Hey Carpet Stain, Remember That Time When You Almost Ruined My Relationship? Screw you.

Dear Carpet Stain,

Hey, do you happen to remember me at all? We met last night after I made a giant, delicious Spaghetti meal for my boyfriend and I after fantasizing all day about how delicious you will taste only to have said delicious dinner on my plate but right before I could sit down it slid all onto the floor and birthed you?

You do remember that? How you were born out of my misery and all I could do was stand there in shock and the first thing out of The Pilots' mouth was "I'm not cleaning that up!" and then he decided he was going to eat his own heaping dinner while I had to clean up your disgusting face and then all of a sudden once I was done you left this giant stain on the carpet that we couldn't get out because we have no carpet cleaner at this moment and only once I was done and The Pilot was done eating his own whole plate he offered me his what was left of the stuff he didn't want to eat so I could have dinner.

And how after two days of being in a vehicle and sleeping in shitty motel beds seeing you on the floor all stainy and disgusting and being offered scraps after the fact I burst into tears and had a mental breakdown on the floor scrubbing you as if I were Cinderella and I was just told that I was a whore and couldn't go to the ball because my Fairy Godmother was a skank and was more interested in dick then making me a beautiful dress.

Or how The Pilot just stood there shocked for a bit because this has only been the second time he has seen me cry and the first time was over a terrible health scare with a family member but here I was crying over spilt Spaghetti because you, Carpet Stain, are a giant dick that I can't get out until we buy carpet cleaner (which, might I add, we forgot when we just went freakin' grocery shopping a half hour ago so you get to sit there and be smug and taunt me for another day).

But then I suddenly remembered, Carpet Stain, that while we were gone I had left the DVR on and that it had recorded all of those deliciously terrible TLC shows and tonight -- Tonight Dear Carpet Stain -- just happened to be the premiere of My Big Fat Gyspy Wedding and it was basically about sluts with morals and giant dresses so I had nothing to be sad about and I suddenly did an about face from crying to happy because suddenly the world seemed so much better because I could watch crappy television and this change happened so fast that The Pilot was left baffled and in his confusion he decided that he was going to go to Subway and pick me up a sandwich.

So, really, all I wanted to say is "fuck you" because you are a dick and I hate you,

Tristachio

Sunday Photography: A Preveiw Of My Vacation

Surprise! We Didn't Kill Each Other On Our Trip...Almost!

So I managed to survive and get back from the vacation I had at my parents cabin and surprisingly neither of us killed each other and The Pilot and I didn't end up dying in a fiery car accident while his butt expelled the most disgusting smell in the world. Literally, his fart nearly killed me and I almost hit another vehicle in another lane because I thought, momentarily, that I could drive away from the smell of his asshole but SURPRISE! It was trapped in the car with me.

Once my head clears from that smell I'll do a better update of what went down and how I'm somewhat happy to be home but mostly just missing my family.

A Vacation That I Hope Doesn't End Up With Someone Crapping All Over A Hotel Bathroom

All this week I am going to be preparing myself to hop into a vehicle for a two-day adventure towards my parents cabin where I am sure amazingly stupid things are going to happen. The last time we made this two day trip the dog ended up Dorito dog farting all over the place and when we stopped at our hotel for the night he spastically crapped all over the bathroom and the smell was so foul and disgusting we nearly threw up as we used all the towels in the bathroom room to clean it up and then threw them into the bathtub in a crappy attempt to hide the evidence. Despite locking the door we had to smell that smell all night long and it nearly destroyed our relationship and killed all the babies in the world by giving them cancer and in the morning we checked out as fast as humanly possible and now I’m probably sure that we aren’t allowed in a Best Western ever again because the maid that found that murder scene in the bathroom? She will most likely stab us if she ever finds us.

So this blog week is going to be pretty slow because The Pilot is working until super late all week and that leaves me to pack up all our crap and try not to forget anything and attempt to conquer my secret drinking habit because when he comes home at night and finds out that I did nothing? I’m pretty sure that’s grounds for him to break up with me and if he broke up with me I’d have to throw the dog off the cliff to show him that he never should have dumped me and we both know the dog would have picked to go with him and my fragile ego just couldn’t handle that after being dumped for not packing for a road trip.

All next week I do have on guest blog lined up because 99.9% of my readers are giant douchebags and only one person got back to me with an actual post and that person is someone everyone should have sex with because it’s just that good. The guest post. Not the sex. I’ve never had sex with her so I wouldn’t know. But I’m sure it would be good. She just looks like she is good at it.

Perhaps during the whole next week I am gone, I might just update my blog with what is going on because that Womb Mate of mine? Yeah, she’s going to be there. That means I am going to have a massive amount of stuff to blog about once the trip is over. But the thing about updating a blog while on vacation, it only works if you have access to the Internet. And my parents? Yeah, ever since they retired to live in a cabin on the lake they’ve decided they are going to live like homeless people and have no real access to the rest of the world. I’m not sure how I’m going to manage to do that without stabbing someone in the eye for some type of updated current events or just for my own amusement because there is only so many times a girl can play monopoly without killing someone. Sorry Grandma, you’re the oldest so you are probably going to be the one stabbed.

I also plan on making a lot of videos so you can look forward to that as well. If you don’t want to look forward to it…well I don’t look forward to giving you that intervention you so desperately need for your coke habit you ungrateful turdmouth. Yeah, that’s right. No Intervention for you. Whore.

P.S:  I didn’t really mean to call you a whore but you sort of kinda are. And that intervention? Yeah, it’s just going to be a giant party you aren’t invited too. Whore.

P.P.S: And that intervention that is just a giant party that you aren't invited to? Yeah, it's going to have George Michael performing all of his music and eventually he will end up knee deep in a pile of coke while simultaneously floating in a river of beer while fighting of a giant owl dressed in a red sequin wrestling outfit while Careless Whisper blasted on the sound system and lightening gold struck all the party goers. The night will end in tears and the next day will begin with the intervention we throw George Michael and once again just ignore you and not invite you to the giant party it will turn into.

And Then The Pilot Decided That Grover Was Going To Eat Crap

One of the many things The Pilot and I happen to share is an interest in photography and making films so it was only natural when we decided that we were going to create a claymation animation over the weekend because we are grown adults who can do whatever we want and who cares if the kitchen sink was full of dishes from that whole week we didn't want to bother to clean yet? We do what we want.

So we ran out to Walmart and bought a shitwack of play dough and clay and rushed home giggling like children and full of excitement over what we were going to do.

"We should do something about Bowie!" The Pilot declared and I quickly got to work creating a little clay Bowie that looked hideously deformed but somehow managed to capture the asshole-ish spirit my dog embodies.

"And there is going to be a fire hydrant!" Exclaimed The Pilot as he quickly got to work on the fire hydrant.

"And Grover!" He announced after he had done the fire hydrant and I was forced to do a double take because did he honestly just say he was going to put Grover into our movie? And yes, yes he did say that and then what happened to our storyline quickly degraded into a short animation of Grover eating crap.

Yup, that's right. Our first production is Grover eating dog crap. I'm not sure if I should be disgruntled or insanely proud of ourselves.

Wizarding Whores

Me:  Do you know how silly putty was first made?

Co-Worker:  how how?

Me:  It was the residue that was left over after latex condoms are made.

Co-Worker: I love putty!

Me:  That makes you a whore.

Co-Worker:  you are a wizard whore.

Me:  Correction, My wizard grandmother is a wizard whore. I don't follow in dem dar shoes.

Co-Worker:  whether you choose to like it or not, you are a decendent of a whore so that makes you a whore.

Me:  Yeah, and you were born from a whore sandwich that a whore whorishly gagged up.

Co-Worker:  hahhahaahhahahahahahahahaha....

Me:  So thar.

An Evening With....Simply Katie

You know who is pretty funny, quirky and maybe a small dash of insane? Simply Katie, that's who!

Hey, Internet! Screw You & My Wagon Master Skills

With as much fanfare as it could have my Internet decided that it was going to get back with it’s whorish boyfriend and abandon me to wonder why it would take off again with such a whore that doesn’t care for its feelings nearly as much as I do or who loves it for who it is and desperately wants it back because sometimes it’s hard just to be able to watch television or have normal, relationship building conversation with your boyfriend because Facebook and YouTube is just a bit more cool and entertaining.

Not having the Internet working properly is a torture that only the Amish should feel. Or Pioneers who travelled across the country in a wagon and routinely died of pooping too much, or rattle snakes, or wandering off into the woods and dying, or since they get sick all the time and waste precious medicine they were denied medicine and then died and the survivors, after seeing no hope of ever reaching their destination and salvation, decided it’d only be kind enough to drastically eat each other to get away from the cruel wagon master that I happen to be.

It’s almost like my Internet is telling me to go outside and it makes me all “Go fuck yourself Internet. I go outside all the dang time and you know what happens when I go out? I. Have. To. Take. The. Dog! And every time I take him outside he decides to do something super assholish. Remember, Internet, when he decided he was going to smear his own crap on the wall outside the vets because he didn’t want to poop like a normal dog on the ground but that he was going to press his butt against the brick until it made a mess? Or how about the time he got jealous I was petting two other dogs and the only way he could show the dogs that I belonged to him was to pee on the ground and then kick that dirt all over my legs only to show those dogs what’s-what?”

So you know what I’ve got to say to you Internet who is forcing me to spend more time with my boyfriend and asshole of a dog?

Fuck you, I hope you get Super Crabs from your whorish boyfriend who will only dump you like stinky tuna underwear once he gets bored of you.

I Have The Intranet Again! So Here Is A Video Of My Sister Dancing.

All this week my internet has been super gay and instead of, you know, working how it should it probably decided to take a vacation and go get drunk in a gay bar and ended up going home with a stupidly goodlooking guy and they ended up having sex all week and only when they had a fight and broke up did the internet come back to me sobbing and wondering why no one will ever love it but me.

Or...techinical difficulties. Whichever one is more cool. And flamboyant.

To celebrate and for the fact I have done just about nothing all week and have some things to edit and get done for next week here is a video I made last Thanksgiving of my Womb-mate dancing around and being an idiot. You know, before she was pregnant and was able to drink and dance around like an idiot.

And Then They All Had Sex After The Meeting.

The one thing I hate about my profession is the fact that I’ve got to attend meetings that seem like they are never ending and I’m forced to not nap and suddenly take some type of passing interesting because, guess what? I’ve got to take notes and make sure other people know what the hell is going on when I barely know what is going on!

I’m not sure if it’s from the case of ADHD I suddenly develop when it comes to sitting in a meeting or the fact that I’m 99.99% sure that every morning I might snort a buckets’ worth of cocaine and while it infuses me with a thousand pounds of energy I just damage the part of my brain that forgets that I snorted a shitwick of cocaine that I can’t sit still in these meetings. If I sit still I get tired and want to fall asleep. So I shift around a lot. And try to entertain myself.

Unfortunately there isn’t a lot to do to entertain myself in meeting and my mind begins to wander and sometimes I’m afraid of where my mind takes me when I’m bored but other times it’s cool but mostly just awkward like it was today.

 While in my meeting I came to the sudden realization that the other people in the meeting room had, at one point in their lives (or if they didn’t I’m pretty sure that means they fail at life because they are all five times older than I am), had sex with someone before and that technically means at one point in time all their faces were scrunched and gross during sex. Like, at one point they squirted things and their face went “ugggnrrrgguuughhhgurggh” and made a mess.

And then I realized I was thinking of old people having sex and totally almost vomited in my mouth and could not bring myself to look any of them in the eye because it was awkward but except the really old dude who I wanted to high-five because if he was still having sex I’m pretty sure that would make it some type of miracle that he had enough juice to squirt.

I also hate realizing that by thinking of the other people and their sperm faces I totally forgot to  write down any type of useful notes that wouldn’t help anyone accomplish anything.

I’m still confused as to why they continue to pay me every week.

Oh That Bounce In Her Hair? Yeah, That's From Farts.

Ever wonder what you could do to fix your flat, dull hair and make it something beautiful and luxurious enough that everyone will be so envious of your bouncy locks that eventually they will stalk you to your place of work, living or pooping and stab you to death while they frantically try and get you to divulge your beauty secrets?

Yeah, I know you do, and the only way to get those locks is from a Brazilian. A Brazilian Blow-out.

I'm just saying that before you click that link to find out this beauty secret I'm pretty sure my Womb Mate might swear by but I wont ever know until she divulges her secret while I frantically stab her too death, I suggest you probably don't ever look at that thing when anyone is in the room and anyone who might not like anything gross at all ever. In fact, you probably shouldn't look at it yourself but since you don't have a shank to stab someone to get their beauty secrets...you are probably going to have to look at it.