Christmastime in the Emerald City











{July 31, 2008}   Oh, the Inevitability

So when I initially started this blog, or more like later on when my ratings were at their best, most of what I wrote about was shit that pissed me off, and other forms of snarky ass humour. Nobody, I figured, is going to be much interested in happy boring things like “today my rabbit was adorable”. But lately, a lot of happy exciting things have been going on, most notably with Josh, and our adventures in trying to get together across the miles and legal brouhaha.

And so I’ve created another blog. I’d like to keep this one open for those times when someone is being enough of a fucktard to warrant a nice Auntie Em lashing, or the current whereabouts of various has-beens becomes too much of a curious mystery to leave unsolved. This here page is returning to its sarcastic humourous roots.

That second blog, by the way, is actually a joint effort between Josh and myself, which we both thought was a great idea. So far it’s getting good reviews. Feel free to check it out here. Right now I’m probably on there more often just because that’s what’s most often on my mind, but not to worry! The sarcastic, snarky mood will strike again soon! I feel it brewing as I type. Nevermind Macaulay Culkin, what ever happened to his annoying cousin Bud or whatever his name was, the one with the pet tarantula? I’ll get to that in a day or so. But in between snarky outlets, if you feel I’m far too absent and you happen to miss my awesomeness and don’t mind me bitching about shitty MSN connections and the complications of crossing the border, feel free to check it out.

Love! And stabby gestures. Cause that’s how I roll, you know.

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(editors note, WordPress appears to be fucking up, and I can not reformat this post to have any spaces between the paragraphs, this is not because I am retarded, it’s because the internet is retarded. Thank you for your time)

There’s a lot of damn things out there that make me happy, but I think I’ve been spewing enough lately about how awesome my boyfriend is, how cute my rabbits are, and how I’m so awesome my farts smell like Cinnamon Buns (seriously, Josh made a shirt telling me so.)

Yes, I am this awesome

Yes, I am this awesome

It is time, I feel, to get back on the rant wagon once in a while. It’s not good to keep all that well-worded rage bottled up inside. It wouldn’t be fair for me to clock a preppy blonde soccer mom in the face just because she reminds me of that bitchface in the Tostitos commercials. I’d at least have to clock her for the right reason – being a preppy blonde soccer mom in the first place. So lets get this show on the road.
The Tostitos Bitch
I can’t find anything on Youtube for this, mostly because only funny and worthwhile stuff is on Youtube, not mindless media propaganda. But I’m sure you can imagine it: some ridiculously well manicured preppy blonde is standing in her kitchen while a gaggle of healthy teens and doofusy dad barrel through – clearly she is super busy, just like EveryMom. Oh but she has the solution for that after school or mid game snack, oh yes! And it’s quick too, that’s the whole premise of these commercials: she finishes whipping up a Tostitos themed masterpiece with time left on the clock and cutely retardedly stands there looking at the camera.
Firstly, I don’t know about you, but it takes me a fuck of a lot longer than 30 seconds to blend expensive brand name shit in a food processor, pour it in a bowl and surround it by expensive brand name chips. Secondly, this attempt to appeal to EveryMom and give her the impression that she should be able to do the same pisses me off *almost* as much as the clear indication that she will turn into superefficientperfectlycoordinatedeverymom if she only adds Tostitos products to her next grocery list.
Fuck you! Do you know how expensive that shit is? Do you have any idea how quickly those three and a half dollar jars of fake cheese add up? Do you really think that once I squeeze out a few kids I’m really going to care about whipping out the food processor every day after school? Or quickly slicing up some buffalo mozarrella with a leaf of fresh basil and placing it daintily on a chip thirty times over? You better believe that if I have that kind of energy, it’s because I don’t have to work full time in which case I A) won’t be able to afford Tostitos brand products on a near daily basis and B) would rather spend the time, energy and money on something far more creative. Like a pie.
You want a quick and easy snack? Open a bag of chips you overachieving cow. Shut your thirty second face.
Middle Aged Suburbanites on the Subway
Okay, all you mommies and daddies that have to spend a fortune on a babysitter for your spoiled brats and then justify it by leaving your gas guzzling SUV in the driveway and taking the subway into the downtown core for the first date you’ve had since the drugstore ran out of condoms eight years ago, listen up: You’re not cool or hip, or whatever else you used to call yourselves back when you had a life. Your pressed jeans and new top freshly purchased at Winners piss me off, and you stick out like a fat chick at an anti-carb convention. Likewise your cheap highlights, fake leather jacket and tendency to compete for the SAME GODDAMNED HAIRCUT AS EVERYONE ELSE ON YOUR KIDS HOCKEY TEAM! Have you ever seen these creatures? These suburbanite flocks that all do the same weird over-the-age-of-30 shuffle on a bar-and-grill dance floor? Because that’s what they do on their big trip into town, and they talk about it ALL THE WAY THERE!
Pizza Pops
Because they go out the same way they go in. Orange and greasy 😦
Beer Bottles Without Twist Tops
Do I really need another device between me and my beer? If I’m having a beer it’s because it’s been a long ass day and I feel like hanging out and being a lazy ass. Why is it necessary, so absolutely essential, that I now have to get up and get the fucking bottle opener that I forgot to get on the way back from getting the beer since it’s so unnatural to have to stop and fetch an implement to facilitate drinking the beer that I’ve already spent the effort on getting into my hand? That was a long sentence, did you catch all that? I’ve already spent all the energy I want to spend today on GETTING THE BEER TO MY HAND. And now you want me to do more stuff? Does this not crush the spirit of beer? Some of you are nice, some of you play by the rules! Them other ones, the ones I can just pop off with my sweaty little girl hands, those guys are alright. But you assholes who give me some excuse about how it affects the bottling process or flavour or some such micro-brewery connoisseur bullshit, you motherfuckers slice my drunken hand open with your sharp non-twist edges! I hate you guys.
And if you want to know why I don’t just get beer in a can it’s because I already feel trashy enough drinking beer by myself with dirty hair in an un-airconditioned apartment next to a bag of cheetos without the can of Pabst or whatever you get in cans. I might as well just prop a car up on cinderblocks in my non-kitchen.
Cars with Ridiculous SubWoofers and the Assholes Behind the Wheel
So what’s the first thing you think when you see that sweet upgrade on your tiny dick little ride? “Oh fucking sweet dude, now everybody I drive past is going to instantly hate me for interrupting their movies, sleep, conversation, and awkward sexual advances. I rule!” What the fuck? If you’ve got this sound system, you’re automatically an idiot. If you weren’t an idiot, you’d know that you can only hear to a certain extent, and below this frequency you can’t hear a thing – you can only feel it, and you can only feel it twenty feet away where you AREN’T! You’re paying for a system that does not much extra for you, but does fucktons to irritate people nowhere near enough to your proximity to have done anything to deserve your overpriced interruption. If you’re paying to be an asshole, you suck.
And lastly, my personal favourite:
Motherfucking Greyhound
I don’t have near enough energy to go into the precise details of how much I hate Greyhound, but let me put it this way. Greyhound kept me waiting from 1am to 5:45 am in Richmond, Virginia surrounded by blaring TVs going into incessant depth on the latest Hulk Hogan death threat. Greyhound doesn’t seem to understand how to tell crazy bitches who clearly just had their hair did that their tater tot kids don’t get to strut in front of the other 150 people in the lineup – some of whom also have kids. Greyhound apparently pissed me off enough in Washington that I can’t remember a thing about the city. Greyhound had me run around the New York City bus stop with unidentified gates and passengers trying to get to Switzeland. Greyhound advises their new drivers to wander away from the vehicle when it breaks down for two hours at a truckstop halfway to Syracuse to better facilitate the crazy toothless truck driver who feels like climbing aboard to tell everyone all about the horrible bus crash he saw three weeks ago where eleven people died, despite my insistent questions “Who are you and why are you on my bus?” Greyhouse likes to advise dispatch of the wrong directions, sending my driver into the wrong end of some asswipe of a town nowhere near where I’m supposed to be. Greyhound likes to say “‘Dat ain’t mah prawllum, ma’am” instead of “this query of yours does not pertain to my job description, please go to the help desk where nobody is waiting to assist you.” Greyhound throws your shit to the ground hard enough to send your lipstick rolling through the gutters of the US Border Patrol. Greyhound doesn’t clean their bathrooms. Greyhound likes to thank me for choosing them. Greyhound is how I kicked my hardshell suitcase hard enough to break my toe.
Greyhound, you suck.
*Shakes fist*


{July 8, 2008}   Sex and the South

Hello all my patient readers, yes, all four of you probably remaining after I’ve been away for about a month. What the hell ass has been going on over here, you may be wondering? Jes?

Well. Let me tell you.

For those not in the know, last October someone who’s blog I read commented on one of my posts. He was thusly blogrolled, as is often the case. His name is Josh, going by Rotgut McCoy at the time, over on blogspot until someone told him how much better wordpress is. Anyway, we had fun reading each others posts, and then graduated to facebook and instant messenger, talking every day, sometimes for hours after work. It got to the point where we got along so well, we started wondering what kind of ridiculous cosmic joke was being played on us. You’d think we would be dating in the 3D world if it wasn’t for the pesky 800 mile difference. And then one day we realized that we’re madly in love, and 800 miles doesn’t seem that far any more. Well shit, that’s awesome, but what now?

For a number of reasons, a lack of vacation time being only one of them, Josh is rather stuck where he is. And so, when the timing was just right, I went down to see him. That’s right, I finally got my ass down to North Carolina to test the sweet sweet waters of internet love out there in the real world. The parental units were rather uncertain, what with me going all by my lonesome down to dixie land to meet up with a strange man in a foreign world. The friends, who know Josh as well and know that he’s not some internet stalker, were more cautious along the lines of “Don’t get drunk and run your ass to a drive thru wedding chapel.” But off I went.

How did it go?

I. Am. Smitten.

That’s right folks. As usual, my gut feeling was completely correct, and hauling myself down to the states via a 24 hour bus ride full of fried-chicken-brandishing toddlers, heinous levels of air conditioning and the wonderful border patrol officers just waiting for the chance to snap that rubber glove all led up to the most wonderful moment in my life so far:

First Kiss
First Kiss

There was no first meeting awkwardness, no “Oh…yeah, you’re not the same in real life.” No weirdness of any sort other than the fact that we’re both just kind of weird as it is. The only thing that sucked was the sickening dread of my departure date, and FYI I will be investing in plenty of anti-anxiety meds for the next trip because feeling like you’re going to die while you’re trying to enjoy your last few hours together is not very productive. But as for the trip itself, a better time could not be had. I love Josh, I love his family, I love his friends. I very nearly didn’t get on the bus home. I probably shouldn’t have considering the trip home, but that’s for the next post

 

So stay tuned for the regularly scheduled ranting you’ve come to know and love, particularly in regards to Greyhound and their raging ineffectiveness (go on, ask me how I broke some toes), anyone classified as a LaFawnda, and my incredibly biased anger towards the politics of moving across the border. In the meantime, however, some awesome photos.

Equally Weird
Equally Weird

 Shots in Dixieland
Shots in Dixieland

 

Yes, there we are in the first of many crazy adventures, licking blue icing off a scary one-eyed snaggletoothed pineapple man. Quite possibly the product of the tequila shots you see there, even though that clearly took place on another occasion. There were many tequila shots. Also, there you can see Josh’s brother Nate and his wife Sami. We stayed with them for the week, and they are unbelievably super cool rad. I heart them very much. They wanted me to buy a house there. I nearly did. 

Caught in the Rain

Caught in the Rain

 So we’ve got this thing about wanting to kiss in the rain, so when the downpour hit we were all over it. In that “Let’s not actually get drenched and instead kiss on the front porch about an inch from the rain” kind of way. It was super romantic and awesome.

Ready, Aim...Fail

Ready, Aim...Fail

So I evidently forgot how to kiss, but at least I’m headed in the right direction. At dinner that night, Josh suddenly leaned over, kissed his own shoulder, and very quickly became puzzled. “I’m…not sure why I did that. I think maybe I thought of kissing you and my shoulder was just closer.” Best. Boyfriend. Ever. Also, I’m wearing his shirt. Best. Girlfriend. Ever.
Awwwww yeah

Awwwww yeah

So we made nacho dip one day after a barfingly cute trip to the grocery store where we stocked up on fun time American food (Sami, my oh-so-future-sister-in-law, is a fan of the Mac’n’Velveeta. She’s wonderful, though, don’t judge her by the cheeze.) FYI, please note that we kept the snaggletoothed pineapple for a few days before eating him.
YES PLEASE

YES PLEASE

That nacho dip? OHHHHHHH SO GOOOOOOOD. It was like a meal for the next three days, I even warmed some up for Josh when he came home from work for lunch. Apparently being domestic tastes good.
Le Maison LP

Le Maison LP

Josh’s little brother LP lives in an awesome old farmhouse out in what seems like the middle of nowhere to city slicker me. But it was rad getting there, cause we pretty much got around everywhere on Josh’s scooter. I love it cause it’s like being on a motorcycle, except not big and loud and scary to a girl who can count the number of times she’s been in a car this year on one hand. Sadly, we forgot to get a picture of us on the scooter. I think we forgot to get a picture of LP too, but he may have planned it that way. Either way, here’s us chilling in LP’s room.
Token Emo Shot

Token Emo Shot

Since Josh bought a fancy new digital camera for the occasion of my visit, we very obviously had to take an emo shot or two. I think we do a pretty good job. This was at Josh’s friends Kenny and Rachel (married and awesome, they met over MySpace because America has never heard of Facebook apparently), but they’re in a later picture. For now, cue the My Chemical Romance and a tragic haircut.
I\'m Adorable, I Know

Cute, I know 😀

Our Picnic

Our Picnic

Mah Behbeh

Mah Behbeh

Squeee!

Squeee!

Josh worked his ass off to win a contest at work so he could get an extra day off. We celebrated with a picnic by the lake. I’ll give you a moment to get over the girly squeals…..okay, so guess how else we celebrated? No, besides that. To celebrate my entire trip and our general awesomeness, we also got….matching tattoos!
Super Bad Ass Love Tats

Super Bad Ass Love Tats

So everybody knows that even if you’ve been married for three thousand years you should never get each others names tattooed on you lest you spontaneously divorce in a brief time space continuum shift. So we went with matching tattoos instead. My stars are red, white and blue, a vaguely americana tribute to my awesome time in dixie land. His are green, natch.
Potato, potato, potato

Potato, potato, potato

Josh is very proud of the BBQ heritage of his state, so we obviously took a lunch date to Carolina BBQ, an adorable little restaurant filled with early morning churchgoers and small town news. The food was really good, although it took me a second to realize that everything on my plate was potato based. However, I really like potatos.
Sans Makeup

Sans Makeup

Josh felt the need to document my makeup application process. I don’t know why. But this was just before heading to a very delicious cookout. You may notice we do a lot of stuff surrounding food. That’s because food is awesome, and wherever Josh and I are, deliciousness abounds. You can see the deviled eggs in my eyes. And the “Chick’n” burgers…
Kenny and Rachel

Kenny and Rachel

Cookout Awesomeness

Cookout Awesomeness

There’s Kenny and Rachel 😀 Kenny is awesome. Rachel is also awesome, and also fun sized. Please also notice Angry Johnny Boulder Fists over the BBQ, he was our excellent host for the occasion. He’s actually quite mild mannered and I think was the only one who actually said “What are those?” when I mentioned the Canadian military’s latest secret weapon, the B-Double-A’s (“Bow And Arrow.” Thanks Rick Mercer.)
The cookout was on the day before I left. Since the day I left was somewhat tainted by, you know, being miserable at having to leave and a bit handicapped with anxiety, I think it’s perfect to leave you with a few more glimpses of an awesome day in what now feels like the other half of my life. Enjoy, you lucky people.
 
 
 
            
 


Hey everyone, I’m sorry I’ve been away for so long! I’ve completely screwed up my computer at home, and I’ve been promoted at work! It’s a sweet new job, but it also means less time for blogging at the office. However! I will be back very soon with some FANTASTIC NEWS!!!!!!!!!! JES!!!!!!!

Okay, okay, I won’t keep you waiting any longer. I finally got to go to North Carolina to see my boyfriend face to face and bring love to the 3D world!!!!! It was amazing and I am so retardedly in love. And oh yes there are pictures! Lots of pictures! But that will take time and editing, so hopefully my computer will be back on line ASAP!!!!!

In the meantime, those of you who haven’t stopped by already are encouraged to check out his blog for a sneak peek. Enjoy! I’ll be back soon with more pictures and excellent tales of love, sex, scooters, alcohol, broken toes and my newfound hate for Greyhound and all things LaFawnda.

 

See you soon!



et cetera