Archive for the ‘real talk’ Category

Where in the world is TLW?

Oh hai guys!

1-Did she cash out her 401(k) and go on an Eat, Pray, Love adventure to find herself and eventually ‘the one’?  Is she currently getting really good at meditation and yoga and gluttony and narcissism?

2-Did she get a new job that doesn’t allow her to blog and express herself freely but it’s ok because it’s a job that actually puts her skills to use instead of the mind-numbing repetitive nature of her job at Steal Your Soul, Inc

3-Did she get bit by a rabid raccoon and has been undergoing a series of very painful treatments to cure her “foaming mouth” disease?

4-Did she meet the man of her dreams and has been so busy “nesting” and planning her upcoming nuptials she hasn’t had the time nor desire to write self-deprecating blog posts about drinking too much and making out with people?

5-Has she run out of new material mainly because too many people she knows “in real life” read this, thus making it next to impossible to write about what’s “real” and “funny” and “zany” anymore?

Hint: The answer is 5! I’m right here y’all!

Circle Back Around

Editor’s note: This post is brought to you by marijuana.

It’s like that thing when you’re g-chatting with one of your friends who’s trying to cheer you up because you are sad and he sends you the most bangin’ dating website ever of which you run and tweet to amazement of your followers. And then later that evening you’re playing Words With Friends with your ex boyfriend from college who you may or may not have lost your virginity to when he brings up said tweets and reminds you that your freshman year roommate was in a porn called “Cap’n Stabbin’s Anal Adventures”, something that you haven’t thought about in years and then tweet about immediately, forgetting temporarily that another one of your roommates is also on Twitter who then responds that she too remembers your roommate who was in a porn in college at which point you remember screening said porn when you were still with your now ex husband and wanting to vomit which then reminds you that you guys met at Easy Street, which is now Sullivan’s, which is also where you first met said friend who originally sent you the awesome captain dating website and introduced you to your most recent ex boyfriend which is why you were bummed and needed cheering up in the first place.  And because of your ex husband you realize that that is why you work at Steal Your Soul,  Inc. and because of Steal Your Soul, Inc. you started a blog and then got on Twitter which is how you met aforementioned original friend above and everything is so meta right now and you wonder what your freshman year roommate who was in the porn is up to right this very second, but you should probably go to sleep since it’s midnight and you need to be at Steal Your Soul, Inc. in the morning.

Bring It Back To Basics!

Baby beer!

My manager told me I dress too much like a hobo last week and suggested I, “bring it back to basics” when it comes to my way of dress in the workplace. I’m not sure exactly what that means, but I dig it. I dig it a lot.  As a matter of fact I like it so much Imma go ahead and declare 2011 as the Year of Bringing It Back to Basics!

For example: Are you low on cash but still want to go out and get zany?  Bring it back to basics by smuggling in a flask filled with your favorite booze.  Annoyed with too many babies on Facespace?  No problem. Bring it back to basics and start posting pictures of your fake babies out at various bars around town in hopes moms of the internet get the hint. (They won’t, but it’s fun regardless).  Has your check engine light been on for the past two months and your car smells like burning?  No problem! Bring it back to basics and simply ignore the fuck out of that check engine light.  Spend money on car repairs? LOL! No thank you! 

 

You can see that bringing it back to basics is 1-rad and 2-basically means not giving a rip about most things, which works with my general disposition and outlook on life.  Give it a try and see if you find yourself checking your mail monthly and taking out your recycling only when the number of wine bottles lined up on the kitchen floor starts to resemble a small army of awesome!  Your outlook on life will thank you. You’re welcome in advance.

Foodie Redux

Hi. Let's eat some food.

Oh shit, you guys! I’ve been so busy making out and being awesome I totes McGoats forgot to write about my guest appearance on richmond.com’s Five Questions With a Foodie.  It’s funny. Go read it. Or don’t. Either way go fuck yourself and never forget “foodie” is not a word.  Happy Hollerdays!

A Christmas Miracle!

The way we were

Last night I decided to celebrate the upcoming birth of your Lord and Savior by getting mad zany with a couple of equally crazy bitches who enjoy drinking and all around bitchery just as much as yours truly.  After several vats of wine a fella approaches us and asks if could be so honored to buy us a shot (in honor of the Baby Jesus), to which we replied, “Fucking duh”.  Now the problem with accepting any form of alcohol from someone with a penis is that you’re then expected to talk to them afterward.  Café Darkness does not like this and fortunately for me, I was not the one stuck having to make conversation (yay!) and continued being awesome while my friend fell victim to his rambling. However, being the good friend I am, I promptly responded to the third jab to my leg (which in girl speak means stop fucking ignoring the fact I’m getting ear raped by this douche bag and help me) and saved her straight away.  That’s when a Christmas miracle happened and the most awesome exchange of 2010 occurred.

Me to Friend Who Needed Saving:  I can’t believe Kelly is going to be at the Christmas party later.

Friend (Not knowing WTF I was talking about but knowing to just roll with it): I know, right? Whatta bitch.

Me: I can’t stand her. Even though it was years ago I can’t stand the fact she hooked up with Dylan in the pool when I was studying abroad in Paris for the summer!

Him: What happened? Who hooked up? What?

Me: That bitch Kelly hooked up with MY boyfriend in a pool when I was in Paris. She was my best friend but now I hate her!

Him: Oh my god, how long ago did this happen?

Me: High school, but still, I lost my virginity to him at prom! It was kinda a big deal.

Him: Oh my god, that is terrible!

Me: I know, right? I was so upset about it I ended up not going to same college as everyone else for a semester but then was so lonely I transferred back but then eventually left the show because I was too much of a bitch in real life to tolerate.

Friend (Who is about to lose her shit):  Donna Martin graduates?

Me: Barely. But yes.

Him (Who is clearly the dumbest and drunkest person in Richmond): God man, that really sucks. I’m sorry to hear that.

Me: Then my parents moved to Japan and everyone randomly continued living in my old house which always confused me. Anyways, you ready to go to this party?

Friend: Yes.

Him: Ok, I’ll let you ladies go ahead and go to your party, but I feel for you. Breakups are hard. Even from high school.

Happy Holidays!

Happy Holidays!

It’s the most wonderfully annoying time of the year when Facespace updates are filled with pictures of Santa babies, your Christmas tree that no one gives a shit about and cookies you baked that I will not eat!  Behold the Top Five Most Annoying Things about the Holidays!

1-Holiday parties at the office!  On Wednesday I have four (4) separate and distinct Christmas “parties” to attend for Steal Your Soul, Inc.  Please note, these are not optional as I skipped them all last year and was warned to “never do that again”.  My bad, I was busy taking a three hour lunch while the rest of the idiots here were engaging in awkward Christmas chit chat.  Anywhoos, people here go absolutely bananas for Christmas office festivities as they are all fucking losers with no life.  I will never forget the zany antics from a few years ago when Annoying Coworker #45 almost flipped her shit at the Dirty Santa Gift Exchange!  She wanted that bottle of wine and gosh darn it, she got it! We still talk about it to this day!   

2-Facespace in general.  Christmas time on Facespace takes the annoying and cranks it up to a level that is almost unfathomable.  Not only do I have to see your baby, I have to see your baby with Santa.  And your baby in the snow. And your baby opening gifts it doesn’t need.  Add in the pictures of your Christmas Tree no one cares about with a dash of “baking cookies for Santa” status updates and here’s me seriously debating deleting my account all together as my blood pressure is already dangerously high from the inordinate amount of drinking and smoking I do. 

3-Buying presents. I hate buying presents.  Not because I don’t like giving people awesome things, but because I stress out and wonder if the present I think is radsauce will be regarded by the receiver as the dumbest fucking thing they’ve ever gotten and why do they hang out with me in the first place and maybe we should revaluate our relationship immediately because there is no way in hell I want to associate with someone who thinks (fill in the blank) is an appropriate gift for anyone to receive ever. 

4-Spending time with family. Praise the Baby Jesus, this really doesn’t apply to me, but I have to hear all of you bitch about your Very Merry Passive Aggressive Christmas and to that I say, “I’m sorry your family sucks so hard and your mom is thinking about leaving your dad and your sister is pregnant (again) and due on your birthday which will no longer be your birthday but the baby’s birthday and the dog needs to have its leg removed and will be a tripod”.  Meep motherfucking meep.

5-Christmas ads.  Normally I don’t really have to see these as I don’t watch much television because I’m busy living my life, but the other day I caught this little gem and immediately wanted to murder everyone.  I can’t believe this is a real ad that someone thought of, made and then said, “Oh fuck yes, this is some good shit.  This is a game changer.”.”  Shoot. Me. Now.

Texts From This Morning

RIP

Friend: Hello. I am still drunk.

Me: 4Loko is donezo.

Friend: What?

Me: They’re removing the caffeine.

Friend: What the fuck?

Friend: No.

Me: They just announced it.

Friend: Oh.

Friend: Wow.

Friend: I hate everything.

Me: Right?

Friend: Buying things now.

Me: Yes.

Friend: Ok.

A Mother’s Love

Vomitorium

Sometimes visiting my mom is like going on Oprah. Or rather, at least what I would imagine going on Oprah would feel like, minus everyone getting a car and her dictating what books I read. I go for a quick visit and all of a sudden I’m being told everything I’m doing wrong in life and how I should fix it and why don’t I just listen to her once in a while, god damn it?  My evening with dear old mom when something like this:

 

Upon me entering and not even sitting down yet:

Mom: Okay, lemme see it.

Me: Uh. Really? Can I sit down first?

Mom: No.

Me: Oh. Ok.

Mom:  Jesus, that thing is ugly. I mean, it’s not *as* bad as I thought it would be, I guess. Kind of looks like a prison tattoo. 

Me: Yay?

Mom: No.

Me: Oh. Ok.

Mom: So…..any new boyfriends?

Me: Noooooope!

Mom: Zero prospects?

Me: Affirmative. S’aint happenin’.

Mom: What’s the problem, here? Why can’t you meet anybody?

Me: Dunno. I mean, to be honest, I’m not even trying even a little.  I’m just living my life.  I don’t care.  I want the iPhone 4.

Mom: What? Huh?  You make zero sense.

Me: Forget it. It was a joke!

 

About ten minutes later:

Mom: You need to find a boyfriend who will cook for you.

Me: Ha! Ok! Sounds like a plan!

Mom: You’re malnourished.

Me: No. A steady diet of peanut butter and macaroni and cheese is perfectly nutritious.

 

Five minutes later:

Mom:  What about some of those dating websites?

Me: LORD, NO!

Mom: It has to be better than speed dating, right?

Me: I’M NOT SPEED DATING! JESUS! Do you think I’m that desperate?

Mom: Well………..

 

 

One minute later:

Mom: Maybe if you stopped getting tattoos and you cut your hair you would get a date.

Me: I don’t want a date.

Mom: You do.

Me: No.  Dates cause problems. Right now I’m problem free. Let’s keep it that way.

Mom: You will never give me grandchildren.

Me: Correct.

Ah, a mother’s love.  What a sweet, lovely thing it is.

Foodie

It's OK, I don't know what any of that is, either.

Foodie (noun).  A made up word one pretentiously calls oneself to let you know they eat food better than you.  Those who use this word in a non-ironic manner alert everyone they are going to talk about the meal they prepared last night in excruciating detail, much to the disdain of those around them.  For example:

Foodie: “I prepared the most amazing lamb shank last night with a fantastic ginger and cilantro rub. Although you would think the ginger and cilantro would fight against each other, the tenderness and gaminess of the lamb really helped blend the flavor profiles beautifully.  I even paired it with a fantastic seasonal IPA I found at this new market around the corner.  Definitely making that again around holidays. Plus also, ceviche.”

You: (Blank Stare). “Oh. Ok.”

Foodies spend an abnormal portion of their free time talking about “the best” of any and every type of food.  Which restaurant has the best Cuban sandwich? Where can you find the best crab benedict asparagus breakfast burrito omelet?  How about the best Thai-Korean-Ethiopian taco truck?  Whereas there is no end to discovering the “best of” any type of consumable good, for some reason that is beyond comprehension, coffee and pizza seem to be the holy grail of “best of”.  Foodies, if left to their own devices, would talk about coffee and pizza 92-93% of the time, with the remaining 8-7% spent discussing next spring’s vegetable garden. 

When one encounters a foodie, it is best to simply nod your head and heartily agree with all of their recommendations and concur that is next to impossible to find a decent tuna tartare in this god damn town, but yes, that new Ugandan place down the street is going to be the best thing to happen to restaurants in the history of the world.

Ooh the flossy flossy!

I Hate Yoooooooooou

Wow! Look at you lucky sonsabitches! Three posts in one week. Lordy! What is this? 2009? Suck it, bitches.  For your information I had already written today’s post yesterday, but Steal Your Soul’s computer decided to eat it like a sacrificial lamb. Meh. It wasn’t all that great anyways. It was basically me just ranting about how much I hate T Saur swarming around my desk a trillion times a day and asking him to sit the fuck down.  So instead of T Saur I want to discuss my gum AIDS. 

About a month ago one of my coworker’s (who I actually like and will talk to) went to the dentist and was told she had four (4!!) cavities that all could have been prevented if she flossed.  Going to the dentist makes me cold sweat, but getting cavities filled makes me throw clots.  Unfortunately, I also really hate flossing and admit I do it never.  However, her trip to the dentist scared me straight.  If you can cure the gay, then you sure as hell can cure being mouth gross!  I went to the store that night and purchased myself some real nice floss.  Of course it took me a few more weeks to actually start using it, but once I did I immediately started feeling better about myself.  I felt responsible, like a normal grown up. I even considered checking my mail more than bi-monthly, but decided to not take on too much, too soon.

It wasn’t too much longer after I started taking baby steps toward proper dental hygiene when I started noticing my gums were itchy like whoa. Who has itchy gums? This girl. How is that even possible?  I don’t know, but as I’m typing right now I have the insatiable urge to rake a pair of gardening shears across my mouth. Gross? Yes, very.  I’m not sure what I’m going to do about it or how one gets rid of their itchy gums but once I figure it out, I’ll holler and let y’all know. Also, let me know if you or someone you love has had this ailment and whose leg you humped to rid yourself of this malady.  Maybe if there are enough of us, we can start some type of support group. 

PS-For those of you grossed out by my gum AIDS, be thankful. I could’ve written about the period I’m having. You. Are. Welcome.

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