Always the audience, never the musician.

Humor, People

Yesterday I took one look at the stove and I just knew.

I knew it needed to be cleaned.

Three minutes into cleaning the stove using something called Easy Off, I realized, I could no longer move my right hand. And by right hand, I mean the one that looks like a foam glove you would wave at a sporting event.

I started flooding it with water while singing Toxic by Britney Spears. I’m addicted to you. Don’t ya know that you’re toxic?


Anyhow, my hand still looks pretty rough and I told every single person in the bar last night why, starting with the words “So today…”

Okay so enough with my nonsense. I better catch you up on this thing I refer to as “My Life.”

1. My roommate Connor is MIA. He left to go see his girlfriend and never came back. This might be a really appropriate time to talk about my dad. Pass. Anyhow, I am going to refrain from posting “Have You Seen My Leaves Beard Hair All Over the Bathroom Roomie” flyers for a few more weeks because I knew how susceptible Connor is to sex slavery. Ooh just thought of another Britney Spears song. Fun.

2. My blonde friend Leah is now staying with us (me) for four days of every week. She bought groceries, cleaned the apartment and cooked me dinner all in one day, confirming what I already knew. She is better at life than me. But I marked housewife off my list and ate that dinner she slaved over that fucking god forsaken, hand swelling, good for nothing stove cooking. Ya know I actually get the whole slavery thing now. Neat.

3. I have been hangin’ out with this pack of musicians. That’s right. I called them a pack. I’m a lone wolf no more. Just runnin’ with a pack of musicians. Because yes. I’m the kind of person that “runs” with others. Anyhow it’s great. Except for when it’s awful.They just look at an object and suddenly it’s an instrument and suddenly it’s a concert and suddenly it’s a really awesome concert because suddenly they’re just really fucking awesome at everything and suddenly I hate them so suddenly I throw myself onto the couch dramatically so that I can pout. It’s all very sudden.

Always the audience, never the musician.

Anyhow I actually am in love with my wolf pack. All three of em. How many wolves do you need to call it a pack? 20, like cigarettes?

Anyhow there’s “C” who plays the drums and is awesome at it. Anytime I put my iphone in and start playing some cool indie band I love, he has to casually announce “Oh I played with them one time back in Vietnam.” Except for he says it without the “back in Vietnam” part. He was misquoted…by me. Did I mention I want to do journalism?

Okay okay, then there is Andy who I have mentioned previously. He’s like my bestie but let’s not make a big thing of it. He plays this thing called a dobro guitar, which you basically lay on your lap because you’re lazy. I like to call it a “Go Bro!”. Anyways, he’s good at that. So that’s annoying.

Last but certainly not least, there’s “N”. They actually named Guitar Hero after him. He is the guitar hero. Literally. I tell everyone he’s the best guitar player in the world, which is really unfair since I have not met every guitar player in the world, and is not at all unfair because I know absolutely nothing about guitar playing.

And also, you know how couples “finish each other’s sentences?” That did not really need to be in quotes did it? “Who fucking knows” N, as I call him, finishes my jokes it’s crazy. I’m halfway through my second knock and he’s all like, “Who’s there?”


N’s there.

Alright so I’m not going to tell you fuckers to leave a comment, because last time everyone did so begrudgingly. But you should get that chip, which is laying on your shoulder by the way, and just put it somewhere else.

Like in a comment box.

Accompanied by a really friendly comment.


Bitch Thinks I Use Flash Cards

Dating, Humor, Lifestyle, People

The closer it gets to tomorrow night, the more nervous I get for my last night bartending….at least for awhile.  One of the other bartenders made me flash cards for all the liquors and I was like…Bitch thinks I use flash cards.  I do.  I have a Bachelor’s Degree in Biology, how the fuck do you think I learned the Cell Cycle.  Sometimes I think I should make flash cards for dating.

Front of Flash Card: 

What do you do when your boyfriend cheats on you?

Back of Flash Card:

Kick that motherfucker to the curb.

Seems like it could be useful right?  But then, there would be that awkward moment when you get halfway through the deck of flash cards and arrive at this gem…

Front of Flash Card:

What do I do if he lies one time?  Should I give him another chance or end it immediately?

Back of Flash Card:


If you don’t know the answer, your flash cards probably don’t either.  

The fire whisperer came over to our apartment last night and no he did not bring blondie with him.  Had he done so, I probably would have scrubbed the counters so hard it took the paint off.  Instead, he had to repeatedly hug me and confuse my feelings even further.  Before he left, he hugged me while I was laying down in my bed.  After releasing his arms from the embrace, he just left his face pressed against mine for what felt like an eternity.  It was approximately fifteen seconds, but still way longer than the average friend embrace.  What the fuck was that?  A part of me felt like this embrace was his way of saying sorry like…Hey I’m really sorry I don’t feel the same about you but I’m gonna go ahead and leave my face laying on yours… without asking…for a while.  I’ll admit, it may have made it worse if he had asked.  It was way more intimate then kissing and I was not looking for an apology.  If you got some weird sensation last night around 12:20 a.m. that made you feel like your skin was boiling, it was probably because you could feel my little face turning red all the way from wherever you were at.

Then he was all like, “See you tomorrow night.” and I was all like “Not if I see you first.” but really…not if I see you first.  If I do, I’m going to run and hide…but fuck, then you will probably find me and leave your arm resting on mine for some obscenely long period of time and make it even more awkward that it already is…no wait, not possible.  

So yeah, I’m going to this concert at a bar tonight where I will likely have run-ins with both my ex-boyfriend, the fire whisperer, and my never boyfriend.  Soooo….there’s that.  But fuck it, I’m going to put on mascara and bat my eyelashes at every uncomfortable moment that arrives…which will likely be so often that people will think I have a permanent eye twitch.  Crop top here I come.

Luckily after running every day this week, I looked more thin and tan than I had in awhile.  Oh god, I just had a thought.  What if blondie is there tonight?  Someone help me find that flash card quick!  What if she is like…all up in his grill?  I might have to kill her.  As you all as my witness, if you see on the news that a thin blonde girl with a strange name has been murdered in the midwest region, it was not me.  It was.  Just kidding, I would never do that.  But maybe I would.  Do you see how crazy this makes me?  A few shots of whiskey at the beginning of the night oughta loosen me up real quick and prevent me from even looking for that blondorexic love thief.  I hope.  

Right now my skeeze of the day is on permanent hold by the fire whisperer for doing complex things like twenty seconds of uninterrupted facial contact.  But, I have a feeling that reign is going to end after a whiskey night at the bar tonight and my last bartending shift tomorrow.  Skeezes coming your way in the very near future!





Warning: This post…along with all my other posts now that I think about it…is not appropriate for all audiences.  If you are offended by racial, religious, or sexual jokes (the only kind of jokes); then this blog is not for you.

Cunt, slut, whore, bitch.  Only the first four words that come to mind when you think of her…and by her, I mean the family favorite.  Sometimes she’s your niece, sister, cousin, aunt, or in-law, but most importantly, she is never EVER you.  You get a master’s degree and she gets a doctorate.  You wear a c-cup and she’s rockin DD’s.  You win ten awards and she gets best overall.  She’s one-three times upping you in everything you do.  Shadow meet life. She’s often blonde and has a tendency to seek out weaknesses.  Out this July and coming to a theater near you…she is…the family favorite.

Although both facing the inner battle with our archnemesis, the family favorite, Samantha (the introducer of the word skeeze) and I still managed to have a great weekend.  This includes the following:

Kansas City Royals baseball game– I had no idea that all the players would be foreign, and by foreign I mean hispanic.  They trick you with first names like Josh, James, and Tyler…so you’re like yeah, these are my people.  Then BAM, Perez has two outs, Gonzales is chillin on third base, and who knows what the fuck ole Salvador’s up to.  Regardless it was fun…Olé, touché motherfuckers!  I also have recently wondered if they play the song Royals by Lorde at their games…seems appropriate.

Nelson Atkins museum– FYI, Jesus Christ not only died once for your sins, but instead gets nailed to the cross in every single fucking room of this museum.  I fail to understand the artistic fascination with a long-haired man nailed in t-formation, unless said long-haired man is rockin a 6-pack and killer biceps.

Modest Mouse concert– This is the kind of place where each tall man is assigned to one short girl, being forced (by means of waterboarding) to stand directly in front of them the entire concert.  Always a pleasure fellow concert viewers.


One of things I realized on my trip, was my friends’ unnatural and mildly disturbing infatuation with the concept of rape.  Everything we talked about somehow led us back to one topic….rape.  We eventually created a rape spectrum, where we could judge things based on where they fell on the spectrum.  Like…oh he touched you there…that’s definitely gonna fall somewhere in the middle of the rape spectrum.  For future posts, I plan to utilize this spectrum.  It did, however, lead us to coining a particular phrase, one which I think you will like.

“It ain’t easy being skeezy.” – said by my roommate Connor (my previous skeeze of the day)

This brings me to my favorite part of the post…My skeeze of the day goes to the guy sitting behind me at the Royals game.  He went on and on about how ugly high-waisted shorts were.  I’m wearing high-waisted shorts you stupid motherfucker!  Take two steps back…then take two steps forward…pat your head…now admit you’re wrong motherfucker!!!! For the record, my high-waisted shorts looked stellar.  I will be posting a clip later today from my favorite Modest Mouse song played at the concert, “Dramamine”.