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 and randomly emailing ladies he thinks he’s interested in. Note: He’s not actually on; 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…

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!


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!


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?