Grumpy

18 Jul

A quick list of my frustrations:

Ok I don’t like the office life that has now become me. I worry that it is making me fat. I am starting to dislike the smell of coffee. I hate being like “This heat, huh?” or “TGIF” or “Feels like a Monday”.

I don’t like having to grieve with people because I would rather do it alone. I don’t care for watching the big strong people in my life hurting.

I hate trying to keep my house clean because it is just too big and the crap never ends. Dirt comes in every window and door anytime I look away.

I hate hearing peoples’ everyday problems when I have my own. I’m too much of a sponge.

….I guess I would I would say I am grumpy today. Little bit hormonal and I have a toothache.

I had to go to like 3 different places to get flowers for a funeral I don’t want to go to and why is everyone in the world a butthead?

It’s like….I want to be a good person and do the right thing and stand up but I also just want to punch this life in the face and demand another.

Also it doesn’t help that I can’t breathe now since I broke my nose again so I have to mouth breathe and it’s harder than that sounds so I literally suck in every breath I take. It is gross. I sound like a total creep. And I still don’t have healthcare.

And it is still not raining.

Me to this summer: “How dare you. On just every single level. How the fuck dare you.”

I also think I need an emergency dentist or pliers. But no one I know will pull a tooth out for me so I would have to do it myself. The boyfriend told me I can die if I get blood poisoning and I probably have that. And scurvy. And like arthritis. And like Ebola or something. Rabies.

But at the end of the day the hot guy at work’s brother followed me on Instagram so I guess I’m like basically famous.

Me to this summer: “Bring it.”

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I have the power

3 Jun

I just farted so bad in bed it woke up the dog and the cat. They both looked at me with that apocalyptic face saying “dear lord what is happening?”

Thats my body releasing my emotions, furry friends.

Stronger than I Look

1 Jun

 

Sabs v gizzy p

A post shared by Billy Bellmont (@sawbess_crei) on

Thanks to Billy for catching me in a moment. 🙂

 

Things I love About Summertime

31 May

Pools

BBQs

Cold beer

Fireworks

Isotopes baseball

Breezes through open windows

Being barefoot

Wearing sandals

Rivers

Lakes

Boats

Grilled pineapple

Blooming flowers

Backyards

Scenic hikes

Camping

Alligator rodeos

Warm rain

Popsicles

Longer days

Hammocks

Doin’ the Cockroach

15 May

I woke up this morning to a giant cockroach crawling across me AS I LAY IN BED.

I totally lost my shit. So gross. I leapt up and pulled all the bedding up with me, threw it on the floor and did a stomping dance that made the punk rocker in me proud. Things were knocked off of the bedside table, the remote was thrown across the room- I was like one step away from tossing a TV through a window just for the hell of it, because I already felt like a Pink Floyd video.

After my tantrum I systematically looked through my sheets to make sure the thing was dead.

So I need the Ghostbusters to come and watch me when I’m asleep and an exterminator to basically blow up every cockroach on my block. Why can’t my bats eat cockroaches? Nature is crazy.

It gives me the heebie jeebies just thinking about that thing. I’m just going to go see Modest Mouse and try to forget.

Owl the Pretty Things

25 Apr

I have spent much of this morning cleaning the tiny skeleton of a field mouse. Because there is an owl. And lots of tiny mammal carnage. I’ve been cleaning a skull and mandible of a good sized little mouse, but there are birds and rabbits and lizard bones out there too. Owls are seriously bad ass. They swallow an animal whole, crunch it up with their rock star bellies, and barf out a pellet that is just a reduced ball of bones and fur. Like a compactor.

So there are bones scattered everywhere underneath this grainery tube attached to an old warehouse. We climbed up there to figure out where the nest was (there was one lone owl feather as our clue) and look around at all the cool stuff that he has left scattered around. Including- but not limited to- the mouse skull with a leg bone sticking through it. Which I picked up and carried back to my office.

That’s right. I walked around with owl poop and mouse bits in my hand this morning.

I regret nothing.

 

2 for 2

28 Mar

They come in packs of two.

Spanks, or the knock off brand. Whatever. We all know what I’m talking about. The belly crushing underwear that makes your ass look amazingly artificial and your intestines constrict.

One fun consequence: they will make you poop your pants. Just saying. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow- but soon. And it’s something you may remember for the rest of your life.

Let me paint you a picture. Set the scene if you will. So here I am, just moved back to town, broke, tired, starting school again and working a new job. I go out on this date- a first date. We go to this brewery with awesome southern food and everything is going well. Kinda. Mid fried okra I start to get the rumble. You know. The rumble. And as the rumble sets in the date launches off on this intense story that he’s all into and pantomiming and I’m attempting to discretely back away and try to politely excuse myself to the bathroom.

He won’t just SHUT UP!!

I’m like starting to sweat. I don’t want to be rude, but these tummy tuckers are seriously about to make me shit myself. I back away attempting to excuse myself and he just leans in closer to give his story more intensity.

Then the situation gets real. I tell him I’ll be right back, run to the restroom, drop some mad heat, and wish I didn’t exist. Underwear in the trash, I return, tail between my legs so to speak.

Funny, he actually asked me out on a second date after that. QUESTIONABLE.

What’s worse is I didn’t even learn my lesson. Because they come in packs of twos. And I still had another pair. Months go by and my memory fades and… I wore the fuckers again. And again, it crushed all of my organs into a tiny little ball and again, I pooped my pants. Well, sundress the second time.

Moral of the story?

Don’t wear underwear.

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