directive for me to literally "Turn around."  


I've learned that dancing while drinking is a calculated risk.  Dancing with heels on is dangerous so removing your shoes is an option, but you risk forgetting them and stepping in something nasty.

Real Text Messages I’ve Gotten This Week

 
"I’m drinking and watching Camelot.  If I don’t have sex soon, I’m going to be a lesbian.”
“Talk me out of walking to the store to buy celery and hummus.”
“I’m stalking you.  You should take a picture and post it on FB.”
“Ummmm….I’m not going to lie….I was soooo drunk when I was there.  I don’t remember.”
“An old client brought a donut in this morning and I ate it.  I hate myself.  Tell me I’m pretty.”
“Living in a barn is annoying sometimes.”
“Ugggg the cop wanted to chit chat about my concealed weapons permit and what I carry.”
“He got chalk all over my ass and belayed for me all night.”
“I’m drinking.  I might be gay in an hour.”
“I think someone took my car.  I’m okay with that.  It needed gas and a wash.”
“Do you have my purse?  I really need my morning after pill and I’m not going to my pharmacy twice in two days for that shit.” 
“I just got a text that said, “Hey you.”  from “Might Blow Later” why did I give him that name in my phone and what do I say back?”

My Lack of Carpentry Skills and how it Nearly Got Me Arrested

Okay "arrested" is a harsh word and inaccurate, but the title grabbed you.  Admit it, you wanted to read about me getting cuffed, thrown in the back seat of a cop car, and dragged off to prison where my blog posts would be filled with Oz-like stories of avoiding prison rapes, making other inmates my bitches, and crafting shivs from smuggled toothbrushes and toilet paper.  I digress...

This does go a long way to add validity to my belief that my life really is a shit show.  I'm learning more and more each day how much my lack of basic life skills i.e.the ability to use a hammer and/or any other kind of "tool" is detrimental to my overall well-being.  Don't get me wrong, I am wicked "resourceful", like MacGyver level resourceful, but that does NOT directly translate into "handy."  The chasm between those two worlds is becoming painfully clear to me.

Carrie's Corner for Horrifyingly Bad Dating Advice

I recently got this email:

Dear Carrie, 
I am recently divorced as well and single.  I'm really unhappy and thought you might have some advice for me?  

First of all, holy crap.  I am probably the worst person on the planet to be offering advice on this front.  I deeply caution you to not take a word of this to heart. I don't know why YOU are single.  I am because the men I am attracted to tend to be morons, emotionally stunted mama's boys, or otherwise broken in some capacity.  It's a gift that I find them so readily and with such a diverse subset of reasons to suck.

Guys, don't be offended if we've ever dated and you're reading this.  This post isn't about you.  (This post is totally about you.)

Follow Up to Tuesday's Ball-Licking Good Times in the Mud (It Involves Donuts)

After my glorious pre-dawn experiences yesterday with the construction crew from next door, I wasn't surprised when I was awakened this morning by the magical sound of hammers from next door around 6:35AM.  But I was prepared this time.  Leaping out of bed, I was about to put "Operation: Donut Doomsday" into effect.  I had a new strategy.

I edged out the door (this time with both a bra on AND my hair brushed) holding in my hands a sturdy paper plate with half a dozen donuts arranged in a fancy semi-circle.  There were two caked sprinkle donuts, a long john, two powdered, and a glazed one.  I had also made some Dunkin' Donuts coffee which I poured into two insulated mugs and had settled in each of my shorty robe pockets.  Footwear was more carefully selected today.  I was wearing running shoes and I carefully watched my step and muddy puddles as I approached the workers.

Best Commercial EVER

I am pretty sure this is the best commercial I've ever seen.  Ever.  I only hope that my vagina is this powerful.  I'm inspired.  Thank you Summer's Eve.  Thank you.

Why Hallmark Should Never Let Me Write Their Greeting Cards

So, my dad sends me this email that says, "You are creative.  Win the 5 grand?"  With an attachment to a Hallmark "Everyday special Occasion contest". 


Basically, the contest has you "fill in the blank" for the statement below:
____________ is my everyday special occasion.  


Never one to have too many touching moments front of mind I went with something far more comparable to what happens at my house and what I imagine is far more prevalent in the every day special occasion playbook of most of the moms and families I know. I know, you can't even imagine what I would come up with here...

Niki's Pics (I just peed my pants)

Niki is my friend from Georgia.  By friend I mean I've never actually met her but we talk on Twitter, FB, and email frequently.  She's the cutest blonde woman on the planet and she takes/shares/finds pictures that are pee-in-your-pants-worthy.  She also takes a lot of pictures of her cat.  (None of which are posted here)

Niki says: Hmmm oops?!

Says Niki: Tensions are rising with H1N1

Niki says: hmmm. maybe they should look into a new marketing team!

When alcoholic beverages start resembling the women who drink them

Why Tuesday (Well, THIS One) Already Sucks Balls

This morning arrived like a bitch slap to the face.  A house is being built next door and unlike the one lazy ass person I know in construction (I am talking about a certain ex boyfriend here) the ones next door apparently like to get an early start with their constructioning... I know that's not a word but I have no idea what they were doing and what the tools are called - I just know it was loud and barely 6 AM when it started.

Given the new found balls I've discovered, I marched outside in my tanktop (sans bra - and it's not hot, I don't really have boobs anymore) and disheveled ponytail - all my hair skewed far left, sleep still in my eyes.  I think I scared the shit out of the first guy (who I believe was using a table saw) with my arrival, which I can only imagine he believed was the onset of a zombie apocalypse.

Travis Harris Tips Well

I met Travis Harris when I needed a white button down shirt for a photo shoot. He had 37 of them.

These are his musings…

Says Travis:
I would like to think that am not picky, but I will admit to appreciating the finer things in life, perhaps to an excess at times. I recall fondly a moment in Las Vegas at Nobhill... I am drinking their signature drink, the Cable Car. A wonderfully refreshing cocktail. And as I drink I notice the fine crystal that I am drinking out of. The rim of the martini glass is so precise.

Why 36 Proof Margaritas are an Awesome Idea on a Sunday Night

When Kim (a member of the Dream Team) texted me and asked if I wanted a fruity drink last night (and she was buying them) I graciously accepted her offer and when she arrived with margaritas called “Stinky Gringo” and bottles of “Kinky” liqueur, I knew that it was going to be a good night.  Only Kim Payne could go to Hy-Vee to get Jose Cuervo and end up with Kinky liqueur and Stinky Gringos.  I adore that.

The day had been a brutal one.  The U.S. Women lost a heart-breaker to Japan, it was probably about 1000 degrees outside and I had not only mowed but ran two miles in the sweltering heat.  In response, I spent about 45 minutes laying directly on my air conditioning vent like a dog in my sports bra and shorts pouring water over my head and having my four year old walk on my back to get the knots out. 

If You’re Married and Trying to Get in My Pants…

The answer is “no.” 
That’s all.

Katya-isms: the Quintessential Nonsense for Everyday Badassery

*Warning: This post does contain some language and references to me nearly peeing my pants with laughter.  The language part is sort of to be expected, but the peeing is gross.* 

My friend Katy McCabe is a wise Marine and on my Dream Team of advisors.  She is forever inspiring me with her one-liners.  They will be housed in a book one day… I’d like to have it start here.  (That way I get some of the proceeds). 

But for real, she’s awesome.  (The next few sentences are shameless plugs for her.)  Katy has a blog - http://katymccabe.blogspot.com/  She is a sponsored athlete and just launched her own website – www.katymccabe.com.  McCabe is a Glamazon and all-around amazing chick, she’s running some races with me this year and she is forever making me laugh so hard I do very frequently feel as though I may actually pee my pants.  Ask her about peeing your pants.  There’s a good story there.  That’s real and I just used the word "pee" four times in one paragraph.

I Don't Give a Shit

I'm 30, recently turned, hence my anger. I'm divorced and a single mom with a ridiculously messy house.  At this point, moving to a new house and starting all over (even with underwear and socks) would be easier.  I have historically dated emotionally retarded men and am fairly certain that is something I haven't quite learned my lesson on so more will come on that front I'm sure.  But regardless, I have just become quite unapologetic for my swearing, my lack of perfect parenting skills (my kids have it pretty good), and my inability to keep all my shit going perfectly all the time.  I forget to call people back, I am never on time, and lately I have not averaged more than about 5 hours of sleep at night.  I don't give a shit.