Wednesday FYI

'Corn Porn

T Saur and his on again, off again, on again, and off once again girlfriend are donezo for the time being.  He’s now resorted to trolling match.com and randomly emailing ladies he thinks he’s interested in. Note: He’s not actually on match.com; he just scrolls through and looks at pictures and emails them to see if they would be interested in meeting.  Ew.  Much like online dating, he is gross. 

Speaking of dating, Mom is concerned that I’m dating, and I quote here, “zero people.” She says she doesn’t “get it” and why can’t someone introduce me to someone?!  I told her to mind her own gd business because it’s of no concern to her and I’m tired of meeting crazy people who want to wear my skin as a suit.  I’d much prefer to go out and get MC Hammered with my friends and not worry about it. Shit! Leave me alone!

While we’re discussing crazy people, I really need to stop answering numbers I don’t recognize. Just a mere thirty minutes ago my phone rang and I made the mistake of answering. Much to my delight and surprise it was very inebriated person of the male variety inviting me to meet him at Bojangles. As hard as it was to decline the invitation to eat biscuits and gravy on Nine Mile Road at nine thirty AM on a Tuesday, I had to work, so…..no.

It’s always nice to see my ex husband and be reminded why I’m so much happier without him. Last night’s visit was no exception.  Straight away I noticed what can only be described as a watch one would wear whilst playing bocce ball in Boca Raton. I freaked out and asked him if he was wearing that old man watch ironically?  He said no, it was badass and expensive (duh!) and he loved it which made me laugh hard. Then he told me he was considering moving to downtown Short Pump at which point I was laughing so much tears were streaming down my face. “Oh my god I’m so glad we’re not together anymore! You’re such a dork! Ha!” Wow. What the fuck was I thinking? Good Lord.

Wednesday is the new Randomday! Duh!

Yes!

Top o the mornin’ to ya, poppets!  Boy oh boy, there’s a lot going on right now so let’s get right to it.

RVA’s greatest love affair is back on! No, no. I’m not talking about me and my imaginary boyfriend, Alejandro (who is absolutely perfect by the way). I’m talking about T Saur and his cheatin’ girlfriend/ex girlfriend/girlfriend. He decided to “roll the dice” a third time and see how things pan out with his “chick”.  Good call, idiot.  Related: if he says the word “chick” to me one more time I’m going to roundhouse kick him in his sallow, haggard face.

You guys, check this shit out! Someone else besides my mom thinks I’m (semi/maybe/okay not really at all) funny and who else do I have to thank for this besides the one and only Sara Palin!  Finally my useless English degree and hatred for right-wing nut jobs has paid off!  Dying. I am dead now. Now my cat is homeless.

Last night I was out for a ditty and enjoyed some $1.00 Greyhounds (heaven) when I went outside for a smoke break.  One extremely intoxicated gentle fellow drunkenly ambles over and all I’m thinking is that I wanted to enjoy my sweet cig and play some Words With Friends and no, I don’t want to talk to you, but thanks for coming out.  Baby Jesus ignored my wishes (JUST LIKE HE ALWAYS DOES!) and he comes over and throws out what may be the best (and by best I mean worst) pickup line I’ve ever heard:

Him: Sooooooooo I was just wondering……….(insert pause for an awkward amount of time here)…….how…uh….how…uh…SHORT are you?  You’re REALLY….uh….SHORT!

Me: Ha! Oh dear!

Him: So…..right…..what was the question?

Me: My height. You wanted to know my height. Don’t worry about the numbers, just know I’m a legal midget. And we prefer the term “little people”.

Him: Oh…….ah…….ok….gotta go.

Me: See ya!  

I love that guy. I want to make him my baby daddy/future ex husband. Call me!

Whatchu Mean it’s Wednesday?!

Who's That Girl?!

It’s been a minute since I served up some Wednesday Random Chicken Soup for the Soulless, so why the hell not today? Respect.

Guess who took a day off today?!?! TSaur! WTF, mate?  A fortunate side effect of T dating his new lady (“that chick” he calls her) is that he now takes days off. I don’t know where they’re going because I don’t care. All I care about is not having to smell him or deal with his presence buzzing behind me two trillion times/day!

I got nominated for some more stuff I have no chance of winning!  Whoot!  Go vote for me….or not. It’s totally up to you.  All I know is if Richmond Slumlord Watch beats me again (right?), I’ll throw a clot. 

I’m going through a bit of a dry spell when it comes to less fair sex. It happens from time to time and instead of feeling sorry for myself for the lack of dates/action/sex parties, I like to look on the bright side!  Think of all the great things there are to being single with zero prospects.  There’s no need to shave your legs every day!  You don’t need to worry about your underroos matching, or even being sexy. Comfy underwear, FTW!  Other great things include, but are not limited to: more quality time with your dogs, making awesome playlists that only you will listen to, eating  lots of cheese and getting ready for the next season of Big Brother which you will be able to watch 24/7 because you have nothing else going on. Yeah!

The Fourth of July is this weekend and this girl has herself a four-day weekend. Holler loudly while doing roundhouse kicks of excitement.  While 99% of RVA residents will head to the river/beach/sex pary, I’ll be in town keeping everything on lockdown.  Why? Because I’m not rich enough to be able to go anywhere.  It’s all good though because four-day weekends = four distinct opportunities for shenanigans and adventures.  Maybe I’ll even go Unicorn watching!

I’ll take my Wednesday with a size of Randoms!

Oh, oh, oh!

Hey-o. Happy Hump Day, bitches! I know, right? It’s kinda of like Tuesday because of the holiday and kind of like Lil Friday since I’m off on Big Friday (Three day work week. Don’t hate). Regardless, “irregardless” is a not a word and here are your Wednesday ditties!

As we all know, I hate doing laundry. I hate doing laundry even more in the summer when it’s like a god damn Brazilian rainforest in that shit hole laundry room. You know what makes it even worse? When there’s a semi-senile 85-year-old man also ( ever so slowly) putting individual pieces of clothing in a washing machine whilst wearing pants with holes in the ass sans underwear. Right. My rods and cones will never be the same.

I need to start remembering that not *everyone* shares my sense of humor so when playing a rousing game of “Funny/Not Funny”, some people will find my humor to be offensive. Sorry, y’all. I just gots to be me!

Entirely too much of my weekend was retold in percentages of certainty. Ex: I’m 90% sure we discussed (fill in the blank), I’m 70-75% sure I did (fill in the blank), etc, etc ad nauseam into infinity. One this is for certain and that is was a 100% awesome.

Speaking of degrees of awesome, WTF is up with RVA as of late? Everywhere I go people are raging against the machine and going bananas. It seems to be all people can talk about, too. “WTF is going on? Why is everyone losing their minds and taking it to the next level?” I don’t blame it on the rain, alcohol or hillbilly heroin. I blame it on Old Man Winter being such an insufferable sonofabitch. So the next time you wake up with a hangover from hell, blame it on the weather. Whoot!  Side note: Me and shots are getting a divorce. Woo-woos are still fine, but shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shots need to leave my life.

A Very Richmond Edition of Wednesday Randoms

Last night I sashayed shanted myself to the Style Weekly Very Richmond party. It was loads of fun but the highlight of the evening was seeing the infamous Meade Skelton perform not one, not two but three songs. He crooned his heart out and ended it with my fav “Hipsters Ruin Everything” because you know, when you think about it, they really do.  After his rousing performance I even got to shake his hand and give him a hug Café Darkness style! Squee! I think he gave my glass of wine the stink eye, though. Sorry, it’s not Cheerwine, Meade.

Did you know you’re very Richmond if you have a blog and think you’re way more clever than you really are?  It’s true! Take me for example. I think I’m funnier than I am in reality.  I also abhor nuts in my sweet treats, bed and breakfasts, and the word “sprout” but that’s another story all together!

My one-way ticket to hell was signed, sealed and delivered this morning when I could barely contain my laughter as a coworker described a party she went to last week. She said she ran into an old friend who was having a grand ole time dancing and laughing and taking pictures like bananas with his girlfriend. In between cutting a carpet, she said that he told her he had to be on dialysis three times a week and used to be homeless. I could barely get out the question between the tears to please explain and let me get this straight; I can’t pay a guy to take me out to get a god damn Wendy’s combo number 3 but a fucking ex-hobo with busted kidneys is getting laid on the regs? Nice. I’m still chuckling, by the way.

My manager is on a cruise this week. I’m glad she can afford to go on vacation, because I sure as shit can’t. (HIRE ME!) In typical TLW style I am taking full advantage of the lack of supervision by coming in an hour late, taking two hour lunches and bouncing early as a mofo.  This has been the best week ever.

We are turning one!

Happy birthday to us!

UPDATED AT 2:34 PM EST! 

Hi, guys. Guess what?  Our little baby blog is turning one on Friday. Can you believe it?  I would like to take a trip down memory lane if you don’t mind and revisit some of my favorite posts from the past year.  

I tickled myself pink when I created my own bar guide.  A year later it is still shockingly accurate. Kudos to me!  

We took it really hard when Terrell Brown left NBC 12 last summer. Barista and I still wax poetic about infamous time our main man did a snow angel on the side of Midlothian Turnpike in two inches of snow with his microphone still on. God damn, that was great.  

We are good at generalizations and stereotypes (they save time). Nowhere is this more evident than our Virginia College Retrospective series. Barista’s tribute to Randolph Macon and my ditty about JMU are my favs.  Please note, these posts still receive comments which cause me to LOL/ROTFL/LMBO forever.  

Remember when I got Billy Mays? I do, too. Longest relationship I’ve had since my big D.  

Then we went on vacation!  

One of my favorite Top Fives!  

Remember when RVA was obsessed with naming our new baseball team? I still wish the Richmond Hambones won, but whatever. Screw it.  

Cat Scratch Fever took over my life in November. Barista had to get all intervention up on my ass with the help of a few of our friends. R.I.P Little Jerry Seinfeld!    

Stop bitching about the heat. Remember all of this bullshit?  

Bob McDonnell and The Cooch really step up the crazy, making my job a hell of a lot easier. Thanks, guys!  

I tried to leave UMOT out of it, but was quickly scolded on my decision.  The thought of getting called bitter one more time made my skin crawl.  But hey, it’s a great post. Plus also, two different people are now committed into buying me all the tacos I can eat if I get called something I deem nasty. Cheers!   

Here’s to another year of snarky badassery. See y’all at the club.

Wednesday Randoms on a Tuesday eve!

 Oh hai, Wednesday! What’s shakin’ you sexy bitch? I suppose if you want to get technical on my ass it’s Tuesday night, but none of you will read this until tomorrow and TLW has a dentist appointment in the AM, aight?! Enough with the pleasantries. Let’s get on to some random haps, shall we?   

   

TSaur found a new girlfriend! How does he always have a steady stream of ladies interested in dating his stank ass?  Honestly, I’m about to just throw in the towel entirely. He’s getting action on the regs and I can’t trick some guy into buying me dinner on a Friday night?  Ridic.  He went on a “fitness date” with new lady on Monday and a coworker of mine spotted him running in Forest Hill Park.  (Gross!)  True to form he dressed as a douche EVEN WHEN RUNNING, which is impressive.  Instead of regular running shoes he wears these:  

   

Oh My

   

Right.  Moving on.    

   

   

   

Too many people are down with the power of the horn these days. Unis are becoming a bit too mainstream for my tastes. It’s time to move onto a new fantastical creature.  Up for the running are:  

   

Medusa.  (Dirty slut!)   

Snakes on a head!

   

Sirens (Dudes run into rocks then they hear their sweet beats!):  

I like singing, too!

 

Harpies. (They steal food! Mostly from guys! Ha!)   

 

   

I also have nice hair!

 

 

Last week I was in the CVS near my crib when this crazy man comes up to me and asks me how my dogs were doing. I didn’t recognize him as Crazy Neighbor at first. He’s lost a lot of weight and grown his hair out a bit. Actually he looks a lot like this guy:

I miss Arrested Development!

Anywhoos, I say they’re fine, all is well, blah blah blah. Then he asks me why, “I changed my identity?”  I asked him what he meant and he said that my hair was a different color and was I trying to be someone else?  I laughed and said no, I wasn’t running from the Feds or anything like that, just changing things up. Then he told me women can easily change their identities, but it’s harder for men.  After that he called me “his pretty girl” and walked away.  If I end up missing, point Nancy Drew in the direction of this guy, please?    

    

        

 

Can I get a Unicorn? For TLW, “Yes We Can!”

I voted for him, too!

It’s been a minute since we served up some Wednesday Randoms so why not have it? Yes, I realize it’s Thursday but I took a knee and called in sick on Tuesday so it’s my Wednesday.  Let’s not split hairs, okay?

Speaking of calling in sick when you’re not, y’all should all do this. Immediately. It’s grand.  Sometimes happy hours continue a bit too late into the evening and, before you know it, it’s midnight and you’re still out on a school night!  Most of the time this is a non-issue and I just go to work tired and unproductive because I hate it here.  On Tuesday morning I debated going in and then remembered I haven’t gotten a raise since November 2007 and quickly decided against it.  Tuesday nap times! FTW!

We are now on week three of TSaur ignoring me.  These have been the best three weeks of my entire life since I started working in this shit hole.  However, worry not, readers! I still get the scoop on T’s love life via the coworkers he still pesters.  He’s got a big date tonight so watch out downtown, RVA. You may see T in his spiffy zip up cardigan and snazzy new hair cut romancing his new lady around town. Fist pump if you see him! (But really, don’t because then he won’t leave you alone.  Gross.) 

I am the clumsiest person I know.  Case in point: falling not once, but twice this past weekend. I’ll own Friday.  Red wine, Rumplemintz, tequila and brewskies do not a good combination make so when I tripped and fell walking home I definitely deserved it.  Saturday? Not so much. I was barely in my cups when skipping across Robinson St. I run into a parked car, somehow spin around in the air, mouth to my friends “I’m going to faaaaaaaaall” and proceed to skid across the street showing off my who-ha in the process. Always a trooper, this minor snafu did not make me tardy for the party and I continued about my business unfettered by my recently acquired scrapes.   

The Library of Congress recently announced their plans to archive every Tweet ever sent which begs the questions……..why?  No, I mean really? Have y’all been on Twitter? I mean,  I heart it.  There are some funny mofos on the Twitter and it’s a nice distraction when at work, but for serious? There’s no need to archive a bunch of people talking about how big of a slut your mom is and what their milkshake brings to the yard. Trust.

St. Patrick’s Day Randoms!

McPretty!

Every year on St. Patrick’s Day I can’t help but remember losing my v card.  What’s that?  Didn’t everyone make sexy for the first time on St. Patrick’s Day? No?  Oh, well.  Your loss.  Ah, the memories of awkward sexy times and four-leaf clovers and cheap beer and grossness!   

If I had three wishes they would be as follows: The Postal Service would make another album, I would have a unicorn has a house pet and a certain Virginia Attorney General would agree to be the star in a reality TV show on Fox called “If I Can’t See You Then You Must Not Exist”.  I would totally turn in to see his crazy antics and shenanigans! I have feeling he would put his house plants in time out for looking at him funny and ask for all his groceries to be double bagged in plastic.   

Barista is a bit of a snake charmer.  She can make you change your mind and question fundamental life choices.  Her abilities shine when playing Would You Rather. Would you rather have spaghetti hair or sweat mayonnaise? Sweat mayonnaise, obvi. I would make sandwiches off myself!  Don’t ask B though because she’ll have you wishing you had spaghetti hair quicker than say, “God hates stupid people.”  The girl is crafty like ice is cold!   

Like a Leprechaun, I’ve never actually seen Chatroulette but that doesn’t mean I’m not obsessed with it.  Magical and wily Chatroutlette is! If I were to get up in Chatroulette I would totally only speak Jedi and advocate the benefits of a healthy lifestyle. “If big butts you like not, then get fit, you must!”

Friday is the New Wednesday!

I make your job harder!

Normally we provide y’all with Wednesday Randoms to help you get over that hump but since this is the Year of Not Our Problem, you’re getting it on Friday.  Plus also, I’m marrying Jesus so there is no such thing as Hump Day anymore. Sorry, Charles!

 

Mail Be Gone! There are many routine tasks I avoid at all costs. Laundry, talking on the phone and paying bills all come to mind. For some reason checking my mail has also been added to the list. Personally I see no need to check it more than once a week or so. It’s all bills and stuff I don’t care about so why deal with that every day when I can do it just once a week?  Admittedly the side effect of this is that it does make my mailman’s job harder, but honestly that’s his problem.  At first he would just passively aggressively toss the extra mail on the steps.  Yesterday he stepped up his A game and went so far as to leave me a PUBLIC NOTE ON THE MAILBOX requesting me to, “Please clean out my box.”  The irony of my note was not lost on me and new found oath of celibacy.  Sorry, Mr. Mailman. No can do.  Put that Val-Pak on the steps, I’m not checking shit!

 

 

No entry! You like how I just slipped that in there? (No pun intended!) Ladies, no need to watch your mens because this girl is not interested. I’m tired of the less fair sex so I’m donezo for an undetermined about of time. Boys are gross and I can’t be so bothered.  I’m going to be my own girlfriend and I’ll be the best gf ever! I’m going to call me when I say I will, always be interested in how my day was and make the sexy whenever I want to. Whoot!

 

 

Playlists!  Each season requires its own playlist and creating said playlist is a task not to be taken lightly.  The first rule of creating a playlist is to fill that mofo up with some pretty obscure shit, thus giving yourself street cred for having a badass taste in music.  Then, when no one is looking, slip one (1) Top 40 gem in there.  Before you know it you have yourself a little bit of a musical situation and your guests will all “Oh shit, TLW! This song is rad!” and then you’re all, “Right?  Everyone else thinks so, too. You just danced to Shakira, bitch!”  A little bit of them will die inside.  It’s a good time, trust.