tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82263409783243127992024-02-07T15:58:15.811-08:00non-girlfriendit's more fun this wayNon-Girlfriendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03653686883255223536noreply@blogger.comBlogger6125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8226340978324312799.post-26222763555950278192011-11-22T04:11:00.001-08:002011-11-22T04:35:30.545-08:00Maybe the dingo ate your baby<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I've been seriously slacking about blogging but as usual, I have excuses:</span></span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">School</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Procrastinating about school</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Trying to read the the last eight chapters of the textbook, complete 10 chapter assignments, take 3 tests and write a paper. In one week.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Wine</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">A blind, diabetic dog I wrestle twice a day during Insulin Time (not as fun as Family Time, and with more physical contact)</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Work</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thinking about work</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Playing Burger Time</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Wine</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Online shopping while drinking wine</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Fretting over the lack of funds in my bank account when I finally sober up</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The new Twilight movie</span></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Okay, so I lied about the last one. I don't follow that shit, don't even know what it is about, except that vampires are really good-looking. And apparently don't smile that often.</span></span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbTKk7dqvQ1aiu3Xz_5eNyi48Mtnx4Bw_0MPVSM0AIF9DLXnk3VTaeOs0KwS7hP8ycWpqDLA_Ij4YeNKjPWK428TG2mNQEFaTPYtBrsGAhq2YsXmuLGBBHbcoHv1zDJ_82QTosE-2kL7rv/s1600/oohscary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbTKk7dqvQ1aiu3Xz_5eNyi48Mtnx4Bw_0MPVSM0AIF9DLXnk3VTaeOs0KwS7hP8ycWpqDLA_Ij4YeNKjPWK428TG2mNQEFaTPYtBrsGAhq2YsXmuLGBBHbcoHv1zDJ_82QTosE-2kL7rv/s320/oohscary.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't get it. At all.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I could post photos of my recent online shopping activity but that would only be interesting to me. And quite possibly, it would make me shop some more.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Instead, I will rant. Here are a few of the things that have pissed the fuck outta me lately:</span></span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Leaves falling. I don't do yard work, so I'll have to pay someone to rake them for me = less online shopping </span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> Being woke up at four a.m. Every. Single. Day. Thanks Buzzy.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Driving in Dallas</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Not winning the lottery</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Insulin Time (because who wants to be associated with a sharp needle?) </span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The Food Baby</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Bad Hair Days so awful that I have to plan my outfit around which hat I will be wearing</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Everything else</span></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Happy Thanksgiving! Be thankful you don't have to spend it with me.</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></span>Non-Girlfriendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03653686883255223536noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8226340978324312799.post-64063475955853126002011-09-02T16:11:00.000-07:002011-09-02T16:12:33.472-07:00I Hate Beer<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Celebratory work lunch today, in which I invited the one person who works with me and The Boyfriend (because he put up with so much shit during this project we are celebrating being over with, like me being crankier than usual and working every morning during our last vacation). No one wanted to drink because I wasn't. That is something that has never, ever stopped <b>me</b> before. What.Ever.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Anyway, at lunch, The Boyfriend </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> was telling Co-Worker about</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> working on earning his 200-beer-plate from Flying Saucer. I think he is up to about 60 different beers, and probably earned about 1/2 those points this week alone. He started looking at all the different beers on the list, and throwing out some of the really good names. I fucking HATE beer. But I'd totally drink a beer called "Cheeky Monkey" simply because I love monkeys. Monkeys throw their shit at people. Most days, I really wish I could do the same.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The Boyfriend got about halfway down the list, said, "Here's a good one...<i>The Old Spotted Hen,</i>" and then looked at me. I'm not amused, since he calls me "Chicken." (Please, please don't ask. I am so tired of explaining it to people and the story is boring as hell anyway.)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I am, I suppose, OLD. If you can call a 43 year old who still gets carded "old." AND I suppose the "spotted" part was some reference to age spots, none of which I happen to have. If I thought he was serious, I would have jabbed him with a fork but I know he loves me and that is his way of showing it, so I let it pass. After I pointed out the fact that he is older than I am.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Co-Worker and I are like night and day. So of course, she loves beer. This stupid beer discussion goes on for like 10 minutes and ADD person that I am, I zone out. Until I hear her tell us that her husband likes to eat when he drinks.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Me: "I like to...DRINK when I drink."</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Which is what The Boyfriend said at exactly the same time I did. The last part, I mean. He totally gets me.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">By the way, I fucking failed miserably with that whole "I'm quitting the booze and smokes before vacation" shit I posted about. I'm now quitting the day we leave for vacation. Should be really pleasant for everyone involved. That's what The Boyfriend gets for calling me "old." And "spotted."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Happy Labor Day/Eating and Drinking and NOT Working Weekend all!</span></span>Non-Girlfriendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03653686883255223536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8226340978324312799.post-36947398310176241062011-09-01T15:13:00.001-07:002011-09-01T15:34:41.876-07:00Next Time, I'll Shove A Bomb Pop Up Your Ass<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I don't commute, really, just a five minute drive (10 with school zones) to and from work. So I'm typically home around 4:30 or 5:00 or so, depending upon how work is going. Of course, the four fur brats have to immediately go outside, and of course, they take their time peeing and pooping, while I am subjected to something that I hate in a way I cannot begin to describe.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The fucking ice cream truck.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It's bad enough that the old bat that drives it will stop in the middle of the street and just sit there. It's bad enough that all the rug rats come running up to the truck with their attitudes, loud obnoxious voices, and generally rude behavior. It's bad enough that some of them stand in my yard. (Side note here: I wish I could train a squirrel to sit in my tree and chunk nuts at them. Or a monkey. Ooh, a monkey would be better because then it would probably toss shit. Literally. That would be fun to watch.) But what really pisses me off is the song that is playing at top volume.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It's an annoying song, and little whistle-whistle-whistles are peppered throughout. That is exactly what I need to hear after a long day at work.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The song never changes, either. Same thing, over and over. I have at least five minutes of this torture daily. Sometimes twice on the weekends. But I could probably deal with all of that - the loud kids, the whistling, the slow-ass old woman driving at 1 mph or </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">stopping</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">, the cheerful song played so loudly that I can hear it inside my house.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">What <i>really</i> galls me is that at the end of the song, before it <b>STARTS ALL OVER AGAIN</b>, a woman's voice says, "Hel-loooo!"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Now, at random moments during the day, I hear it in my head. I've even started saying "</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Hel-loooo!</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">" to the fur brats when I get home. I'm either gonna lose my mind or have to take action. I've been thinking that throwing out some of those road spikes the police use to stop high speed chases might teach her a lesson. But if I did, she'd be stopped in front of my house and the music would <b>never</b> stop. And I'd go to jail, most likely. I really don't look good in gray - or stripes - for that matter.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>Non-Girlfriendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03653686883255223536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8226340978324312799.post-27901405626890478642011-09-01T08:18:00.000-07:002011-09-01T08:18:08.825-07:00Moderation Is Overrated<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It's only 3 days until vacation and I am quitting smoking two days before we leave. That means TOMORROW. I'm so fucking excited, I just might pee myself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I have 3 packs left, too. That means I have to smoke 60 cigarettes in the next 14 or 15 hours. No problem, I don't inhale anyway.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga0FetAyYq4IoisGefeUeeeYbRO7hcPpct0STFCiFvkhn2Q9nm-FS2oZiZ5FD0Mp-mQlDPYbjU5OBoQxDtr2zhe7Mf0HmAlrGRYV7ZDM6A84uTFKf4JQ7dwFbmRxqvNOVGHPZqVEBFdNjP/s1600/inhale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga0FetAyYq4IoisGefeUeeeYbRO7hcPpct0STFCiFvkhn2Q9nm-FS2oZiZ5FD0Mp-mQlDPYbjU5OBoQxDtr2zhe7Mf0HmAlrGRYV7ZDM6A84uTFKf4JQ7dwFbmRxqvNOVGHPZqVEBFdNjP/s200/inhale.jpg" width="161" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Oh, and I'm going to lay off the wine for a while, too. (Hahahaha. No, I'm actually SERIOUS.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I have 4 bottles left in the fridge. That means I have to drink all 4 bottles in the next 14 or 15 hours.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Cold Turkey. Booze and smokes. The Friday before a long weekend. The Friday before I go on vacation. I think it's an excellent plan.</span>Non-Girlfriendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03653686883255223536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8226340978324312799.post-90472632695574723182011-08-25T16:28:00.000-07:002011-08-25T16:36:22.341-07:00I'm Fat<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Those of you who know me know that I lost 30 pounds last spring. Well, it seems I gained about 12 of those pounds back. And not in my boobs, or <b>ass</b> (where I <u><i>really</i></u> need it). Yeah, the Food Baby has come home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I was blaming it on my herniated disc and the fact that I can't go exercise without being incapacitated for a couple of days <span style="font-size: small;">(like I really use my gym membership, heh)</span>. However, I believe the "serving" of wine (read: serving = bottle) I've been having on a regular basis has welcomed the FB back into my life.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Eating: overrated</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I figure if I cut out breakfast, and lunch, I will solve this problem.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">You can't go home again, it seems. <span style="font-size: x-small;">Unless you are my Food Baby.</span> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span>Non-Girlfriendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03653686883255223536noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8226340978324312799.post-91091719789184940532011-08-25T16:08:00.000-07:002011-08-25T16:52:09.887-07:00I Burned My Cookies, So I'm Eating Yours<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I'm too lazy to come up with anything good, but I need to get back into the habit of blogging, so today I am just going to give you the most current list of Things That Piss The Fuck Out Of Me Daily. <i>Enjoy.</i></span><br />
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<ul><li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">People who don't know how to drive - this consists of about 99.999% of the driving population...in other words, everyone else but me</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><strike>Children who run out into the street in front of my car</strike> Parents who do not watch their children so that they run out into the street in front of my car</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Mental Giants who think it's acceptable to stop and text in the middle of the entrance to a grocery store</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> The Facebook Name Nazis who wouldn't accept "Chicken" as a nickname...hello, you suck</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Waking up at four in the morning</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Infomercials (there is nothing else on at four in the morning)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Really bizarre infomercials with 20-something girls talking about how "size matters" - I don't want to see that shit in the middle of the night</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Sagging - Seriously, you all aren't over this <i><b>yet</b></i>??</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Self-proclaimed "foodies" who really don't know what they are talking about</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">One-Up-Manship (only because I'm better than you are, so you can't win at this game)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Idiots who read blogs like thebloggess.com and take the humor seriously</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The fact that I deleted the original non-girlfriend and didn't bother to archive</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My Food Baby</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">That I was drunk blogging three weeks ago and lost the login info to my original URL...this one pretty much blows</span></li>
</ul><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I leave you with </span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">this:</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCqJljQEEJgh0rUX5KVKWnd9UjplBOWE6aWD7Dk2HApKEoYTqALBFkz7MmLbpGDfHS34nuyUqSWRszCyDxJBA3LpxCkkJTYV8MkAQNc3RkyMkJ6r9sk_yzZCsqjyFKGRUPrlIkCT9BfjWB/s1600/Ick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCqJljQEEJgh0rUX5KVKWnd9UjplBOWE6aWD7Dk2HApKEoYTqALBFkz7MmLbpGDfHS34nuyUqSWRszCyDxJBA3LpxCkkJTYV8MkAQNc3RkyMkJ6r9sk_yzZCsqjyFKGRUPrlIkCT9BfjWB/s320/Ick.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It's disgusting. And it's what I put on top of my tiny white dog's food just so the spoiled little brat will eat his dry dog food. The dry dog food that costs about $10 for a small bag. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">[No apologies for the Stinky Salmon Picture. If I have to look at that shit on a daily basis, so do you.]</span></span>Non-Girlfriendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03653686883255223536noreply@blogger.com0